Part 2

The Black-poll Warbler, which one may see about the same time, is a much larger bird and of slower movement, and is colored much like the Black and White Creeping Warbler with a black cap on its head. The song of this bird is the finest, the least in volume, and most insect-like of that of any Warbler known to me. It is the song of the Black and White Creeper reduced, high and swelling in the middle and low and faint at its beginning and ending. When one has learned to note and discriminate the Warblers, he has made a good beginning in his or her ornithological studies.

John Burroughs at 'Slab Sides'

Some years ago a favor to a neighbor resulted in Mr. Burroughs acquiring possession of a small 'muck swamp' situated in a valley in the hills, a mile or more west of his home at West Park, on the Hudson. To Mr. Burroughs, the agriculturist, this apparently worthless bit of ground promised a rich return after it had yielded to successive attacks of brush-knife, grubbing-hook, plough, and spade. To Burroughs, the literary naturalist and nature-lover, this secluded hollow in the woods offered a retreat to which he could retire when his eyes wearied of the view of nature tamed and trimmed, from his study on the bank of the Hudson.

In the spring of 1895 the muck swamp was a seemingly hopeless tangle of brush and bogs, without sign of human habitation. One year later its black bed was lined with long rows of luxuriant celery, while from a low point at one end of the swamp had arisen a rustic cabin fitting the scene so harmoniously that one had to look twice to see it.

This is 'Slab Sides,' a dwelling of Mr. Burroughs' own planning, and, in part, construction, its outer covering of rough sawn slabs, which still retain their bark, being the origin of its name. In a future number we hope to present a photograph of the exterior of Slab Sides, with an account of the birds its owner finds about it. Part of its interior is well shown by our photograph of Mr. Burroughs seated before the fireplace, in which, as head mason and stone-cutter, he takes a justifiable pride. Here, from April to November, Mr. Burroughs makes his home, and here his most sympathetic readers may imagine him amid surroundings which are in keeping with the character of his writings.

The Camera as an Aid in the Study of Birds

BY DR. THOS. S. ROBERTS

Director, Department of Birds, Natural History Survey of Minnesota. With photographs from Nature, by the Author.

[Illustration]

Anyone having an earnest interest in both natural history and photography can find no more delightful and profitable way of spending leisure hours than by prying into the secrets of Dame Nature with an instrument capable of furnishing such complete and truthful information as the camera. Delightful and fascinating, because it not only gives worthy purpose and charming zest to all outing trips, but yields results that tell in no uncertain way of things and incidents that it would be well nigh impossible to preserve in any other manner. There is no department of nature-study in which the camera cannot be turned to excellent account, and while records of lasting and scientific value are being made, the devotee of amateur photography has at the same time full scope for the study of his art. What may, perhaps, be considered the greatest value, albeit an unrecognized one, of the present widespread camera craze, is the development of a love for the beautiful and artistic which may result, and along the line of study here suggested may surely be found abundant material to stimulate in the highest degree these qualities. Too much time is spent and too much effort expended by the average 'kodaker' in what has been aptly termed "reminiscent photography," the results being of but momentary interest and of no particular value to anybody.

In the present and subsequent articles, it is intended to illustrate by pictures actually taken in the field by the veriest tyro in the art of photography, what may be accomplished by any properly equipped amateur in the way of securing portraits of our native birds in their wild state and amid their natural surroundings. Supplemental to such portraits are the more easily taken photographs of the nests, eggs, young, and natural haunts of each species; the whole graphically depicting the most interesting epoch in the life-history of any bird. Words alone fail to tell the story so clearly, so beautifully, and so forcibly. And, best of all, this can be accomplished without carrying bloodshed and destruction into the ranks of our friends the birds; for we all love to call the birds our friends, yet some of us are not, I fear, always quite friendly in our dealings with them. To take their pictures and pictures of their homes is a peaceful and harmless sort of invasion of their domains, and the results in most cases are as satisfactory and far-reaching as to bring home as trophies lifeless bodies and despoiled habitations, to be stowed away in cabinets where dust and insects and failing interest soon put an end to their usefulness. It is not intended, of course, to reflect in any way upon the establishment of orderly and well-directed collections, for such are absolutely necessary to the very existence of the science of ornithology. To such collections the great body of amateur bird students should turn for the close examinations necessary to familiarize themselves with the principles of classification and the distinctions between closely related species. Indeed, it is impossible for anyone to be intelligently informed as to the many varieties of birds, and their wonderful seasonal changes of plumage, without having actually handled specimens.

