118 WILD LIFE AND THE CAMERA 



to disturb the confiding and patient little creature, 

 I retired in ignorance of what she was guarding so 

 carefully. 



The fact of not having seen either of the birds 

 carrjdng food led me to suppose she had eggs. If 

 so, it was to be expected that the following morning 

 by 8 or 9 o'clock the sun's rays would creep 

 through openings between the tree tops, and, keep- 

 ing the eggs warm, would allow the small bird a 

 short rest from that self-imposed but surely tedious 

 task of incubating, and then I could get a glimpse 

 at her treasure, whatever it might be. And so it 

 happened, for when I returned in the morning 

 the sun had taken the mother bird's task in keep- 

 ing warm the four pinky-white bespeckled eggs. 

 Taking one out of its casket I examined it with 

 transmitted light. Through the thin shell I could 

 clearly see that it would be but a matter of hours, 

 or at most one day, before the young would arrive. 



The parents both seriously objected, I fear, to 

 this act of what I trust was pardonable curiosity, 

 so I quickly returned the fraU egg to its proper 

 place, and stepping back a few paces watched the 

 excited birds ; nor had I long to wait, for they, 

 knowing full well that their home was discovered, 

 made no attempt at concealment. 



One of them — we must suppose it was the female, 

 but as they do not show any difference in colouring 

 or marking I could only surmise — made straight for 

 the nest and, after looking carefully at each egg 

 to see tliat no ill had befallen it, arranged herself 

 comfortably with feathers fluffed out, so that she 

 appeared nearly double her proper size. Then she 



