202 
FOREST AND STREAM 
May, 1922 
TRAPPING CROWS WITH A CAMERA 
THERE IS ALWAYS SOMETHING TO LEARN FROM PHOTO- 
GRAPHS OF LIVING BIRDS AS NO TWO PICTURES ARE ALIKE 
By HENRY R. CAREY 
AS a boy I made a bird-skin of a 
/ \ crow that I found dead in the 
^ A snow. It was not a bad skin, as 
skins go, but I was not satisfied 
with it. After I had spent some time in 
running my fingers over the glossy black 
feathers and testing the strength of the 
huge ebony beak, it began to dawn upon 
me that this stuffed specimen was almost 
exactly like hundreds of thousands of 
similar skins in the cabinets of natural- 
ists the world over. If it had been even 
a supremely good piece of taxidermy, the 
same defect would have clung to it. This 
skin, in fact, lacked all individuality. 
There was nothing original about it. 
How much more satisfactory, I reflected, 
would be the living wild bird, or even 
a poor photograph of the living bird. 
Naturalists who collect skins get noth- 
ing new nnless they obtain a rare spe- 
cies, and half the time they buy their 
collections, in whole or in part, and do 
not have the fun and interest of collect- 
ing themselves. But photographs of liv- 
ing wild birds, as far as I knew, were 
on sale nowhere. People got them them- 
selves in the field, or they had to be 
content with looking at the trophies ob- 
tained by others. No two photographs, 
even of the commonest bird, were alike. 
There were in each case variations in 
background and position, which plainly 
told the story of a hunting adventure 
unlike any other. 
What was more important still, there 
was always something to learn from a 
photograph about the habits of the bird. 
All nature photographs were thus a real 
contribution to science, whereas most 
bird skins were not. 
My hunting instinct, moreover, was as 
strong as any boy’s, and was mingled 
with a love of wild nature. I had to be 
hunting something. Thus it happened 
that in 1907 I finally laid away my col- 
lection of bird skins and eggs (most of 
which had been bought or “swapped” 
like inanimate stamps or marbles), and 
began an active summer campaign of 
wits against that wild and shrewd bird, 
the crow. 
Now (as I soon decided) there are 
several ways of photographing birds. 
They can be : 
( 1 ) Stalked on land or by water ; 
(2) Photographed near their nests; 
(3) Attracted to a spot near which a 
camera is concealed. 
The plan of attempting to stalk a wild 
crow with a camera I gave up with some 
regret. 
It was certainly a real “sporting propo- 
sition.” It meant pitting my eyes and 
ears against the crow’s. But a very few 
attempts showed me that I was inferior 
in seeing and hearing powers to the 
youngest and stupidest of crow sopho- 
mores. 
P hotographing a crow near its 
nest high in the pines seemed, in 
theory at least, quite as difficult as stalk- 
ing one. I could not imagine how I 
could conceal myself and camera near a 
crow’s nest without greatly alarming the 
wary parents, and I could not devise in 
my mind any way by which, if I operated 
the camera from the ground, I could tell 
just when the adult birds were within 
the range of my lens. I had grave fears, 
moreover, that the old crows, on account 
of their extreme caution and timidity, 
might let their eggs grow cold or permit 
their young to starve rather than ap- 
proach their nest if it were disturbed by 
man. That I was probably right is indi- 
cated by the scarcity of bona fide pho- 
tographs of adult crows near their nests. 
I have yet to see one. 
fr ' 
One further reason for abandoning 
this method of attack was its compara- 
tively unsportsmanlike method. To pho- 
tograph any birds near their nest, if they 
would approach at all, seemed too easy. 
It was taking an unfair advantage of a 
creature engaged in the lawful and nat- 
ural and-not-to-be-interfered-with occu- 
pation of reproducing its kind. 
Therefore, I turned at last to the 
most exciting and absorbing of all the 
possible methods — attracting the crows 
to a spot near which the camera was 
concealed. Against me in this interest- 
ing game were arrayed all the black 
forces of a crow army to the number of 
about two hundred. This loosely-organ- 
ized body fed within the three-mile circle 
of pine woods and salt estuaries where 
I wandered. They were widely scattered 
at ordinary times. In moments of dan- 
ger they gathered with surprising speed 
into a formidable flock. During the win- 
ter the whole community sometimes 
roosted together. At high tide they 
rested or tended their young in the 
springtime among the tall pines. At low 
tide they flew, in silent bands, down 
out of the woods. When they reached 
the salty coast, far from the home roost, 
they scattered widely, becoming vocal, 
and, always with a sentinel perched 
above them, they began, among the rocks 
and eel-grass, their patient search for 
sea food. They were awake and alert 
from before sunrise until night. It was 
against this astonishingly keen -sighted 
and shrewd organization that I began 
my attempt. 
That the campaign was not certain of 
success the farmers led me to believe. 
I found among them a very sincere, if 
grudging, respect for the “black devils” ; 
the sagacity of these winged foxes in 
eluding the snares of man was evidently 
more than a tradition. 
(Continued on page 222) 
The camera shutter was released by a The camera trap snapped him at Crow attacking stuffed great horned owl 
long thread running to the blind just the right moment 