[Illustration: CHICKADEE AT NEST-HOLE, WITH FOOD FOR YOUNG]

The growth of avian photography has been of short duration,--only a few years in this country and not much longer in England, where it seems to have had its inception. But there are already one or two good books dealing with the subject; and a goodly number of ornithological works of recent date, and especially the pages of the journal literature of the day, bear excellent testimony to the merit and beauty of this method of securing bird pictures. Attention, however, has thus far been directed chiefly to obtaining illustrations of nests and eggs and captive birds, to the neglect of the more difficult but more interesting occupation of securing photographs of live birds in their wild state. Herein lies the chief fascination of this branch of photography, for good photographs from life of any of our birds, even the most common, are still novelties.

The successful bird photographer must possess a good camera, including a first-class lens, with at least an elementary knowledge of how to get the best results from it; some acquaintance with field and forest and their feathered inhabitants, and a fund of patience, perseverance, and determination to conquer that is absolutely inexhaustible. No matter how well equipped in other respects, this latter requisite cannot be dispensed with. As to the technique and many details of the art of photography, the writer is still too much of a novice to speak very intelligently. Suffice it to say, that the general principles governing other branches of photography are to be consulted here. One great difficulty to be encountered is that there is little opportunity to arrange the lighting or background of the object to be photographed, and as the latter is apt to be either green foliage or the dull ground, with the camera very near the object, the beginner will be much perplexed to determine the proper stop and the right time of exposure. With the usual appliances a wide open stop will be found necessary with the rapid exposure required, and this will detract in a disappointing manner from the beauty of the negative as a whole. But every determined student will try in his or her own way to lessen these defects, and will find in failure only increased incentive to discover better methods and better appliances. Cameras and lenses especially devised for this kind of work are promised in the near future. A rapid telephoto lens is a great desideratum, and there is reason to believe that in the near future such an one will be available. Those to be had at present increase the time of exposure too much to be generally useful in bird work. The writer has used a 4 × 5 long-focus 'Premo' with Bausch and Lomb Rapid Rectilinear lens (Zeiss-Anastigmat, Series II-A, 4-1/4 × 6-1/2), the focal length of the combination being about 6-1/4 inches. Many kinds of plates have been used, but any good rapid plate will do. For those who are willing to take the additional care necessary to handle them successfully, rapid isochromatic or orthochromatic plates are undoubtedly to be preferred, as they preserve quite clearly the color values.

A consideration of the actual field difficulties, rather than the more purely photographic problems to be encountered, is more within the scope of the present paper. To this end a rather detailed account is given of just how each of the following groups of photographs was secured, hoping that others better equipped, with a better knowledge of photography, and with more leisure, may be encouraged to go and do likewise and present us with the results.

One of the greatest of these field difficulties is that the camera is rarely focused upon the bird to be taken, but is either snapped at random or focused upon some spot to which the bird is expected to return. The latter, in the great majority of cases, is the nest; at other times a much-used perching-place or feeding-ground. Success depends, therefore, very largely upon the nature, disposition, and habits, especially nesting habits, of the particular bird being dealt with. Some birds are of a confiding, unsuspicious nature, and easily reconciled to quiet intrusion; while others are so timid and wary that hours of time have to be expended, and all sorts of devices resorted to, in order to get the coveted 'snap.' Of the risk of life and limb necessary to reach rocky cliff and lofty tree-dwelling species, the recital must come from such daring and fearless devotees of this art as the Kearton brothers of England, and others nearer home.

The nest being the lure usually employed to bring the bird within range of the camera, it will follow that the nesting season is the time of year when most of this work must be done. Thus, spring and early summer are the harvest time of the bird photographer, and as it happens that these, of all the seasons, are the most delightful in which to be afield, the bird-lover, with glass, camera, and note-book, can leave care behind and find contentment, rest, and peaceful profit in the glorious days of June, so happily styled the rarest of all that come.

[Illustration: CHICKADEE LEAVING NEST]

