The majority of the birds of prey nest early in the spring. One of the common species of North America is the red-shouldered hawk, Buteo lineatus lineatus, which builds its homes from the Atlantic to the Great Plains, and from Florida to Maine. The northern breeding birds arrive in March when the woods are brown and bare of vegetation. Soon after, they begin to work on their abodes, and although they do not use the same site with the regularity of eagles, it is not uncommon for a pair of red-shouldered hawks to use the same crotch for several successive years. The nests are rather bulky platforms of sticks and twigs, lined with the bark of trees.

It was a cold day in March that we were plodding through the forest preserves of Cook County, Illinois, in the hope of seeing a few new arrivals from the south. As we climbed a steep wooded knoll, a dark colored bird flushed from a nest high in the branches of an ash, and winging among the gray trees, disappeared in the distance. We had been making motion films for the Chicago Academy of Sciences and were desirous of adding a bird of prey to our series. Here was a wonderful opportunity.

On April 4 we visited the site and attempted to erect a platform in the neighboring tree, but the long climb without branches was too much for our unused muscles. We did inspect the home, however, and found three eggs in the cuplike depression of the barklined platform. Two days later we returned, armed with climbing irons and material with which to build a blind. A little platform was built and a small piece of canvas hung in place, so the old bird would have an opportunity to get accustomed to it before the rest of the shelter was completed. The camera lens was ten and one half feet from the center of the nest!

We completed the blind and made motion films showing the barren woods of early April, and from the nesting tree I made studies of four beautifully marked, brown-splotched eggs. I entered the blind at 7:20 a. m. There was scarcely a sound to be heard. In the distance I could occasionally hear the high-pitched challenge of one of the hawks, but the forest itself was strangely devoid of life. Anxiously I awaited the return of the hawk, for I was afraid the eggs would become chilled.

The camera was pointed at the nest, and I watched through slits in the canvas as the hawk eyed the blind for a moment, and then, apparently oblivious to the noise of the machine, settled upon the eggs. Motion pictures are worthless without motion, so, after taking the footage desired, I waved my hand from the blind and flushed the bird. He returned within a few minutes and alighted at the rear of the nest, this time all fluffed up like a brooding hen.