Of course, many excellent pictures and much useful information may be obtained amongst rocks without the assistance of climbing-ropes.

We have succeeded in getting at and photographing the eyries and eggs of the golden eagle and the common buzzard \vithout as much as a bit of string, and have also visited the wind-swept

PHOTOGRAPHING A SHAG.

of the fulmar petrel in St. Kilda with-egg-ledges out any help whatever. But here, again, it is a matter of a cool head and a sure foot, and in the absence of either or both it would be madness to make the attempt. The picture on the preceding page shows my brother at work on a shelf in a Shetland cliff, whither we climbed by taking advantage of ledges. He is just in the act of making a study of a shag which had left her nest in a sheltered corner upon his approach, and walked to the edge of the ledge ready to fling herself into space and fly away out to sea upon the slightest alarm. A Yorkshire naturalist friend of ours, who accompanied us that day, was so highly amused at seeing my brother creep carefully along the guano-streaming shelf of rock, with his camera in front of him and his head well hidden beneath the focussing- cloth, all the while trying to arrest the bird's attention by imitating its own peculiar form of language, that he suggested photographing the photographer at work, and as we had a spare camera he tried his hand, with the result already mentioned. Some idea may be gathered of how near a bird it is possible to get by careful stalking when it is mentioned that the picture of the shag in the act of stretching herself was made a moment after the one of the photographer, and has in no way been enlarged. One of its chief beauties is that it represents exactly the exercise indulged in

by a cramped bird just after leaving a nest full of hard-sat eggs. The secret of getting close to birds in such situations without alarming them is to approach very, very slowly, with the head quite hidden under the focussing-cloth, and to be careful not to make a slip or stumble, an occurrence which may end disastrously in more than one sense of the term. Of course, when I say the photographer must keep his head quite hidden under his focussing-cloth, I do not mean to convey that he must not leave sufficient space to peep past the side or top of his camera in order to make observations of the behaviour of the creature he is stalking, else he would not be able to see when it became nervously uneasy and was preparing to depart. When a bird, for instance, begins to work its neck up and down, and shuffle its feet as it stands on the edge of a rock, it is thinking about taking flight, and the photographer should remain quite still until it has become reassured. I mentioned just now the fact of my brother engaging the attention and reassuring a shag by mimicking its notes. Half an hour afterwards the cries of a bird of the same species sounded so like those of a human being in distress, that they gave me one of the worst frights I ever endured.

The rock we were on formed a sort of abrupt promontory, and had a ledge corresponding to the one from which the shag was photographed on the

opposite side, but running right round to the front of the bold mass. This ledge had a sharp slope downwards, and was rendered additionally dangerous in one place by part of the crag above it jutting out in such a way as to make the path very narrow. Upon walking along it and round to the front I discovered a number of common guillemots sitting on a ledge, and at once went back to apprise the photographer, who was re-charging his dark slides with plates. He at once started round with his camera, and I began to examine some nests in a crevice which ran almost through the promontory. All at once I heard such cries of distress as perfectly terrified me. I was sure that my brother had slipped off the ledge and lay badly mangled on the rough rocks below, and rushed round in a great state of alarm to find him standing with a shag, which he had caught on her nest, in his hand. Upon my approach the affrighted creature snapped at my left hand like a dog, and cut the back of it with her sharp-edged upper mandible so deeply that the blood trickled off my finger-tips, yet I was too much relieved to feel angry with her. In climbing about rocks without ropes great care should always be taken where water oozes out and runs across a ledge, because it is sure to make it slippery. On no account is it wise to attempt to show off one's agility on cliffs. I knew a young fellow who did this, with the result that when he

ASCENDING A THICK THEE.

came to a ledge that was moist and slimy he fell over and was drowned. What was still more sad, he caused the death of two other men who bravely attempted to rescue him. We next come to the consideration of studying and photographing birds' nests, squirrels' dreys, and similar objects in trees and high hedges. It is not so arduous a business as cliff-work, nor so dangerous, yet it requires a fair amount of physical strength, level-headedness, and care, to carry out

successfully. In the case of trees that are too thick in the trunk to be clasped and swarmed in the ordinary way my brother puts on a pair of climbing-irons, and ascends with his camera slung upon his back, as shown on the previous page. He is, however, not very partial to these aids, and dispenses with them whenever he can, and I remember an amusing accident which once befell us in consequence.

