THE OOLOGIST. 



73 



fell away quite suddenly — and there, 

 scarcely three hundred feet away and 

 almost a third of that distance be- 

 low me, sat a Red-tail on her nest in 

 a slender sycamore. Surely, I thought, 

 she must have young. A shot from the 

 revolver woke the echoes and sent 

 her in headlong flight from her home. 

 I could not see into the nest well 

 enough to distinguish eggs from very 

 young birds, but nothing moved and 

 I determined to climb the tree. 



Down I went and up to the nest. 

 Drawing myself over the rim three 

 fine fresh eggs met my gaze. The 

 green leaves that had been used to 

 line the nest had not even had time 

 to turn brown, so new it was. 



Seven sets — none rare, but all good 

 — seemed enough for one day's col- 

 lecting and I turned for home. Night 

 was turning the grey shadows to 

 black and the tramp back over that 

 four or five miles was leg-tiring, not 

 to speak of soul-harrowing, etc. Fin- 

 ally, however, I did get home and 

 found a warm supper, such as 

 mothers can keep, waiting for me. 



The Lark Sparrow in Illinois. 



I saw him first on a bright spring 

 day along an ideal country road, 

 where trees were growing on either 

 side and whose branches almost 

 touched across the highway. I could 

 not help but know him, those white 

 tail feathers gave him away even be- 

 fore I could see the other markings 

 which were so prominent. 



I saw no more of the Lark Spar- 

 row until two weeks later while going 

 to Camp Illini to spend a few days I 

 saw a great many of them perched on 

 the fence posts or running along the 

 rails. Mr. Lark, with his breast 

 stuck out and his head thrown back 

 and tail feathers spread, strutting 

 from one end of the rail to the other 

 and singing with all his might while 



the lady of his heart was trying to 

 keep out of his way. 



The lark sparrow is somewhat shy, 

 never allowing one to approach very 

 near without taking flight. 



They like the stumpy pastures and 

 low creek bottoms where mullein and 

 other broad-leaved plants grow, under 

 their protecting leaves they hollow 

 out the ground and build a nest of 

 weeds and grasses and line it with 

 hair or fine grasses. In this locality 

 not more than five, rarely over four 

 eggs are laid and two or more broods 

 reared. I have never found a nest 

 anywhere except on the ground. 



SIDNEY S. S. STANSELL. 



The Prairie Falcon in California. 



One bright sunny day in March, 

 Mr. Walter Smith and myself 

 started out on a collecting trip. Using 

 a horse and cart for conveyance, we 

 traveled nearly six miles to a large 

 cliff. 



We tied our horse and walked near- 

 ly a half mile of the finish. When 

 with 300 yards, we saw a Prairie Fal- 

 and Smith exclaimed, "That one 

 came out of that small hole," pointing 

 to a certain cavity in the cliff. 



We could see the eggs without our 

 field glasses. I had a rope ladder 60 

 feet long and 100 feet of the other 

 rope, so after setting a peg to anchor 

 our ropes to, we let the ladder down 

 and I ascended from below to find 

 the eggs out of reach. 



We then hunted up an old can 

 and tied it to the end of a stick and 

 I fished the four eggs from the nest. 

 No one, until they have tried, can rea- 

 lize the risk of this work on a rope 

 ladder, but when I got the four eggs 

 I was happy as a lark. 



Hole was 40 feet down the face of 

 a dirt bluff or cliff and there was no 

 nest, merely a depression in the soil. 



On May 13, 1905, I took another 



