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 Nov., i9o7 THE PRAIRIE FALCONS OF SADDLE-BACK BUTTE I83 both birds winged away. In moments incredibly brief they had disappeared, nor did they return. It mattered not. My work was done. What good is a rope, in- tended for twelve-foot work, when the twelve feet are lengthened into fifty? But in May, 1906, I was fore-armed. There was 500 feet of inch-and- a-quarter rope, several hundred feet of smaller, and a "tackle" warranted to hold up a dead weight of 500 pounds, and to stop, without slightest danger, at any de- sired point. What an ideal arrangement for photography n s1u,  A helper?- yes, of course. Masonic request, sent out at random, brought cordial reply. "Harry H. is just the man you want." Long before I reached the base of saddle-back the male Falcon had sensed me. Instantly he swept down the heights in a long, incredibly swift sxveep, rising at end of his tilt, in one slow curve. The tremulous warning cry, now so well-known, rang out again and again. This entire feint was twice or thrice repeated; and then the slender creature went his swift way to an apparently favored perching crag, on the north side of the butte. Then did the unexpected happen. Out into the sun- light, with strong, excited cries, came the sitting female falcon, from a huge pot-hole  '  not ten feet below the very  ' highest crest of Saddle-back. Down she swept, far past the 4 - butte~bottom, and almost to the level of the deep gorge below. Rising again she seated herself beside her mate. Thru the field glass I watched ' , ' ' them. Erect sat he, without apparent care. Not so, she: .    with body low-crouched and '  head hither-turned, she seemed the incarnation of maternal anxiety and vigilance. Shortly she came hurtling back to the ledges uear the EGGS OF THE PRAIRIE FALCON IN SIMULATED SITE nest. The shadow of a hawk- ing Say Phoebe flitted across her body, and she quickly ducked her head. A Sparrow Hawk, whose eggs lay safe hidden in a west-end cranny, made a swift pass at her, but she heeded not the playful challenge. To the photographer the hours of early light are precious. Soon were camera and man both perched upon the steep crags; the camera swathed to a projecting node; the man hanging on by sheer tenacity. No fairer scene ever soothed a fevered sense. Away to the east lay a most beautiful valley. Trees grew there, in cultivated masses. Broad swards, rich of green, stood out in strong contrast with the already blanching growths of the open ranges. Scattered everywhere, xvere red-roofed barracks and the cottages of the garrison. It was the Fort. The tackle was a dismal failure. It just tangled up, balked. Then we gave up the situ-photography, and went after eggs. An hour of work gave us the ropes untangled, ready for use. Then, while I was preparing a steadying rope for Harry to use in crossing the saddle-hollow, a slight sound made me look upward; and,