THE ROBBERS OF THE FALLS 



Meanwhile, one afternoon, I had gone the rounds 

 again, and by each of the three raptores' nests — "rap- 

 tores," meaning robbers, is the Latin scientific name of 

 the order of hawks, owls, and the like — I had tied up a 

 small cereal box with a round hole in one end, to 

 represent a camera and lens, with a piece of burlap or 

 sacking pinned over it, like a focusing cloth, placing 

 this in the hemlock tree just where I planned to set the 

 camera. The hawks generally get used to the novelty 

 after awhile, and, when the real camera is set there, 

 they do not mind it at all. The main trouble is to 

 make them believe you have left the woods, for they 

 will not go to the nest as long as they think anyone is 

 near. 



The hawk was at home, having become used to my 

 dummy camera. With my own 4x5 camera slung 

 over my shoulder in its case and other necessary instru- 

 ments in my pocket, I began to climb and told Ned to 

 come up after me. By the time he was halfway up the 

 tree he hesitated, for it seemed a long way down to that 

 roaring brook. I told him to keep his eyes on a level 

 and not mind the rocks below, because there were 

 plenty of strong branches and he could not fall. So he 

 got up where he could look into the nest and watched 

 me fix the camera. 



It took me quite a while to rig it up, screwing it with 

 a bolt and ball-and-socket clamp to the right hand side 

 of the trunk, so it could point toward the nest and 

 nothing be in the way of the plate-holder. I took off 



39 



