We next made our way to a tammerac swamp, and on the edge we went a little out of our way to look at an old crow’s nest that we knew of, for mere curiosity sake. In the center of the nest two prongs poked out and we thought they were two sticks sticking up; but, to be sure, my friend kicked on the tree, and to my great joy the two prongs moved. At this my friend began to climb the tree, and when about half way up, a large yellowish-brown bird flew sluggishly off the nest, and I could see it was an owl, but what kind I was uncertain. When he reached the nest and shouted down there were 5 eggs in it, I was so excited that I went up and helped him down with them, although there was no need of it. They were of a clear white, and almost globular in form, and measured about 1.60 x 1.40 inches. We imagined them to be all kinds of owls, and were very anxious to find out what they were.
We hunted around now until noon and then sat down by a spring and ate our dinner, which we had brought with us. After a little “lounge” in the sun after our meal, we started out again, and by 3 o’clock p. m., had found nothing but last year’s nests. About 3:30 we came to another tammerac swamp, and in the center there was an old marsh hawk’s nest I was acquainted with, and we made for it, thinking there might be an owl’s nest in it, and you may imagine my delight at seeing the same kind of horns sticking up in the center. This nest was only about 7 feet from the ground, and as soon as I kicked the tree the owl flew off and lit on a limb close by, and I identified her as being a long-eared owl. I regretted that I did not have my gun with me, or I would have had her this day all mounted. I climbed the tree, and in the nest found four more eggs just like those in the first nest, and now our minds were lightened.
As it was getting time to be going home, we started, and on arriving, blew our eggs and found them to be fresh; and one of the sets now glow in the collection of the editor of this paper.
I have found several sets besides this, and know of others being found around here, and they invariably occupy other birds’ nests.
Geo. G. Cantwell,
Minneapolis, Minn.
The Road-runner; Chaparral Cock.
(GEOCOCCYX CALIFORNIANUS).
For the Sunny South Oologist:
This species (which may be described as a rather long tail with a small bird on the “for’ard” end of it) occurs rarely in this locality. Ornithologists generally give the number of eggs in a set as “6 to 9.” I had previously taken several sets, containing from two to four eggs; and finding a nest with two eggs on May 8th, 1885, I concluded to give the bird a chance to fill out the set. The nest was placed in the bushy top of a small black-jack oak, about twelve feet from the ground. It was a bulky structure 16 inches in diameter, 5 inches in depth, and nearly flat on the top—not more than an inch deep, built of large sticks, twigs, and weeds in the lining. I visited the nest on the 9th and 10th, and although the bird was “tu hum” every time, the set had not increased any in number. During the 11th, 12th and 13th, three more eggs were added to the set, making five in all. I waited until the 19th, when, as no more eggs were laid, I took the nest, shooting the female. On dissection I found that within the next two or three days two more eggs would have been added to the set. Incubation was about one-half advanced in two of the eggs. The question is, can I call this a full set? The female when flushed from the nest would fly to the ground, and all to be seen of her afterwards was a streak. They are famous runners, and it takes a fast “pony” to overtake them.