A gentleman living near us expressed a great desire to go out and watch us photograph the nest and eggs of a carrion crow. Our photographer tried several times in vain to swarm the giant trunk of a tree in which a member of the species had built, and then conceived the notion of getting amongst its branches by throwing the end of a rope over the lowest one, and putting one foot into a loop, allowing our spectator and myself to haul him up. We borrowed a good strong rope from an adjoining farmhouse, made a big loop at

PHOTOGRAPHING IN CLIFFS, ETC.

one end of it, flung it over a branch, and then began to hoist the photographer, minus his camera. The work was so difficult,, and our progress so poor, that my brother determined to help us in truly Hibernian style. He seized our portion of the rope, and giving it a vigorous tug, after we had actually succeeded in raising him six or seven feet oft the ground, turned himself completely upside down. His foot slipped out of the loop, and he came down squarely on his back, and knocked every breath of wind out of his body; I went down like a ninepin on the top of our friend, and drove him and a spick-and-span suittweed ,,deep,. into a sea "AMONG THE SLENDEK of mud and dirt produced BRANCHES." by innumerable bullocks' hoofs trampling to and fro through a gateway close by.

In examining the nests of such birds as build amongst the slender topmost branches of tall trees, whither it would be dangerous to attempt to climb,

a bit of looking-glass fixed to a long stick or fishing-rod, and easily moved to any angle, will reveal their contents. Professional naturalists supply rods and glasses already fitted, but we generally use a lady's small dressing-mirror with a folding handle, by which we lash it to a long stick cut from a hedge. It is often better, when about to make a photographic study of some object situated in a high tree plentifully supplied with branches, to ascend without the camera and haul it up afterwards by means of a rope. In many cases the legs of the tripod may be lashed to convenient branches close to the nest to be photographed, but in some this is impossible on account of their extreme slenderness. In cases of this kind we hoist a ladder up and lash it in a position as nearly perpendicular as possible, in order to reduce the leverage produced by the photographer's weight to a minimum, and, ascending above it, fix the camera as seen in the illustration on page 41. Of course this is going to a lot of trouble, but if it is desired to make a picture of, say, a carrion crow's nest and eggs in situ, it is necessary to get well above them, as the structure is very deep, the bird wisely recog-nising that it must be so in order to prevent her treasures from falling out when the whole tree is being violently swayed to and fro by a spring gale.

Nests situated in high hedges are oiten very

troublesome to photograph on account of their is to cutelevation. A way out of the difficulty three stout sticks of the required length, and,

COOT S NEST.

lashing one to each leg of the tripod, virtually place the apparatus on stilts. The focussing, insertion of dark slides, and exposure of plates, may be managed from a companion's shoulders. When near a farmyard a tumbril may often be borrowed from which

to take photographs in tall hedges. We have made many pictures in both ways, and though the trouble has been sometimes considerable, the results have more than repaid us. Photographing from boats, either moored or in motion, is a somewhat difficult matter; however, it can be managed, and with a fair degree of success too, if a little care and patience be exercised. We have succeeded in photographing a Reed-warbler's nest from a rowing-boat held in position by an oar only on the River Cam, and a dabchick's nest on a small lough in the South of Ireland by lashing a long pole to each leg of the tripod, and lowering the whole carefully over the side of a boat.

The study of the coot's nest on the previous page was made amongst the reeds of a Norfolk Broad by seizing a number of them on each side of the boat, and thus holding it in position. Even then the exposure had of necessity to be a short one, on account of the liability of such an unstable article as a boat in water to answer at once the slightest movement of any of its occupants. We sometimes use our miniature camera or view-finder with good effect whilst on the water. The vignette of a fishing-smack under sail at the back of the half-title to this book was taken by its aid from a rowing-boat being pulled ri^ht across her bows. The miniature camera is, of course, an absolute necessity in making pictures of sea-birds at home

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