626 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



ALMOST READY TO LAUNCH THE PIANO-BOX BLIND 



On two steel cables it was lowered over the cliff, near the edge of which the author's son is 

 standing. Entering from above by rope ladder, the observer placed his camera on a shelf, lashed 

 down the cover, and awaited the return of the old birds (see illustration, page 625). When the big 

 box first appeared at their very door, the falcons circled suspiciously, but instead of deserting the 

 eggs they finally sailed in to the nest and continued rearing a family. 



prowess was reflected in their varied list 

 of game. 



Other families studied in previous years 

 and under different conditions were fed 

 chiefly on ground squirrels. A fellow ob- 

 server found in the Mojave Desert region 

 a nest of five young raised to a healthy 

 maturity on a diet of chuckwalla lizards, 

 with an occasional collared lizard by way of 

 variety. 



My first attempts to secure movies and 

 stills of parents and young together had 

 been tantalizing and only partly successful. 

 One trip down a cliff for each still shot or 

 movie run is too much of a good thing. 



Two years later, therefore, a comfortable 

 and roomy box blind, stoutly framed and 

 securely supported by light steel cables from 

 two drill-steel pins, was swung into place at 

 a favorably located nesting site. 



An old cotton comforter spread in the 

 bottom and on the bench deadened my foot- 

 falls and made a soft seat. Cracks between 

 the floor boards let in a cooling breeze. 



The eggs, which were hatched after the 

 blind was first lowered into place, but before 

 it was occupied, were laid in an old raven 

 or owl's nest instead of on the bare ledge. 



The nest itself was within six feet of the 

 cameras, and when the young began to move 

 about the distance was often from two to 

 four feet. 



To say that I was on intimate terms with 

 the family is putting it mildly. We even 

 dined together, they eating ground squirrel 

 or meadowlark on the outside, while I had 

 a vacuum bottle of coffee, with sandwiches, 

 fruit, and cake inside the blind. 



At first the whir or click of the cameras 

 put the old birds to hasty flight, but soon 

 they became absolutely calloused to these 

 noises and even to the sound of tearing off 

 the paper tabs of the film packs. 



It was astounding that one of the wildest 

 of birds could be filmed at such close range 

 that the portrait attachment had to be used, 

 and the operator could have reached out to 

 the bird with his hand. 



