THE OOLOGIST. 



217 



Past Reminiscences. 

 The first impression made upon ones 

 memory by ornithological discoveries 

 are very apt to prove most lasting. 

 Time will not erase these impress- 

 ions that have been so vividly made 

 and it is but an easy task to recall every 

 connected detail. Thus as I cast my eyes 

 over the pages of my note-book, I can 

 easily recall the circumstances inscribed 

 therein. 



It seems as but yesterday, when I 

 was strolling along the bank of that 

 little creek, I saw my first Scissor-tailed 

 Flycatcher. It was sitting on a small 

 willow bush, pluming its bright, beau- 

 tiful feathers, and I watched it until it 

 took wing and flew away. Its beauty 

 was enhanced as I realized its rarety at 

 this latitude. 



That first Crow's nest is still fresh in 

 my memory too. How my old friend, 

 Frank, and I saw the nest in an oak on a 

 distant hill. Ho w eagerly he climbed the 

 tall tree and after looking into the- nest, 

 called out in an excited tone, "Oh Billy, 

 two eggs." Then I too had to climb 

 that tree and see those eggs in the nest. 

 With what pleasure it gave me to 

 pack those then precious eggs I shall 

 never forget. 



In a small tray in my cabinet, repos- 

 ing on the softest of cotton, is a set of 

 eggs of the Prairie Warbler marred by 

 the addition of one of the Cowbird. 

 Who would have thought that such a 

 dainty nest and eggs would have heen 

 found in a dusty field. Having occasion 

 to cross this field, I passed through a 

 few hazel bushes, and there in one 

 small bush I espied the nest. How very 

 dainty the warbler's eggs looked beside 

 that of the Cowbird. What cared I if 

 it was nearly dark and I ten miles from 

 home? 



Then there are those four delicate 

 white eggs finely speckled. What are 

 they? Why they are those of the Bell's 

 Vireo, found one hot afternoon in an 

 exceedingly large pasture covered with 



hazel brush. Were they easily found? 



I should say not, for it seems as 

 though I crawled over the whole pas- 

 ture on my hands and knees hunting 

 for the nest but without success, and 

 then as I was starting for home I fell 

 headlong over a stump, right in front 

 of it. Odd, wasn't it? 



In the next tray to this set are the 

 eggs of a near relative, the Yellow- 

 throated Vireo, found under peculiar 

 circumstances. A find that I will not 

 soon forget was that of a Blue-gray 

 Gnatcatcher. True, it was not found 

 by myself but I was there when it was 

 taken. A nest so delicate and beauti- 

 ful in construction cannot help but ex- 

 cite the enthusiasm of a collector. 



My acquaintance with the Loon was 

 made at its home in the north. I was 

 staying for a few days at a beautiful 

 northern lake, one summer not long 

 ago, and one cloudy night my curiosity 

 Was aroused by a weird cry coming 

 from the lake. I could not place it as I 

 had never heard the like before, but I 

 was soon informed. Asking a native 

 about it I received a reply, "them's 

 Loons". 



Does not every one remember his first 

 duck hunt? I can very well, and can 

 imagine that I am there at this very 

 moment right in the midst of the Blue- 

 bills, Coots and hosts of others. What 

 a delightful experience it is to be out 

 on a lake in the early morn among the 

 water fowl, before old Sol shows his 

 face. 



Early attempts at taxidermy are not 

 soon to be forgotton, and mine are aL 

 ways flashed to my mind whenever I 

 see a Blue Jay. The Jay was the vic- 

 tim when I started out for a subject to 

 commence on, but when I had finished, 

 he looked no more like a Jay. 



Methinks I taste frogs legs when I 

 look at those Red-wing's eggs, and can 

 see and hear the sun-fish jumping in 

 yon small lake. In future years, what 

 comfort we shall take in reviewing our 