Leaving general considerations, let us first study a series of photographs that well illustrates what charming and dainty little pictures can sometimes be secured with most trifling effort. Success in this instance was easily attained because the little 'sitters' were not very unwilling and because the conditions under which they lived were more than usually favorable. The subject of these photographs, the little Black-capped Chickadee, or Titmouse,--_Parus atricapillus_, the scientists call him,--is familiarly known to almost every one who has given even casual attention to birds. Its generally common occurrence throughout the United States, cheery, happy disposition, and lively notes as the little band, for they usually travel in companies, goes roaming through woodland and copse, endears it to all. All through the long, dreary winter, with its short days and perpetual snow and ice, they are the same sprightly, contented little fellows, and refreshing it is to meet and visit with them at such times as they come 'chick-a-de-dee'-ing right into your very presence in their familiar, confiding way. Springtime finds them with a mellow, long-drawn love whistle of two notes and thoughts of home and home-like things. Soon, down by the lake or brook-side, or in some moist woodland glade, where birch and willow trunks long since dead and soft with age stand sheltered among the growing trees, the little Black-cap and his chosen mate pick out a cozy retreat. This, perhaps, is some deserted Woodpecker den, decayed knothole, or more often it is a burrow of their own making, and here they assume the delights and cares of wedded life. A snug, warm nest of rabbit's hair or fern down is quickly built, and in this softest of beds the five or six rosy white, finely speckled little eggs are laid. Before very many days, eight or ten at most, the old stump exhibits unmistakable signs of being animated within, and in a wonderfully short time the little nestlings are as large as their parents, and full, indeed, is this family domicile. Owing to the cleanly habits and care of the old birds, the dresses of the youngsters are cleaner and brighter than those of their hard-worked, food-carrying parents. It was just at this stage in their progress that the little family, whose portraits are here shown, was discovered one late June day, snugly ensconced within the crumbling trunk of a long since departed willow tree. With a bird-loving companion, Mr. Leslie O. Dart, the writer was drifting idly in a little boat through one of the many channels of the Mississippi river, which cut up into innumerable islands, the heavily wooded bottomland of eastern Houston county, Minnesota. Being in search of the nests of numerous Prothonotary Warblers, which were flashing hither and thither across the channel, we skirted the shore closely, tapping on all likely-looking stubs. Now the tapping brought to view a Downy Woodpecker, then a beautiful Golden Swamp Warbler; sometimes unexpectedly a great gray mouse scrambled out and plunged boldly into the water beneath; but this time the blow was followed by a subdued hum from within, and an inquiring, anxious parent Chickadee appeared suddenly on the scene, joined in a moment by a second, and we had the family complete. It was near noon, the sun was shining brightly, the hole was on the water side of the stub in the light, and we had no Chickadee pictures; so we camped at once and prepared to 'do' the situation. A little investigation showed the nest to be too high for setting up the camera satisfactorily, as the tripod legs sank deep in the mud and water. But our kit included a saw for just such an emergency, and sawing off the soft stub at the proper height, it was lowered gently until the hole came just on a level with the camera, placed horizontally and at a distance of about three feet. Propped with a forked stick, it rested quite securely on the soft bottom. This was better than tipping the camera and employing the 'swing back,' as the sun was nearly overhead. After focusing carefully on the opening in the stub, attaching to the camera fifty feet of small rubber tubing with large bulb, in place of the usual short tube and small bulb, setting carefully the trigger and other accessories of our harmless gun, and covering the whole camera with a hood of rough green cloth, the lens alone visible, we retreated to a convenient vantage point among the small willows close by. But a few minutes elapsed before the old birds were on the spot peering at us and the big green object from all sides. In an incredibly short space of time, considering the great liberties that had been taken with their habitation and door yard, they became resigned, and one of the birds, which we assumed to be the female, flew straight to the stub, and, with a last suspicious glance at the great glistening eye so near at hand, disappeared into the hole with a large brown worm in her bill. But that momentary delay was the looked-for opportunity, and all-sufficient; for with a quick squeeze of the bulb, click went the shutter, and in the twenty-fifth of a second the bird was ours; shot without so much as knowing it, without indeed the ruffling of a feather or the drawing of a drop of blood, and preserved life-like and true to nature for all time to come.

From this time on the birds came and went without hesitation, the only serious delays in our operations being due to the drifting clouds, which now and then obscured the sun and rendered the light too weak for the rapid exposures necessary. One of the birds, the one we took to be the female, was a little more courageous than the other, and it is her picture that appears oftenest. The timid one,--the male,--even went so far on several occasions as to himself devour the worm he had brought rather than trust himself at close quarters with the unknown enemy, although his mate was at the time coming and going industriously and keeping the little folk well supplied with the great larvæ. Surely personal traits and individuality are quite as well marked in the bird world as higher in the scale! After we had made several more exposures similar to the first, one of the best of which shows the bird, worm-laden as before, balanced on the edge of the hole and taking the usual last look at the camera, we turned our attention to catching her as she was coming out. This required quicker coöperation between eye and hand, as the exit was generally made with a dash; but the accompanying picture, with head just emerging, will show that we were fairly successful.

[Illustration: YOUNG CHICKADEES.]

