The Nest of an Osprey. 
the young hawks in their lofty, breezy 
home. 
My most difficult achievement (on the 
photographic side of ‘‘hawking”’) has been 
the securing of a picture of a Cooper’s 
hawk brooding its eggs forty-two feet up a 
hemlock tree, the camera being but four 
feet away, and yet the hawk so wary that 
it would not allow me to approach it on the 
nest within gunshot. I did it by nailing up 
a ‘“‘dummy” camera—a box with a round 
hole in it, partly covered with a piece of 
burlap—near by in the woods, changing 
its position and accustoming the wily bird 
to its presence, until I had it right over the 
nest. Then I replaced it with my own 
camera, fastened by ball and socket clamp 
to a screw-bolt, covered it with the same 
cloth, and lay in a bower a hundred yards 
away, with a line of communication to the 
shutter of the camera by a spool of black 
linen thread. On consecutive afternoons 
I secured two exposures on the bird, which 
returned to the nest in forty minutes the 
first time, an hour the second. The first at- 
tempt failed through a mishap to the 
plate; the second was entirely successful, 
after a purgatory of trial, through the ac- 
tion of the hawk in first alighting close over 
my head, and keeping me motionless on 
my face for what seemed like ages, not 
even daring to brush off the swarm of 
mosquitoes that were draining my life- 
blood. 
(Love Buy. 
sn Ca / 704 
