THE CONDOR 
| Vol. VIII 
138 
as I saw the old condor with her feathers ruffled, sitting at the mouth of her cave, 
and watched the whole performance thru my fieldglass. 
Down the mountain I went in haste that was dangerous and might have re- 
sulted in disaster had I not caught in some bushes. At the bottom I met the third 
member of the party, who was as excited as myself. When we reached the tree be- 
low the nest, we still found the condor watching her human visitor, who was look- 
ing out from behind the tree. But at the sight of two more men, with one or two 
huge wing-sweeps, she jumped over to the perch on the tree-top thirty feet away, 
and then after watching us a 
few minutes, silently and sul- 
lenly spread her wings and 
sailed down the canyon. 
We climbed to the rock 
above and found it was a huge 
bowlder set well into the 
mountain. Against this was 
leaning a big stone slab about 
ten feet high. This left a space 
about two by six feet and open 
at each end. This cave was 
lined with leaves and fine rock 
and in the middle was one big 
egg. We thought it was 
not far from hatching by its 
glossy surface and the tenacity 
with which the mother stayed 
on her nest. 
It seemed to be the sound 
of the pistol that the condor 
feared, for that alone had 
made her leave her home. 
Twice one of the boys crossed 
above the nest, and we had 
been yelling back and forth, 
but she had paid no attention 
to that. 
Even in California where 
the sun is supposed to shine 
one gets a rainy spell that will 
knock out all his calculations 
the old condor on one of his favorite perches, photo for taking bird pictures. And 
taken while bird was yawn.ng a per i 0 d of dark, rainy weather 
is likely to come at the very time it is not wanted. Regardless of the foggy, cloudy 
weather, we set out one morning about a week later. When we reached the foot of 
the hills, the fog was thicker than ever and had turned into a drizzling rain. But 
we shouldered our two cameras, blankets and other equipment that we had taken 
with the expectation of making a two days’ trip. 
When we came to the brink of the canyon and descended a hundred feet along 
a steep trail thru the brush, worn out partly by the pouring waters of the recent 
rain, instead of an almost dry creek-bed that we had found on the first trip, we now 
had to wade and jump from rock to rock to cross the swift current. 