Having concluded from all indications, chief among which was the immense number of huge caterpillars carried in to the young, that the latter must be fairly grown, we decided to expose the nest and complete our collection by securing the entire family. So carefully sawing away the front wall of the cavity with a keyhole saw carried for just such purposes, we gave the little fellows within their first view of the outside world. I fear they must have thought the manner of opening their second shell a rather rude one, and the outlook somewhat forbidding. They were pretty little youngsters, fully grown, with clean, jaunty coats, and a grown-up 'chickadee-dee,' just like the old folks. Though somewhat dazzled at first by the sudden flood of bright sunlight, they were, after a little coaxing, induced to sit out on the veranda that had been improvised for them; but, like youthful sitters generally, they were hard to pose, and after many exposures, we succeeded in getting no more than two of them at once. The prettiest one of all, showing two of the little fellows as they finally settled down contentedly in the warm sunshine, was obtained at the expense of much patient effort and a great deal of slushing back and forth in mud and water between boat and camera, and it was gratifying to find that one at least of the negatives did fair justice to the situation.

[Illustration: CHICKADEE FEEDING YOUNG]

The old ones came and went after the mutilation of their home, just as before, and, indeed, apparently found the new arrangement much more convenient than the old. In one of the photographs here presented, domestic affairs that had before been entirely concealed from view are fully revealed, and had not the plate been light-struck by one of the many aggravating accidents likely to occur in the out-door work of the beginner, the picture would have been the best of the series. The courageous parent is attending to her maternal duties under circumstances which must appear most appalling. The little fellow sitting so contentedly by has undoubtedly had his share of the huge juicy caterpillars, and patiently recognizes that it is not his turn.

(_To be concluded_)

From a Cabin Window

BY H. W. MENKE

With Photographs from Nature by the Author

[Illustration]

During the winter of 1897-8 I prospected for Jurassic fossils in Carbon and Albany counties, Wyoming. When cold weather and snow rendered field work impracticable as well as very disagreeable, I made permanent camp for the winter at Aurora, Wyoming,--a mere station on the Union Pacific R. R., an old abandoned section-house serving as my winter quarters.

This part of Wyoming,--at all times dreary and lonely,--is strikingly so during winter months. Then snow fills the ravines and lends a level, prairie-like aspect to the landscape. I doubt if there is to be found anywhere a more desolate country than this; at least such was my impression when the novelty of my surroundings had worn off.

[Illustration: HORNED LARKS AND SNOWFLAKES]

Among the various expedients to which I resorted for amusement, was photographing such birds as I could lure around the cabin. That I was not more successful in securing good negatives is due to the difficulties with which I had to contend. Chief of these were the fierce, wintry blasts sweeping over the plains and filling the air with snow and dust.

A single experiment taught me the inadvisability of leaving the camera exposed for any length of time to these conditions. I had been trying to get a large photograph of Horned Larks. The camera was placed on the ground and a handful of oats scattered before it, while I waited within the cabin for nearly two hours for an opportunity to pull the thread attached to the camera shutter. But the birds persistently avoided the pebble marking the focal plane, and clouds continually obscured the sun when I wished to make an exposure. At last the right moment came, I pulled the thread, and hurried out to get the result. That plate was never developed. Snow had clogged the shutter, and I found it had remained wide open after being sprung.

[Illustration: HORNED LARKS AND SNOWFLAKES]

By throwing oats on only one spot, and that close to the window, I soon gathered quite a flock of Horned Larks, who came regularly every morning to feed from the constantly replenished supply. Finally, after a week of gloomy, dark weather, a cloudless sky offered especially good chances for a photograph of my feathered friends. This time I placed the camera on the window-sill. Maneuvers attendant upon focusing and inserting a plate-holder, of course, frightened the birds away. They were back again within a few minutes, but an unexpected source of annoyance interfered. A freight train stopped opposite the scene of my operations and belched great billows of smoke between the sun and the birds. Also the shadow of the cabin was gradually encroaching on the feeding ground. I made a trial exposure, however, and obtained a very good negative. But a shadow in the foreground and a wagon tongue in the rear, did not add to the pictorial effect of the group.

After much pulling and prying, I pushed the objectionable wagon out of the drifts, and put off further photographing until the next morning. The morning came as bright and sunny as I desired. My feathered subjects were early in the open air studio, and required no conventional admonition to 'look pleasant.' In fact, they were almost too lively for the camera shutter. The negative obtained proved very good, and well repaid me for all trouble and annoyance.

[Illustration: YELLOW-HEADED BLACKBIRDS]

A few Yellow-headed Blackbirds were attracted by the food supply I furnished, and I made several negatives of them. The Yellow-heads were more wary than the Horned Larks, and flew away at the slightest disturbance. Only a few at a time gathered beneath the window, while the others perched on fence-posts at a safe distance and kept watch.