60 HOMING WITH THE BIRDS 



ception of a few minutes when eating a luncli at 

 noon. 



I liave worked under bridges, in the unspeakable 

 odours of vulture locations, near slaughter houses 

 and crematories, in territory that was one shallow 

 lake covering miles of surface in a June freshet; and 

 once I worked under the rafters of an ice-house, 

 where I had a fight to save my assistant from suffo- 

 cation. He slipped from the top of the packed ice, 

 on which we were setting up a camera, and fell 

 eight feet below, between the side wall and the ice, 

 the sawdust so covering and strangling him that 

 he was almost helpless, while he could not gain a 

 foothold either against the side of the building or 

 the wall of ice. I finally got him out, while he was 

 still able to help himself slightly, by taking a rail 

 from a near-by fence, carrying it up the ladder 

 by which we had entered a high door in the ice- 

 house, and lowering it to him. 



One of my very clear recollections of a choice 

 day afield was in a swamp location of southern 

 Michigan where there were so many big swamp 

 rattlesnakes that my native guide, a temporary 

 acquisition, refused to step from the conveyance, 

 which carried us to the edge of the swamp; so I 

 was forced to carry my tripods, ladder, and cameras 

 and perform the day's work alone, or give up the 

 pictures I had come to secure. 



In all of these years of field work I have met with 

 every peril that can be found afield in nature, to 



