Nov., 1907 



THE PRAIRIE FALCONS OF SADDLE-BACK BUTTE 



181 



An illustrated Bulletin of the wide-awake Nebraska Ornithological Union, 

 issued a few years ago, aroused in me a sharp renewal of deep-slumbering interest 

 in the Prairie Falcon. For a half-tone which accompanied the account gave the ex- 

 act spot where Mr. Carriker (now in South America) saw two callow young and a 

 tantalizing egg lying on a ledge twelve feet below the summit of the nesting butte. 

 And it was graphically told how the daring youngster was only restrained from 

 attempting that dangerous vertical climb-down, without any rope, over the wetted 

 rocks, by the caution of two staid professors of the University! 



The half-tone looked strangely familiar, tho the butte had been pictured from 

 an aspect I had not seen. Suddenly it dawned upon me that the Saddle-back 

 Butte was none other than one of a most venerable series which crowned the hill- 

 tops of a certain picturesque uplift above the prairie, in Sioux County, Nebraska. 

 These I had seen and admired as I entered the country, Wyoming- ward. I was 

 but seventy miles away. I would see the Saddle-back again! 



SADDLE-BACK BUTTE, THE NESTING SITE OF THE PRAIRIE FALCON 



With ample ropeage I went, in latter- May. As I climbed the slow grade that 

 rose to the foot of the butte I kept both eyes astrain for the sight of the kingly 

 birds not seen before for twenty years. But only as I touched the steep incline 

 and laboriously began the upward climb that led to the foot of Saddle-back Butte 

 did the male come out at me. 



With what incarnation of mingled grace and solicitude did he sweep down the 

 cliffs toward me, uttering the while, a mellow, quavering cry— Wert-wert-wert- 

 wert-wert-wert — which rang out vibrantly on the morning air. Poising, afar, he 

 began to sweep half -timid, half -cautious curves in my direction. It seemed as 

 if he were worrying about that sitting mate of his; yet felt a little too cautious to 

 show it. I toiled to the south side of the butte, and made the winding ascent to 

 the top, amusing myself by reading the "fools' names" that were carved at nearly 

 every step. Over the narrow, sloping crest I crept with hair on end, and stood on 



