THE NIDOLOGIST 35 
the boy to help me, but for a time any 
resemblance to a nest escaped us. At length 
I descended the bank, and slowly climbing 
it as we had at first, I finally located it ona 
level with my eyes, about half way up the 
bank, placed snugly under the base and 
roots ofa sprout which grew out almost 
horizontally, thus effectually hiding it from 
above, and while the ground beneath it pro- 
tected it from below. Secreted as securely 
as it appeared to be, however, it contained 
four eggs of the Cowbird, in two separate 
pairs in appearance, as though two had 
been deposited by one female and two by 
another, and two eggs of the owner, all ad- 
vanced in incubation. ‘The Cowbird surely 
knows more about the habits of the Tow- 
hee and other species upon which it imposes 
its products than we Ornithologists can ever 
know, for except by the accidental startling 
of the female the keenest eye would never 
have located that nest in its well protected 
site. But I know that the editor of the 
Nipoiocist doesn’t like much, articles 
about such common things as Chipping 
Sparrows, Flickers and Towhees, so I shall 
leave the remainder of this wonderful and 
veracious story of my outing with the boys 
for a later issue. 
Roodhouse, III. 
+> + 
Habits of Audubon’s Caracara. 
BY J. K. STRECKER, JR. 
URING the past year it was the writer's 
pleasure to add much to his previous 
knowledge of the nidification and 
food habits of that interesting bird, Audu- 
bon’s Caracara Eagle (Polyborus cheriway), 
and in the present paper are incorporated 
his notes and observations. As mentioned 
in a former article in THE NIDOLOGIST 
(Vol. II, pp. 6), the Caracara is apparently 
a permanent resident with us, and judging 
from the number observed late in the fall 
of ‘94, 1am inclined to believe is rather 
more common during the autumn and 
winter, than insummer. It is possible, 
however, that Iam laboring under an error, 
as the birds may only be scattered out in 
their various breeding grounds during the 
spring and summer, and may haunt only 
certain localities at other seasons. 
About ten miles to the west of the city of 
Waco, away o’er the rolling prairie and 
mesquite flats, one comes to a rather small, 
winding stream, bordered by a long, nar- 
row and dense strip of woodland. Elm, 
ash and dogwood trees are the principal 
timber here, and these were hardly dis- 
tinguishable at any distance, from the mass- 
es of thick vines (wild-grape, rattan, poison 
ivy, etc.), that cover and entwine their 
branches in thick, matted masses. 
The undergrowth in some places is very 
dense, being composed of low, thick bushes, 
intermingled with myriads of obnoxious 
vines. Here are the favorite haunts and 
breeding grounds of Polyborus, as well as 
the Vultures, the Chuck-wills’-widow (Az- 
tostomus carolinensis) and many other spe- 
cies of birds. 
The 21st of April last, found the writer, 
in company with his friend J. W. Mann, 
Jr., driving briskly over the prairie in a 
buggy, heading in the direction of this strip 
of woods. ‘The first two miles of our jour- 
ney lay through a series of level mesquite 
flats. The day was rather cool for the 
season of the year, and all nature seemed 
astir. From the tops of fence-posts and 
small trees, the inimitable Mockingbird 
poured forth its grand medley of vocal music, 
while from among the mesquite rang the 
voices of Bell’s Vireo, the Dickcissel, the 
Lark Sparrow and other birds of the prairie. 
Now and then we flushed small skulking 
birds, among them the Yellow-winged and 
Cassin’s Sparrows, and at every turn of the 
road encountered troops of beautiful Fly- 
catchers (Mzlvulus forficatus) engaged in 
noisy courtship. 
Kingbirds flew over the road, busily 
engaged in catching insects, and the air was 
full of the combined music of birds and 
insects. From over the fields, the soft 
“quaily’’ of the Plover (Sartramia longi- 
cauda) and the soft cooing of mating Doves, 
broke on our ears, filling us with that 
indescribable emotion, known only to those 
who ‘‘convene with Nature.”’ 
As the father of my companion owned a 
very large farm in the vicinity, he was 
familiar with the country through which we 
were driving and quite frequently called my 
attention to solitary trees, a number of 
which, (so he informed me), had until 
recently contained nests of the Caracara, 
many of them having been in use for years. 
These were principally elm trees, but one 
large cottonwood, which stood on the bank 
of a small stream, contained the remnants 
of a nest that had been in use until the 
season of ’94 for six successive years. 
The first nest we intended visiting was 
