. [Articles about birds from National geographic magazine]. Birds. HUNTING BIRDS WITH A CAMERA 189. A MEXICAN GROUND DOVU DEl'EXDIXG HER HOME While a Dove is a shy and gentle bird, here is a case where the mother raised her wings and slapped the intruding finger whenever it came near her home. Yellow-head lit on the tules just a few feet ahead. He began like the peeping of a young Duck, but, as his tail spread and his throat swelled, his song grew more violent, till it ended with a contortion like the complaint of an old sitting hen when she is disturbed. Some one has given this human interpre
. [Articles about birds from National geographic magazine]. Birds. HUNTING BIRDS WITH A CAMERA 189. A MEXICAN GROUND DOVU DEl'EXDIXG HER HOME While a Dove is a shy and gentle bird, here is a case where the mother raised her wings and slapped the intruding finger whenever it came near her home. Yellow-head lit on the tules just a few feet ahead. He began like the peeping of a young Duck, but, as his tail spread and his throat swelled, his song grew more violent, till it ended with a contortion like the complaint of an old sitting hen when she is disturbed. Some one has given this human interpretation to the song, which should be drawled out slowly: "Pop! goes the ; As I edged silently along close to the reeds, I came to a turtle lying asleep on a water-soaked log. He didn't see me till I touched him on the back ; then he awoke with a start and slid into the water. Once or twice I saw a snake glide away among the tules. All the time I had been coming nearer to a place where a Bittern was pumping. He was a ventriloquist, for when I thought he was 20 feet away, I still sneaked 50 feet nearer. "Punk-a-lunk! Punk-a-lunk !" he said, but this pumping was only the end of the call. The be- ginning was a "blub, blul)," like water bubbling down into a big empty cask. As I pulled inyself along by the over- hanging tules, suddenly I was face to face with the Bittern, and up he flapped with a frightened "; At the next bend in the river I waded out through two feet of water to a small grassy island in the midst of the swamp. I was sure I would find Ducks' nests in a place like this, but a Duck's nest is not easy to find. I had been wandering around for some little time, wondering why I could not find a nest, when suddenly a female Mallard flushed from between my feet. I had straddled a nest of 10 eggs before the mother flapped off lamely through the grass. I was surprised at the boldness with which she froze to the nest. It is a
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