INA\ 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[JUNE 23, 10906. 
RAIL [UISTORY 

In the Tree-tops with a Camera. 
THE camera enthusiast, who engages in natural 
history picture-making, soon finds that tree-top 
photography is the most exciting part in the 
game. The larger birds of prey generally nest as 
high from the ground as possible, and it is never 
an easy matter to manipulate a camera in the 
tree-tops. The photographer should be equipped 
with stout climbing irons, ropes, straps, a good 
supply of nerve and a steady head. 
The nesting positions that are selected by 
hawks, owls and eagles make it difficult to secure 
photographs of the eggs and young in the natural 
home site. The problem of getting successful 
snaps at the parent birds has rarely been solved. 
Again and again, we have tried to picture the 
larger birds of prey by hiding the camera in the 
tree-tops and attaching a long thread to the 
shutter, but such birds are always suspicious. 
Persecution at the hands of man for generations 
of bird life has made these creatures wary of 
every strange object and has bred a suspicion in 
them that strategy can scarcely overcome. 
« The difficulties of picturing one of these birds 
of prey ‘are well illustrated in our efforts to get 
photographs of a sparrow hawk at its home. We 
found this little hawk nesting-in a hollow syca- 
more tree. 
It is generally the case that each pair of rap- 
torial birds select a nesting and hunting ground 
from which all others of the same species are 
rigidly excluded. The owner is a sort of a baron 
in his own estate. I have often noted excep- 
tions in the cases of smaller hawks, or other 
small birds, nesting, as it were, fairly under the 
NEST OF GOLDEN EAGLE AND PHOTOGRAPHER, 

protection of larger species. I have seen a house 
finch build its home and rear its family in the 
side of a red-tailed hawk‘s nest, where both birds 
were less than a foot apart when setting on their 
eges. I have also seen house finches living in 
the side of a great blue heron’s nest. A sparrow 
hawk, that we found, was nesting in the tree ad- 
joining, and not more than thirty feet from the 
aery of a golden eagle. We watched and studied 
these two pair of birds, but never noticed the 
least interference on the part of one with the 
other. 
The entratice to the sparrow hawk’s nest was 
about twenty-five feet from the ground, and the 
nest was two feet below the entrance. The birds 
were accustomed to light on a branch near the 
nest, so we selected this as a target and fastened 
our camera in an adjoining tree focused at the 
perch. We carefully concealed the instrument 
with branches and sticks, so as to make it as 
much a part of the surroundings as possible. 
This was a task not easily performed, and re- 
quired half a day’s work. Then, with thread in 
hand, attached to the shutter, we took up our 
watch in some bushes about fifty feet away. Al- 
though well concealed, as we thought, the sus- 
picious new object in the tree prevented the birds 
from approaching the nest. So the camera had 
to be removed. Our next step was to arrange 
a biind for the camera further away, but at this 
distance only the telephoto lens could be used. 
Since the telephoto lens requires a longer ex- 
posure than the regular lens, the chances for a 
good picture were lessened considerably. Birds 
generally move just at the wrong instant, and the 
second day passed without a single successful 
plate. 
By the third day the birds had become accus- 
tomed enough to the camera to permit us to place 
it nearer the nest and to focus it on the door 
of the home. We were then sure of getting 
chances for exposure, but had new difficulties to 
face. The movements of the birds were so rapid 
that they were in and out of the door before we 
could click the shutter. Only the most rapid snap 
could catch such a picture, and only the brightest 
light was sufficient. But the entrance to the nest 
was shaded. To overcome this, we arranged a 
mirror so that the sun was reflected on the spot, 
and the object was then to click the shutter at 
the instant one of the birds passed through the 
rays of light. The results of such shooting gener- 
ally showed either a blank plate or the tail of a 
retreating bird. The difficulty of getting a good 
bird photograph is not alone in making a wing 
shot, but in shooting the bird in a position that 
affords the make-up for a picture. There is an 
intense excitement in shooting such subjects with 
a camera, but not till one enters the dark room, 
does he know of his failures and successes. > The 
successful shot is always a real victory. 
Hunting and fishing have their moments of in- 
tense excitement. Occasionally I like to go back 
to the more primitive way, by taking to the trail 
for two or three weeks, and hunting and fishing 
for a living. It sharpens the senses to live as 
the Indian lived. I have waded mountain streams 
and whipped the ripples for trout. I have hunted 
the woods for a dinner of grouse and quail. 
There is not a moment of more intense excite- 
ment that comes to the fisher or hunter than 
comes to the photographer, as he lies hidden in 
the bushes, camera focused and bulb in hand, 
waiting for some sly creature to come into posi- 
tion. I am inclined to think that a capture with 
the camera puts his cunning to a severer test and 
denotes a higher development in the inherent love 
for hunting. If it takes a good shot to clip the 
wing of a flying quail, or to catch a buck on the 
jump, it takes a skilled hand to anticipate bird 
movements that are too rapid for the eye, and 
click the shutter at the exact instant. It often 
takes unlimited patience; but there is a fascina- 

tion in overcoming the many difficulties. There 
is a smile of deep satisfaction that: sweeps over 
the face of the photographer as he stands over 
the dim, red-lighted bench and sees the magic 
chemicals transform the white-colored glass and 
etch out a wild bird or beast. Is it not a feeling 
_of higher pleasure than comes to the hunter as he 
looks at his quarry? 
But the chief source of satisfaction in a camera 
study of bird life comes not in the odd-time 
chances of observation; it comes in a continued 
period’ of leisure, when he may spend his entire 
time about bird homes, just as he takes a month’s 
vacation in the mountains. One cannot take a 
camera, no matter how expensive it is, and snap 
off good bird pictures during the spare moments 
of a busy day. He might, however, fill half a 
dozen note-books with valuable odd-time obser- 
vations. To be sure, the joy of nature comes to 
JIN THE TALL COTTONWOOD, SHOWING RED TAIL’S 
NEST AND PHOTOGRAPHER, 
