46 
THE COXDOR 
Vol. XI 
wound up the night before, and we were at somewhat of a loss just when to be hun- 
gry. But that evening the first call of our friend the poor-will reminded me of 
his recent regularity and the watch was set at eight o’clock. It happened to be 
foggy on that particular evening, and on returning to civilization we found the 
watch ten minutes fast. Yet that was near enough to get hungry by — in camp. 
Tho rather an oldish boy now, and gray haired to boot, I have never gotten 
over the deer hunting habit, nor lost interest in flushing a Poor- Will. And yet in 
all these years, and in all the hunting — for game, cattle and poachers — on the 
ranges of the Rancho San Geronimo it has never been my good fortune to come 
across a nest of these birds until July 22nd of this past year (1908). A few days 
before — on July 14th, to be exact — my brother and I, with a couple of friends, 
established ourselves in the old camp for a week’s enjoyment of out-of-door life 
EGGS AND NESTIXG SITE OF DUSKY POOR-WIDE 
with a little hunting and collecting as an added zest. Just at dusk on the evening 
of the 19th, as I was returning to camp along the top of a rocky ridge a Dusky 
Poor-Will flushed from among some fragments of serpentine rock in a spot from 
which we had burnt the low, scrubby manzanita brush the previous winter, but, 
supposing the bird was feeding at the time, I thought nothing of the occurrence, 
especially at such a late date in the season. 
On the morning of July 22nd we broke camp, hunting a little on the way home. 
While standing on a rock overlooking a long canyon, one of our ranch foremen, 
passing along a trail about two hundred yards behind me, called out that he had 
something to talk about and started across the rocky ground thru the burnt brush 
to come to me. I started to meet him and when we were about 60 yards apart I 
