16 THE CONDOR Vol. XXI 
shelf is cleared, would seem to make it peculiarly acceptable. The composition, 
or rather the setting of the nest, even more than in case of V148 suggests com- 
plete harmony with its surroundings. For, curiously enough, there are some 
fallen wisps or bunches of the yellow-green lichen at the base of nearly every tree 
hereabouts, and as likely as not a considerable admixture of the blackbeard moss. 
In searching, therefore, one sees dozens of spots which precisely resemble this 
one, nest and all. 
The bird had just gone into shadow today as I made my appearance at 1:15 
p. M. I have considerable time, therefore, to accustom her to the presence of the 
camera before the next full sunshine falls. The male sings a little in the offing 
just to let her know he is on the job. At my first approach the female allowed 
me to come within five feet, then dashing silently off and downward, fluttered 
ostentatiously over the ground. I retired while she had a bug or two, exchanged 
confidences with her solicitous mate, made a feint or two and was back, within 
five minutes. At my second approach I got within three feet before she flushed. 
Then she flew silently about 15 feet before she checked, and began to fluttter la- 
boriously, with tail depressed and wings held high. J retired and she was back, 
by direct descent from an overhead limb, within two minutes. Thereafter follows 
nearly an hour of getting acquainted—so successful, indeed, that I am miserable 
over the prospect of either horn of the dilemma, taking or leaving the eggs. I 
make advances quite professionally, but mv heart does not go out, and my meth- 
ods are both harsh and hasty. Nevertheless, when the shadow does clear at three 
o clock, I have the bird tamed so that I can go right up with the Graflex and bang 
away at two feet. This I did ad nauseam, and the bird never stirred. But when 
| brought up the Premo and tripod and stood it over her, then there was trouble. 
She would stand the camera, but she wouldn’t let me put out my hand to snap it. 
But she was plucky! Back and forth she went, back and forth,—till, finally, I 
took charge of the situation and photographed the eggs. Then I put my photo- 
eraphic apparatus up, intending to take the eggs in spite of all conscience. But 
the way that bird recovered those eggs would have melted the heart of a rhino- 
ceros. I photographed her some more, then sat down to write these notes. The 
ezes are exceptionally large and handsome with heavy red spotting. The nest 
would be a prize in itself, composed, as it is, chiefly of blackbeard hehen, whose 
skirts overlie heavy clumps of Evernia lichen, like lace over silk. The nesting 
hollow is, of course, of fine dry grass. | 
During our prolonged seance we were visited by several curious birds, nota- 
bly a pair of Red-breasted Nuthatches. Once I found my Graflex camera unwit- 
tingly pointed at a nuthatch not over six feet away; but alas! I had on the Ross 
lens, whose minimum range is 11 feet. 
215/8-16 Townsend Solitaire; Squaw Creek; alt. 7800 feet; July 14, 1916: 
At the first sound of a singing Solitaire, I set to work to look for nests at the foot 
of the trees. Almost immediately I found one tucked away in a cranny under. 
the base of a giant Shasta fir, so completely concealed, indeed, that not a twig of 
its fourteen-inch spread could be seen from a point straight above. The twigs 
were in perfect condition, but the disarray of the grass lining, as well as the sod- 
den condition of the only bit of moss, blackbeard lichen, which the structure 
boasted, apprised one that he was viewing an old nest, presumably last year’s. — 
The hillside here carries a magnificent forest of Shasta firs, each with its 
curve-kneed base and its lichen-covered shelf on the under side. The ground was, 
also, sharply sloping and, although a west exposure, is still half covered with 
