THE NATURALIST AND COLLECTOR 
9 
Collecting Eggs of the Qolden Eagle. 
W HILE spending* a winter in the 
Black Hills two years ag*o, 
the writer had an adventure 
which might prove of inter¬ 
est to those interested in ornithology 
and its branches. 
A cattle man from the foot-hill coun¬ 
try near Hermosa chanced to come into 
the bank at H-City one day in 
March, and while g-iving* us some bits of 
news from that reg-ion incidentally 
told us of an eagle’s nest that he had 
passed on his way up to our “camp.” 
He went on to say that the eagles had 
nested on a certain cliff for some years, 
and that, owing to the almost inacces¬ 
sibility of their eyrie, had never been 
molested. Having myself once been 
an egg-collector, I felt quite a return 
of my former enthusiasm at his ac¬ 
count, and determined to try to reach 
the nest, if only for the excitement 
connected with the undertaking. 
Accordingly, I obtained leave of ab¬ 
sence for a few days, and, having en¬ 
listed my friend, Mr. B-, of Chicago, 
in the enterprise, on the following 
morning we set out for the southern 
foot-hills and the eagle’s nest. We 
were well provided for all emergencies, 
having in the buckboard, in addition to 
a plentiful supply of food and robes, 
our rifles and revolvers, several hun¬ 
dred feet of rope, a pair of climbing 
irons and a prospector’s bag. 
As our destination was distant 35 
miles, and the mountain roads, at no 
time the smoothest, were then badly 
cut up by spring freshets, we drove 
through as far as a “camp” just beyond 
the mountains and “put up” for the 
night. 
The next morning we took an early 
start, and, with better roads and fresh 
horses, traveled the few remaining 
miles in a couple of hours, and about 9 
o’clock came in sight of the nest. The 
“cowpuncher” had, indeed, spoken the 
truth in saying the eyrie was hard to 
approach. 
A huge “butte” rose five or six hun¬ 
dred feet up from the plain, its sides so 
steep as to be almost precipitous, 
while on the side nearest, a creek 
which we had followed for several 
miles, was a limestone cliff sheer up 
and down for about three hundred 
feet. About half way up its face on a 
ledge, was the nest, a great black ob¬ 
ject, that contrasted strangely with its 
yellowish-white background. 
We took in the situation and naturally 
decided to ascend the butte to a point 
directly over the nest. So, after un¬ 
hitching and tethering the bronchos 
and taking out the paraphernalia, we 
worked our way around the butte to a 
side somewhat less steep than the 
greater part of it, and began the 
ascent, and after half an hour’s 
stumbling and slipping among the icy 
rocks, scrub pines and cacti we found 
ourselves above the cliff, and as nearly 
as we could judge, directly above the 
nest. Here, fortunately, the small 
gnarled trees were thick, affording us 
a means of support. 
In the meantime we had only noticed 
one of the eagles, a monstrous bird, 
that slowly sailed around only a little 
above our heads, but had as yet showed 
no signs of hostility. My friend now 
proceeded to tie one end of the rope 
securely around my chest; then, run¬ 
ning the other end around a stout scrub, 
he braced himself firmly and stood 
ready to “pay out” the rope as needed. 
Thus secured against any probable ac¬ 
cident, I carefully made my way down 
*tn the edge of the cliff and fired my 
