Page:The peregrine falcon at the eyrie (IA cu31924084757206).pdf/25

 Rh and so obtain entrance to bird sanctuaries whose gates are afterwards found closed by the bird-photographer. On one occasion an individual at Ravenglass aroused the suspicions of the watcher owing to the number of nests opposite which he erected his camera, which, when forcibly examined, proved to be full of little drawers lined with cotton-wool, an accessory not listed by the leading camera-makers. That we sometimes manage to turn the tables is, I think, shown by the following incident: A friend of mine was watching some Peregrines in the wilds of Northumberland. One day the landlord of the little inn at which he stayed told him that two gentlemen had arrived from London who were egg-collectors. At my friend's request no mention was made to them of his real occupation, but they were casually told that he knew more about the birds of the district than anyone else. The collectors soon introduced themselves and gladly accepted his guidance. Arrived at the eyrie, he advised them to wait a few days, as this Falcon always laid four eggs, but would probably desert if they took the one egg they found lying there. During the interval he, turned egg-collector, visiting many of the outlying farms, and then secretly resorted to the kitchen, where he boiled a number of small hens' eggs of the desired shape in a saucepan, with sliced onions. As a result, he picked out four most beautifully blotched and browned eggs, and at dawn substituted them for the Peregrines' eggs. He then at breakfast told the collectors of his early stroll, and opined they need wait no longer. They started off immediately in order to be able to catch the midday mail, and having seen them safely off to London on their return, he replaced the real eggs in the eyrie and had the satisfaction of learning later that the Peregrines brought off four young that year. He has often wondered what the collectors said when they tried to blow their eggs.

I had noticed in 1910 that the Peregrines did not like the flapping of the canvas of the tent, so during the winter I evolved a portable hiding-shed in sections, made out of three-ply, and had the good fortune to interest a patient of mine, Mr. J. H. Bateman, who was making a protracted convalescence, and he made me the shed to my design. But nevertheless, 1911 turned out badly. I had intended starting a week earlier, but I was unable to leave, and