Identification.—Positive and unmistakable identification of the builder and occupant of a nest is quite as imperative on the collector as the gathering of the nest and eggs themselves. There must be no guess-work on this point, for eggs without a pedigree are often valueless. If an oological expert is within reach—one who can tell to a certainty the species of doubtful eggs, or if the eggs themselves are so characteristic and unique in their shape, size, and markings as to render their certain identification an easy matter, then is it safe to take home a "find" without finding the owner.

It is only the fledgling oologist who needs to be told that in all cases of doubt regarding the identity (i.e., the exact species) of a nest-builder, the only proper course is to collect the bird as well as the nest and eggs. This may often involve long watching, but it relieves the result from all uncertainty. No collector should think of going afield in quest of nests and eggs without taking his gun along. In South America, the only way in which I could get possession of the wonderful pensile nest of the crested cacique was by cutting off the limb to which it hung, with a rifle bullet.

In all timbered regions the collector must have a pair of good climbing-irons, such as telegraph linemen use, to enable him to climb with ease the nest-bearing trees that would otherwise defy him. It was before the days of climbing-irons that aspiring Sir Walter Raleigh wrote for the fair eyes of Queen Elizabeth,

to which his august mistress promptly responded with a piece of wisdom which every young oologist will do well to paste in his hat:

Very good and serviceable climbing-irons can be obtained of Mr. Frank B. Webster, 409 Washington Street, Boston, for $3.50 per pair. Mr. Webster also keeps, at his very complete naturalist's supply depot, nearly every requisite that an oologist or taxidermist requires, except one thing that is indispensable in hunting and lofty tree-climbing,—nerve. Every collector or taxidermist should send Mr. Webster ten cents for a copy of his illustrated catalogue, which of itself is probably the finest of its kind ever issued, and in which all naturalist's and oologist's supplies are pictured, described, and priced. The following are the principal articles needed to make up a proper outfit for an egg collector, and Mr. Webster's prices thereon:

Collecting Nests.—Our boys pay too much attention to collecting eggs, and not half enough to nests. To the average observer who takes an interest in perusing the pages of Nature's story-book, a fine collection of bird's nests is a joy forever. It is ever ready to unfold chapter after chapter of bird lore, tales of wonderful intelligence and divine ingenuity in adapting means to ends, and stories galore of difficulties surmounted by the cunningest little architects in the world. Notice, if you please, the bewildering variety of materials employed in the construction of these bird-dwellings, great and small. Why, even the human architects of our own time are completely surpassed by the Baltimore oriole, the marsh wren, and the humming-bird.

There is food for thought and cause for admiration in a really good collection of bird's nests. To me there is much more of interest in any nest than in the eggs it contains. The latter is a plain and simple product of nature, to which the bird is merely an interested party to circumstances beyond its own control. The former is an exhibit of the instinct, intelligence, reasoning powers, industry, and mechanical and artistic skill of a living creature of a high order. The nest is what the bird makes it, and it often tells quite a story. Boys, let us give eggs and skins a rest, and make a fine collection of nests, in situ, as the rockologists say. We can do this after the nestlings have flown, if you like, without stealing any eggs or shedding any innocent blood. After the young have tumbled out, the nest is a back number, and becomes your lawful prey. Take it, and enjoy it, without remorse over blood that you haven't shed.

The most interesting and valuable nests are those that are collected in situ, or, in other words, in the particular crotch, or bunch of grass, or bush in which the bird placed it. Anything that will show just where a nest was placed by its builder adds immensely to its interest, and increases its scientific value. The accompanying illustration of such a nest in Captain Bendire's collection (Fig. 21), may be taken as an example of how nests of a certain class can be collected and displayed. The section of the sapling was sawn squarely off a few inches below the nest, and screwed (from below) upon a highly polished ebonized pedestal. In drawing this specimen the label was removed in order that no portion of the principal object should be concealed, but Captain Bendire's system of labelling is fully shown in another figure.

