BIRDS AND THE CAMERA 69 



blew, there to rest from the arduous, though 

 interesting, labour of photographing recalcitrant 

 fly-catchers under the direct rays of the hot July sun. 



On such a trying day the open fields and scrub 

 lands offered but slight inducement for bird hunting, 

 and so I chose by preference the woods and thickets 

 that bordered the stream. 



It was a likely place for birds, but the heat was 

 great, and I wandered in that aimless way which 

 seldom leads to finding anything. Here and there 

 beneath the kindly shadow of a heavily foliaged tree 

 I noticed birds, but they showed little animation, 

 and sat quietly with beaks open as though gasping 

 for breath. Birds suffer greatly from heat, so that 

 on days when the temperature is high they move 

 about but little, excepting during the earher and 

 later hours of the day, preferring rather some 

 secluded and shady place where they may rest 

 undisturbed during the hours of the greatest heat. 



Not finding anything new, I remembered the 

 beautiful basket-like nest of the Red-eyed Vireo, in 

 which, but twelve days ago, I had seen two eggs 

 and two tiny naked bodies that had so recently left 

 the cramped quarters of their imprisoning shell. 

 Probably by now they would have abandoned their 

 nest and be hiding in the dense tangle of vines 

 that grew beneath the hanging cradle. It would 

 be difficult to find them, but fortune is often kind, 

 and I would try her once more. 



The nest as I drew near bore the semblance of a 

 deserted house, and indeed it proved to be empty, 

 but even in its emptiness it was an object of 

 interest. I noticed for the first time that it was 



