HUNTING BIRDS WITH CAMERA 



Magdalen Islands, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The 

 male seems to give warning to his brooding mate when 

 an intruder approaches the nest, and the pair dart 

 around very swiftly up in the air, making a humming 

 with their wings and sharp scolding notes. One of my 

 bright-eyed young friends hid and watched a female 

 until she alighted near her nest, which he then found, 

 and we all had chances to see her go fluttering up as 

 though desperately wounded. She was very tame in 

 returning, and by setting the camera on the ground, 

 focused on the nest, and pulling the thread, I secured 

 several good pictures of her in the act of brooding her 

 four dark mottled eggs. 



Previous to the severe winter of 1903-4, Bob-white 

 was an abundant bird in our locality. Sitting on my 

 piazza, I could hear ringing calls issuing from the out- 

 lying clover fields, as the proud little roosters challenged 

 one another from their observatories on stone wall or 

 rail fence. Sometimes, especially when driving, I have 

 passed quite close to our noisy little friend on the fence, 

 but he is off in a hurry, if one stops to look at him. In 

 the autumn I have followed up coveys to see what they 

 would do. Once, in September, I saw a number of 

 them on a stone wall. They flew down as I drove by, 

 into some bushes close at hand, and I hitched the horse 

 and went after them. Standing on the wall, I studied 

 over the ground under the bushes very carefully, but 

 could not make out a single bird. But when I tossed 

 in a big stone, up they all went like rockets, nearly 



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