The possibilities in collecting and displaying nests in situ are almost endless. Indeed, so far as I have observed, this is a new and very attractive field for the collector, for although I have visited a great many large museums, and in both the New and the Old World have seen many ornithological collections, I have never yet seen a collection of birds' nests which represented a tithe of the possibilities in that direction. Every oologist should have in his library a copy of Rev. J.G. Wood's charming book, "Homes without Hands," which portrays many of the wonders of bird architecture.

In collecting nests one must go prepared to saw off branches, to cut sections of grassy earth, to gather up big tufts of grass, and transport all these to some safe destination. Very often it will be necessary to protect a nest by filling its cavity with some soft material, and then with fine thread or wire to wrap it securely to the limb on which it is placed. Or again, it may be necessary to remove a nest temporarily from its resting place, wrap it thoroughly, and transport it separately to the museum, to be put in its place later on.

Most naked nests, i.e., those that have been plucked from their resting-place, require to be wrapped to keep them from gradually falling to pieces. This may be done with fine thread of the same color as the outside materials of the nest, or, what Captain Bendire uses and recommends as being better, the finest kind of wire which, in large cities, can be bought, neatly made up on spools, at five to ten cents a spool. The wire or thread is wound on quite as one would wind thread on a ball, except that the wire must never be allowed to cross the cavity of the nest, which would at once make it conspicuous. Put on only enough winding to hold the nest well together, and distribute it so that the wire will not be noticed when the nest is placed on exhibition.

For the display of naked nests, Captain Bendire uses a very simple but ingenious little standard made of four wires twisted together so as to form an upright stem, a horizontal platform of the right size, with four perpendicular standards to receive and hold the nest. These standards are easily bent to conform to the shape of the nest, and if the upper ends project above the nest they are snipped off with a pair of cutting pliers. The illustration on page 93 (Fig. 22) shows the exact character of the wire standard, and Fig. 23 shows it in use, supporting a naked nest. Captain Bendire's method of labelling his nests is also shown in full. It is to be noted that the locality of the specimen exhibited, and the name of the collector, appears in full upon the label—two features which should never be omitted on a specimen that is of sufficient value to occupy a place in a museum. Nevertheless, by less careful curators both these statements are frequently omitted from labels.

Collecting Eggs.—In connection with a collection of nests, each nest holding its own lawful and original contents, a good collection of birds' eggs possesses much interest and beauty.

In collecting and preserving eggs, the most difficult feature of all is to remove the embryos successfully. In the days when I diligently collected eggs in many lands, it seemed to me that out of every dozen eggs I gathered, about thirteen contained from one to two embryos each! But there are ways in which this difficulty can be successfully overcome.

The full set of eggs laid by a bird for one brood is called a "clutch," and in collecting it is of scientific importance that whole sets should be collected and always kept separate, and the number of eggs in each set taken should be recorded.

Eggs are always blown through a small, round hole in the middle of one side, preferably in each instance on the poorest side of the egg, if it has one. Of course, the smaller the egg, the smaller the drill must be, and the greater the care in handling. It is often a good plan to pierce the shell with a needle in order to furnish the drill a point of attack. If an egg is cracked, or happens to be of such value that it must be saved at all hazards, reinforce it by pasting narrow strips of goldbeater's skin or court-plaster across the line of fracture.

Having drilled the hole, insert the end of a small wire, having a small portion of the end bent at a right angle, and if the embryo has not begun to develop, or happens to be quite small and soft, twirl the wire rapidly between your thumb and finger, to thoroughly break up the contents of the egg. Having accomplished this, insert the tip of your blow-pipe (the best in the world consists of a tube of glass bent at a right angle and terminating in a fine point, with the large end set in the end of a rubber bulb, which saves the mouth and lungs all trouble) and with gentle and gradual pressure blow in air. Hold the egg with the hole downward, of course, so that the contents will run out freely. Go slowly and carefully, even coaxingly, for too great pressure will burst any ordinary egg in two parts very neatly. If the embryo is small and disposed to be accommodating, help it out by inserting the point of your smallest scissors, snipping it to pieces, and then drawing out the parts, one by one, with your smallest forceps.

