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Bulletin of the Cooper Ornithological Club.

sapling, that fortunately was growing close beside the rock, and soon poked him off with a dry limb. By the time I had got down again he was across the canyon and hopping up the rocks on the opposite side, using both his wings and his feet. I started up after him and reached up and caught him by one leg, just as he was about to make another jump. He reached down with his beak for my hand, but I was fortunate enough to get hold of his neck with my other hand before he caught me. He struggled and flapped his wings and I had a hard time of it for a few minutes, but at last I managed to tie his feet with my handkerchief. I then tore the braid off the brim of my hat and tied his beak securely, getting two or three awful pinches before I finished. I then slung him over my shoulder, holding him by the feet, and started to climb up the canyon, leaving the dead bird and my rifle to take care of themselves. At last I got up over the falls, getting some hard tumbles meanwhile. Every time I had a particularly hard stretch to climb he would spread his wings and try to fly and would pull me over and down I would go to the bottom, and not as comfortably as I would have liked. However, I at last got him to camp and put him in an old chicken house, which was on the place. That afternoon one of the boys and I went back and brought the rifle and dead Vulture to camp.

The next afternoon I got him to eat some raw venison by putting a small piece on the end of a sharp stick. At first he would pick at it; but after a while he got tired and would only open his mouth and hiss. I then forced a piece of paper in his throat and he had to swallow it to keep-from choking. After a little he began to understand that it was good to eat and then there was no further trouble about his eating. Inside of three days he would eat out of my fingers without offering to peck at me. I had more trouble in teaching him to drink but finally managed to teach him that also. He measured just eight feet across the wings when I procured him, and was probably about five months old. I captured him on the 25th day of August, 1898. He is growing right along, and seems to be in perfect health, and gives promise of becoming a very fine pet.

Nesting of the Wilson's Snipe in Utah

ACCORDING to most, if not all the authorities, this species nests in the north, but I have found them breeding in this locality in abundance and have taken their eggs for several years. They arrive early in April, as soon as the snow is off the shallow ponds and low lands, and their whistle becomes a familiar sound both during the day and in the evening. Nest building commences soon after they arrive and nests have been found from April 29 to as late as July 11.

The nests are invariably placed within a few inches of the water, either stagnant, or by the side of irrigating ditches or waste streams. The nest is composed of dry wire grass loosely laid into a shallow platform, though occasionally raised two or three inches above the surface of the ground. Occasionally they select for a site the top of a hummock, but usually the nest is flat on the ground and extremely difficult to find as the eggs and nest have the general appearance of the surrounding dead grass and rushes.

The eggs exhibit the greatest possible variation in markings and colors, a well selected series showing about the handsomest variation of any I have seen, unless it be those of the Sharp-shinned Hawk. Typical specimens are of a dull yellow background, shaded and overlaid with bold heavy blackish and brown markings. These markings are usually long in proportion to their width and form a "corkscrew" appearance on the shell, extending from the pointed end of the egg in an oblique right direction, and seldom straight toward the larger end. In some specimens the ground color is a bright yellowish shade in which case the markings are usually very bold and distinct; in others the markings are highly colored running through all the shades from rich sienna to deep brown and blackish. The bird is never shot here for game and breeds without molestation.H. C. Johnson, American Fork, Utah, Jan. 27, '99.