74 THE NIDOLOGIST 
laid; in other words, two days intervening be- 
tween deposition. 
On the morning of April 27, 1895, I was 
agreeably surprised to hear the notes of a pair 
of these Hawks in their old haunts, not more 
than five hundred yards back of my home. I 
found them perched about an old Crow’s nest, 
forty-five feet up in a chestnut tree, which 
stood close to a much frequented cart road. 
They were evidently having an animated con- 
sultation regarding the merits of the place; at 
any rate, they protested vigorously when a 
party of four came within easy gunshot. 
A pair of Cooper's Hawks had remodeled 
this nest the previous year, but owing to 
the publicity of the place and constant danger 
of disturbance, they deserted it before any 
eggs had been deposited. Probably the same 
conditions influenced this pair to reject this 
site, for they did not tarry long. Feeling posi- 
tive that they had nested in the immediate 
vicinity, I made ineffectual searches for them 
until May 19, when I observed one of the birds 
perched on a tree in close proximity to a rather 
favorable looking nest, but subsequently I 
found it unoccupied. 
Later visits to all the old nests in the neitgh- 
borhood resulted in my complete failure to 
locate the occupied nest. The trees were in 
full leaf; my perfect familiarity with this por- 
tion of the long ridge of chestnut timber, and 
my knowledge of the location and history of 
every large nest, alone enabled me to inspect 
them all in turn. On occasions I had heard 
the well-known whistling notes, and so on 
the afternoon of the 5th of June, as a sort 
of forlorn hope, I sallied out for one more 
effort before giving it up entirely. My steps 
wandered toward a likely looking nest not 
one hundred feet from where I had secured a 
set of three eggs in 1888, and but four times 
that distance from the tree which I had climbed 
to find a set of two eggs in 189t. Now I had 
pounded the base of this tree on two occasions 
previously (May 23 and 29), and yet looked 
upon it with suspicion. Again I rapped and 
rapped, hard and continuously, without re- 
sponse. Pondering upon the uncertainty of 
everything, and the nesting habits of this little 
ample-winged Hawk in particular, I continued 
to pound, and felt gratified, not surprised (for 
anticipation seldom fails of being much greater 
than realization in the life of an Odlogist), 
when the little Hawk silently and leisurely 
sailed off with a few sluggish flaps of her wings, 
disappearing in the leafy tree tops. 
I returned toward evening with climbers 
and field glass. When yet some distance off I 
could see her standing upright, preening her- 
self, but as I advanced she settled in the nest 
until only ‘her head appeared above the rim as 
she watched me attentively. She must have 
left while I was strapping on my climbers, but 
so quietly that I did not know she had gone 
until I reached the nest. From first to last no 
sound was uttered by the birds, nor where they 
afterward located in the neighboring tree tops. 
Two undersized plainly marked eggs were my 
reward for an easy climb of forty-seven feet. 
They measure 1.74x1.42, 1.76x1.45. I think 
they can justly claim the title of “runts ” of 
their kind, if that peculiar term be not confined 
to infertile eggs alone. 
With my experience with this, my last clutch, 
I do not find it hard to account for the ap- 
parent rarity of the species, and why so few 
of our local OGlogists have found their nests; 
yet with plenty of time and persistence an in- 
teresting series of sets might be taken within a 
radius of ten miles of this place. I have 
always felt a reluctance toward harrying this 
species on account of their perfect harm- 
lessness and quiet unobtrusiveness; my three 
sets having been taken from the nearest woods 
and collecting ground, much frequented by 
me in odd moments, where the fascination of 
searching for and the temptation to collect a 
rare nest could hardly be resisted. 
Berwyn, Pa., December, 1895. 
>> 
Amphibious Experiences. 
BY P. M. SILLOWAY. 
NE does not always find as interesting an oc- 
cupant of anest asa King Rail, and in peer- 
ing among the flags one frequently under- 
goes an experience altogether unpleasant. I had 
been anticipating the finding of a nest of the Mal- 
lard or other species of Duck (I am still antici- 
pating this coveted experience), and as I slopped 
among the scattered tufts of flags I once caught a 
glimpse of a brown body occupying a structure 
partly hidden by intervening stems. I stepped 
high to avoid splashing the water and stealthily 
drew near the nest, congratulating myself that 
at last | had found the dream of my Odlogical 
life. When I had stepped around the last in- 
tervening tuft and was within eight feet of the 
nest, to my horror I saw a large (not too large) 
snake coiled upon the pile, awaiting my ar- 
rival with glittering eye and vibrating tongue. 
The sight of a snake near at hand always un- 
nerves me, if I ever had any nerve, and though 
I had my egg basket on my right arm and a 
good stout staff in my left hand, it is no ex- 
aggeration for me to say that I leaped clear out 
of the water as I retreated, while to my further 
demoralization the reptile glided down on the 
side near me and straitened his form out in the 
