The White-throated Swift 
lines like a cat. There was nothing for it but to hew off the whole mass, 
and a single pry of the pike sent off half a ton of earth, about ten feet of 
the scale. Next I sent off another scale below the first one, bearing no 
relation to it except that I had to have it out of the way in order to get 
at the lower third of the main works. This time a full ton of the earthy 
rock fell away, and it was no pleasant sensation to hear it thundering 
down while I clung to the lines. 
Well; so much was done, and too well done, and no help for it. 
When I dug into the crevice again I found the nest all right, and it had 
eggs, or rather had had. They lay, whether four or five of them I could 
not tell, crushed to a 
jelly and sodden with 
the earth which pressed 
down upon the nest at 
every point. 1 took the 
sad remains out, placed 
them in my hat, and 
heaved aloft, a downcast 
and dispirited bird-man. 
It was nothing that I 
had seen another Swift 
enter a crevice lower 
down and further along 
the cliff. I had had 
enough of Swift nesting 
for one season! 
May 31, 1913. Six 
o’clock! Sun’s up! Hoo¬ 
ray! Let’s go after 
Swifts’ nests! Agreed ! 
That is, agreed while 
William slept. A Road- 
runner who was making 
me an early morning 
call ratified the arrange¬ 
ment by jerking his tail 
three times assuringly, 
then scuttled into cover. 
William agreed, too, 
when he woke up; but 
it was ten o’clock by the 
time we got to it. It 
Taken in 
San Luis 
Obispo 
County 
Photo by 
the Author 
A DOBE NESTING CLIFF 
‘‘kelly” truesdale in center of picture 
967 
