WEEK-ENDS WITH THE PRAIRIE FALCON 



613 



JUST TWO AND A HALF OUNCES OF SLEEPY FALCON 



Here at the tender age of three days he could keep his eyes open for only a moment. He fre- 

 quently lost his balance and curled up as if still in the shell while tape and camera were recording 

 his size (see illustration, opposite page). But all at once he began to grow amazingly, doubling his 

 weight in the next four days. In 24 days an enormous appetite had boosted the figure to 20 ounces, 

 an increase of 700 per cent ! 



the cliff IS feet above her head and drove 

 in a steel pin to anchor the rope. She finally 

 decided to leave, however, when the loose 

 end of the rope was thrown down the face 

 of the cliff just in front of her. 



One who has long since arrived at years of 

 discretion, weighs 200, and is not particu- 

 larly fond of high places takes no chances. 

 My anchor pin was a stout three-foot length 

 of drill steel, and to it was attached not only 

 a "hand line," which I firmly grasped, but a 

 "bosun's chair," in which I sat while being 

 lowered straight down ten feet to the edge 

 of the ledge. On the upward journey I 

 would dig my toes into the cracks in the 

 rocks, climb the hand line until my breath 

 gave out, and with the last gasp yell to those 

 above to haul in on the bosun's chair. 



Gaining the first foothold on the end of 

 the nesting ledge was always a precarious 

 feat, since the rock above overhung slightly. 

 By balancing a moment, however, and get- 

 ting a little slack in both lines, it was easy 

 to swing under, and then everything was 

 safe, comfortable, and cosy. 



As soon as I had time to get a firm foot- 



ing and look around, I found the nest con- 

 tained five instead of four eggs — and they 

 were beauties (see illustration, page 614). 



I could have remained indefinitely, seated 

 comfortably on that sandy ledge, high up 

 the cliff, admiring both the beautiful mark- 

 ings of the eggs and the view spread below 

 me; but the anxious cries of the parents 

 from cliff and tree and the fear of their 

 deserting the nest sent me scrambling back 

 up the cliff and away. 



The next week-end found me sneaking 

 up behind the sheltering ridge in fear and 

 trembling lest the egg collector on whose 

 bailiwick I was trespassing had been there 

 in my absence. 



But luck was still with me. The female 

 was on the eggs, sat tight, and let me take 

 a half-hidden seat under a scraggly oak. 

 She was very nervous at first, but betrayed 

 it only by keeping her head well up, like a 

 poorly made wooden decoy, and turning a 

 watchful eye not only on me, but on every- 

 thing far or near that looked suspicious. 



As her fear wore off, she lowered her head 

 between her shoulders, but did not at any 



