There is one dodge which will shorten the time you have to wait, if you can manage it. Take a friend with you as far as your hiding-place, and when you are settled down let him go right away about his own business. The birds will watch him safely off the premises, forget all about you, and carry on as if they had the whole place to themselves. They seem to have no head for mathematics, and think 2–1 = 0. Perhaps two or more assistants going away would work better, but I have never tried it.
You will find field-glasses most useful at this game, when for any reason you can’t get near the spot, as well as for finding out what sort of bird you have seen at any time, without going so near as to frighten it. If you see a bird with building material in her mouth before she sees you (as you very often will with glasses) you ought not to have long to wait before you have her secret. Then it is best to mark the spot carefully, but not to go near it till you have given her time to lay her eggs. Many birds are very touchy at such times, and will leave a half-finished nest if you so much as look at it.
When the birds are sitting, you may be able to steal up unobserved within sight of their haunt, when it should be easy to find the nest if you can see both birds; but if only one is on view the other is most likely on the nest, and you had better waste no more time, but walk boldly about the place till you either find the nest or see the other bird about. Then you can retire to a respectful distance and start on your game of patience.
FIG. 3—CHAFFINCH
FIG. 4—LINNET
You have to be very keen to play this game in the wet; but don’t forget that there is nothing like rain for bringing birds back to their nests in a hurry, and you can often be taking shelter from a heavy shower and doing a bit of detective work at the same time.
$ 5. CLIMBING.
Trees.—Tree-climbing is not dangerous, and does not tax your nerve like rock-climbing, so that with practice any boy can become a respectable climber; but you should not try a really high tree in a strong wind. If you do you will soon find out why.
Before you start to climb a difficult tree, have a good look at it and choose the best way to get up. Then as you go up take notice of how you get round the awkward corners, or you may get stuck on the way down. I have more than once had to rescue people from that predicament.
Branches are of two kinds, live and rotten (all dead branches count as rotten); and while almost any live branch, however small, will bear your weight if you put your foot right where it joins the trunk, you should never trust the other sort. The best way to do with them is to get a good hold with both hands above, and kick them hard. If they break off there is no fear of your using them on the way down (when you can’t always see where your feet are going), and if they stand kicking they are pretty sound, though not to be trusted with your whole weight. In fact wherever you are you should always have one good hand-hold in case anything gives way; and up amongst the top branches keep one arm round the main one, especially when you are transferring eggs from nest to box.
In a rookery the branches are never too thin to bear your weight, or a man’s for that matter, for the Rooks know just as much about rotten branches as we do, and more. So you never need be afraid to go to any Rook’s nest, if your head will stand it; but the straighter up the branch goes, the better, as if your foot slips you don’t slip out into space.
Swarming up a bare trunk uses muscles that don’t often come into play, but anyone can do it with practice. The first Sparrow-hawk’s nest I ever found was in a Scots fir with no branches for about 30 feet, and thicker than any I had tackled before; but the bark was good, and I managed to get up 10 feet or so before I had to give in. I wanted that nest, so I tried the next day and the next, in fact I probably had seven or eight goes at the tree, and each time I got a foot or two higher, until at last I managed to reach the first branch, and the nest. Even then there were no eggs in it, and several more visits were needed before I got my egg; but I never had much trouble in shinning up after that first time.
Probably the most annoying tree to climb is a tall larch, beloved of Magpies, covered with little dead branches, none of which will bear you, and all of which have to be broken off as you go up. You begin by breaking off as many as you can reach with your stick, and then climb as far as you can, stripping the tree as you go. Next you slide down again (slowly) and lie on your back awhile, surveying your handiwork. When you feel better, up you go again and break off some more. This time you ought to reach the first sound branch, but if you feel you are losing the grip with your legs, come down and repeat. I once grasped that first sound branch just as my knees refused to grip any longer, and it wasn’t so sound as it looked. I never came down a tree quicker, and with all those little broken stumps it wasn’t only my trousers that were torn to ribbons.
I once got to a Magpie’s nest in a tree like that by climbing a tall thin spruce that was conveniently near and getting a good swing on till I was able to catch hold of the other tree and step across. This trick is not hard, but needs some judgment in letting go of the first tree. That reminds one of a Carrion Crow’s nest in a pollard willow down in the Fens. The tree was very old and hollow all the way up, but round the crown were branches as big as young trees. Most of these came out at the side and turned straight up, and would not have borne a man for a minute, and the nest was in one of them; so although there was a nice soft river to fall on I felt like giving it up, till I spotted one slim branch that grew straight up from its base and stood well above the nest. I went up that one and persuaded it to bend the right way till I could get my hand into the nest. So you see there are sometimes other ways of getting to a nest than the first that strikes you.
I have said nothing about climbing irons because I don’t think much of them. I may have been unfortunate in those I have tried, but they certainly were much better for telegraph poles than for trees with bark on, not to mention a nasty wound in the leg I gave myself with one of them. Also I don’t think they are very safe on a really big tree, and you should be able to manage a moderate one without them.
Rocks and Ruins.—Rocks and ruins are a very different proposition from trees, and a fair number of grown-up men break their necks every year rock-climbing. So my advice to boys is “let them alone.” But birds build their nests in them, and where the nests are boys are sure to go, so I had better give a few hints on how to take care of yourselves.
First of all study the climb before you start, just as you do with a difficult tree; then when you have started, come back again rather than go round a corner or across a gap if there is any doubt about getting back the way you came. And for