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numbers rising and alighting; the reeds 
over a wide area seemed full of them. 
Handing the glasses to my friend, a thor- 
ough enthusiast, who had yet to behold 
this long-sought spectacle, | exclaimed, 
“Now you can shout; we have found it 
at last!” 
Driving to the margin of the great 
marshy flat, where the prairie began to 
be wet, we halted. Near us began a solid 
area of reeds that extended out perhaps 
a quarter of a mile to the first open water. 
We could now hear the confused sound of 
the chattering of a multitude of gulls. 
With cameras’ strapped to our backs and 
long rubber boots pulled up, we started in, 
rather anxiously, to test the depth of water 
among the reeds. Very likely it might 
prove too deep to wade, and we had no 
boat. In exploring the North Dakota 
colony | had found the water out by the 
nests neck deep and a boat essential. But 
here, as we waded on and on, the water, 
much to our joy, was only up to the knees. 
Canvasbacks, redheads and other ducks 
kept flying out before us, and coots and 
grebes slipped off through the tangle that 
grew from the water, but we were not 
bothering that day over such “common” 
things; we were about to witness a sight 
so remarkable that we had no eyes for any- 
thing else. Though half way out the water 
had not increased in depth. We were ap- 
proaching the nearest of the gulls, and they 
began to discover us. They were rising 
with loud screams and wheeling to meet 
us. The sunshine was now splendid, and 
their white plumage and rosy breasts 
flashed and sparkled. The first nests were 
at our feet at last, rude floating platforms 
of dead reed-stems, each with two or three 
large drab eggs heavily marked with black. 
It had seemed as though the whole colony 
must be a-wing, yet at almost every step 
new multitudes were startled and rose with 
tragic screams. We could see them rising 
away ahead and far along the strip of reeds 
on either side of us. In every direction, 
indeed, we were encompassed by thousands 
upon thousands of screaming, indignant, 
outraged birds. Those whose nests were 
at our feet darted at our heads with the 
most reckless abandon. The noise was 
tremendous, ear-splitting; conversation 
was next to impossible. 
Here was material for a day’s work, 
The Outing Magazine 
and after we had rambled about in the 
colony as far as we cared to explore, with- 
out ever reaching the end of it, we set 
to work in earnest. My friend began by 
photographing nests with eggs, or with 
small young, for a few of them had begun 
to hatch. Conditions indicated that the 
first eggs had been laid about May twen- 
tieth, and thence on to the first of June. 
I began on flying birds, for I had brought 
out from shore my 5x7 reflex camera for 
this purpose. I set the focal-plane shutter 
at one six- to eight-hundredth of a second 
and took some general views showing the 
reed-tops and the clouds of birds. One 
direction was as good as another, as long 
as it was not toward the sun. 
Then came snapshots at groups at fairly 
close range, and at single birds with the 
22-inch single lens of the 11-inch doublet, 
which would give the bird large on the 
plate. If any one imagines these perform- 
ances to be easy | should like to have him 
watch the bewildering maze of bird images 
that are darting across the ground-glass, 
and see when he would decide to snap. 
They are in all positions and distances, 
in focus and out of it. A good combina- 
tion occurs for the veriest fraction of a 
second; to hesitate is to be lost to this 
opportunity. The irresolute one will stand 
there for no one knows how long, follow- 
ing and focusing, till fingers are blistered 
and neck almost broken, without taking a 
single picture. Or, if he carelessly snaps 
away at random he probably will get 
fourth-rate results. 
It was amusing to watch my companion 
planted out in the reeds, his head under 
the focus-cloth, or adjusting the instru- 
ment, and the swarm darting about him 
like angry bees. If they had had stings he 
surely would not have escaped alive. 
By one o’clock I had carefully exposed 
some three dozen plates, and we both 
waded back to the rig, untangled the 
stupid horse, ate lunch in comfort on the 
wagon-seat, despite the equally hungry 
mosquitoes, and then started in again for 
the afternoon’s work. This time I carried 
my 4x5 long-focus instrument for tripod 
work, with two dozen plates. First | 
worked on nests with eggs and young. 
Then, having noticed that the beautiful 
birds kept alighting in open pools, some- 
times quite a number at a time, I set up 
{J try 
