172 



THB OOLOGIST 



Bird Notes from Virginia. 



Sunday, February 15th, found me 

 out in the woods looking at the eagle 

 (Haliaetus clenocephalus) tree men- 

 tioned in the February issue of the 

 Oologist, page 29. I thought the pair 

 might try to fool me by laying early, 

 especially as I had fooled them last 

 season. A light snow had fallen on 

 the 13th but had melted, leaving water 

 standing in every low spot in the 

 woods, and I had some difficulty in 

 keeping my feet dry while working 

 deeper into the timber. As I came 

 within twenty feet of the huge line 

 pine towering above the surrounding 

 timber, I was disgusted to find two 

 things evident at a glance, first, that 

 the nest was deserted — second, water 

 blocked my headway. As I glanced 

 around to find a small hummoch to 

 jump to, my eye was attracted to 

 some dark spots appearing on the 

 water, over what had been a slight 

 elevation or hummoch. The more I 

 looked the less I believed my eyes, 

 for there, not six feet away was a 

 set of four Woodrocks (Philohela 

 minor) surrounded by water and al- 

 most completely covered. The melt- 

 ing snow had caused the water to 

 rise so high that the bird had evident- 

 ly deserted them the day before, as 

 she was not around and they were icy 

 cold. Did I get my feet wet? Well, 

 I guess! And so happened my earl- 

 iest record of Woodcock eggs for "Vir- 

 ginia. February 9, 10, 11 and 12. 



On February 19th we found a heavy 

 snow with us again, and no prospects 

 of eagles on the 22d, which is my 

 regular day for fresh eggs in this sec- 

 tion. Sunday, the first of March found 

 a rainy, dreary day, so as I am neither 

 a millionaire or draw a salary for 

 collecting eagle eggs for some Mu- 

 seum, I passed it up. Fortune fa- 

 vored me again with a fine day on 

 the 8th and taking a friend with me, 

 we caught the 6:30 A. M. train for a 



good trip. Twenty miles ride by 

 train and eight miles by spring wagon 

 brought us to the fiirst tree — a giant, 

 four and a half feet across the stump 

 — seventy feet to the nest. Every 

 evidence of eggs below the tree, and 

 a heavy blow on the trunk with a 

 light wood knot sent the female 

 screaming from the nest. How the 

 country boys' eyes popped and with 

 mouths opened and bated breath, they 

 watched to see the two eagles which 

 were now around tear the climber 

 limb from torso. But as usual the 

 birds disappeared in the blue sky and 

 the boys, who always gather around 

 when they hear the eagles are to be 

 robbed, turned homeward, sadder but 

 wiser in eagle lore. 



What! Young, at this time of year, 

 yes, five and six days old, and well 

 supplied with two freshly killed and 

 plucked Pie-billed Grebes (Podilym- 

 bus podiceps). Eggs laid last week 

 in January, another early record. 



Was there a load stone? No, I 

 never found one, and poor Billy Cris- 

 pin told me he never found one either, 

 the nearest approaching being an oys- 

 ter shell with a hole in it. We leave 

 the Grebes on the ground, pack the 

 young in cotton and are off again to 

 the beach, five miles away where a 

 launch is to take us across to a point 

 where a friend had told me "were 

 three eagle nests." Five miles across 

 the water, a wade ashore in leaky 

 boots and nothing in sight but a flock 

 of Canada geese on the other side of 

 the point. Back over the same water 

 and road, and ten miles in the oppo- 

 site direction to look at a tree from 

 which Billie Crispin took a set of 

 two last season. Away the old bird 

 flew as we came in sight of the tree 

 — sure signs — and as the under side 

 of the nest is reached, sixty feet up, 

 out pops a big grey squirrel, who's 

 home is neatly tucked away in the 

 heavy frame work. Two eggs is the 