Having emptied the egg of its contents, introduce some clear water by way of the blow-pipe, wash out the inside thoroughly, and in case the egg is in a clean, healthy condition, it can now be laid away on cotton or cornmeal, with the hole downward, to drain and get dry. Observe this point, however. The thin, membranous lining of an egg, which the point of the drill pierces but cannot cut away, often closes together inside the hole so closely as to retain, for some time, whatever water might chance to remain. For this reason it was my custom to cut away this membrane around the edges of the hole. Captain Bendire remarks that "eggs that have been thoroughly cleaned will retain their original color much better, and insects or mice are not so apt to trouble them."

Removing Large Embryos.—It often happens that eggs are taken quite near the hatching point, containing embryos so lusty in size, and so "very fillin'" that their successful ejectment seems impossible. Nil desperandum. The way out of the difficulty is through a very small hole. On this point I appealed to the highest authority, Captain Bendire, and he kindly gave me, in general substance, the following directions:

In the first place, make up your mind to go slow, and take plenty of time. If the egg is valuable and the embryo is large, reinforce the egg all over with strips of goldbeater's skin or court-plaster. Having drilled a fairly large hole, then insert the head of a needle in a small stick for a handle, and with the point pierce the embryo in twenty or thirty places. The egg sac, which is always present, should be taken out, if possible with the forceps, to give room for water.

Having cleared out the egg as far as possible, fill it up with water to assist in the decomposition of the embryo. Cover the bottom of a box with a layer of cornmeal or sawdust; lay the egg on this, with the hole upward (still full of water), cover the box, and place it under a stove or in any other place warm enough to hasten the process of decomposition. Work at the egg a little about every alternate day, but without hurrying matters, and keep this process in operation until the embryo softens, falls to pieces, and is ready to be drawn out piecemeal. In removing a large embryo, try to get hold of the tip of the mandible with the small forceps, so that it can be drawn out, point foremost, without splitting the shell.

Eggs that emit an offensive odor after they have been blown need to be rinsed out with carbolic acid and water, or some equally good disinfectant.

It is, of course, to be understood that eggs must be clean on the outside before they are fit for the cabinet. Usually soap and warm water is sufficient to remove dirt and stains, but occasionally a particularly hard case calls for the addition of a little washing soda in the water. The last washing, however, should always be in clear water.

Inasmuch as a label cannot be attached to an egg, the data necessary to give the egg a respectable position in the oological world must be written on the under side of the egg itself, either in lead pencil or India ink, which is capable of being erased, at will.

The following are the data that should be recorded on every egg collected and kept:

1. Name of species, or number in A.O.U. check list, if North American.

2. Collector's number, which belongs to every egg of a given set, and refers to his catalogue and field notes.

3. Number of eggs in the set, or "clutch."

4. Date in full.

In packing eggs for shipment, a great many small boxes of wood or tin are absolutely essential, and in these the eggs must be carefully packed in cotton, each one separated from the rest of the world by a layer of cotton. It is an excellent plan to wrap every large egg separately in cotton, as oranges are wrapped in papers. Captain Bendire recommends the making of divisions, one for each egg, with strips of pasteboard, like the crates in which egg producers pack eggs for shipment to market. This gives each egg a compartment by itself, with a bit of soft cotton cloth at top and bottom. If produce dealers can afford to take such care of eggs worth only thirty cents per dozen, surely oologists can do the same when they are within the pale of civilization, and can get the materials.

At the National Museum the duplicate eggs are stored in small, rectangular, shallow pasteboard trays, or half boxes, each of which has its bottom covered very neatly and exactly with a section of cotton wadding, which gives a soft, springy cushion for the eggs to lie on without the undesirable fluffy looseness of ordinary cotton batting.