AI4 The City of the Pelicans 
in bright sunlight. The one essential is that 
it be kept absolutely without jar or movement 
during exposure ; and I usually find it best to 
prop up the front with a stick, or with a light 
rod carried for the purpose. With a focal 
plane shutter on a long-foeus camera of the 
reflex type for flight pictures, the same lens 
interchangeable, the battery is complete for 
every emergency in practical bird photogra- 
phy. Yet one good instrument alone is very 
satisfactory, and if I were to select one in- 
strument for general work in nature photo- 
graphy, I would have a long-focus four-by- 
five camera, of any reliable, well-known 
make; preferably witha larger lens than the 
ordinary, and a high-power telephoto at- 
tachment. 
Now about the actual photographie work 
ontheisland. First I took a number of gen- 
eral views, snapshots with the camera in 
hand, of the pelicans on their nests and in 
flight. Then, with the camera on the tripod, 
I photographed nests at close range, with 
eggs and young, using a ball and socket 
clamp, which makes it possible to point the 
camera in any direction. When these routine 
matters had been disposed of, I had the rest 
of the precious time for that fascinating, but 
often nerve-wearing, branch of the subject, 
—hbird portraiture. In general the method is 
to place the camera, preferably not on the 
tripod, concealed as well as circumstances 
will permit, near a nest or place to which the 
bird is likely to return; attach a spool of 
black linen thread or rubber tube to the shut- 
ter of the camera— I much prefer the former 
—retire to a more or less distant hiding- 
place, as the case may require, and, await- 
ing the return of the subject, pull or squeeze 
at the opportune moment. I always use the 
lens at full aperature, one-fiftieth of a second 
in bright sunshine with the quickest of plates, 
or the briefest timed interval, if the light is 
dull. If the day be dark, the case is almost 
hopeless, for birds are very active, and are 
nearly certain to move when they hear the 
click of the shutter—for thereisno shutter 
which I have been able to find that is really 
silent. 
Over at the farther end of the southwest 
settlement the area of nests extended almost 
to a tract of tall weeds. Here I found it con- 
venient to plant the camera on the shortened 
tripod, allowing the weeds to arch over it, 
where it commanded a view of a number of 
nests at moderate distance. When I with- 
drew a few yards, the birds at once returned, 
and I pulled the thread. Then, after two or 
three such exposures, I placed the camera on 
its case upon the ground, and focused upon 
a near-by nest, covering the camera with the 
rubber cloth and then with dry grass. The 
birds did not seem afraid of it—though in simi- 
lar cases they usually are—and returned very 
soon, giving me all the exposures I wished. 
Over in the eastern colony a pelican that 
had her nest at the foot of a stub returned 
readily to her eggs, though I had placed the 
larger camera on the sand, without conceal- 
ment, but little overa yardaway. She would 
waddle past the camera and onto her nest, 
settle down, and draw in her chin in the usual 
dignified attitude, seeming to say, “I’m all 
ready now; pull your string!” I also set the 
camera on the tripod in the open, near some 
nests on a mangrove, and pulled the thread 
when some of the old birds alighted on the 
empty nests, near the large youngsters. An- 
other successful method was to drive a com- 
pany of these well-grown young down to the 
shore, where they would stop and allow me 
to creep up within ten feet before taking to 
the water. 
We stayed on the island until half after 
four, but were careful not to remain in any 
one spot near nests, thus keeping the birds 
away. Newly-hatched young will soon die in 
the sun, if not brooded; and visitors to bird 
colonies will do well to remember this, or 
they may do great damage. 
During the day the wind, which had start- 
ed up from the north, had steadily increased, 
and all the afternoon had been blowing a 
gale down the river. We waited in vain for 
it to veer to the suotheast, as such a wind 
on the Indian River usually does by night, 
and at length we had to start on our long . 
hard beat to windward. Our eraft was a 
wretched sea-boat. Every wave broke fairly 
over her, and after the first few moments 
we were all soaked to the skin. By dark we 
had hardly made four miles, and were almost 
perishing with cold —yes, even in Florida! 
We debated leaving the boat, to walk across 
the strip of jungle and up the ocean beach, 
the character of the river shore making 
walking there impossible. But the fear of 
stepping on rattlesnakes in the dark deterred 
us, and we pounded wearily along. The night 
was dark, indeed, when the wind eanted a 
few points to the eastward, and at a late 
hour, weary, shivering, hungry, we reached 
Oak Lodge again, not sorry, however, that 
we had visited wonderful Pelican Island. 
