A few yards from this new family were two young who could not have been over four days old, but who had left the nest for the shade of a piece of driftwood. Here they were fed by two birds—doubtless both parents—whom they seemed to recognize among the other Terns hovering above them. They were apparently fed on small fish, which the parent bird placed in their open mouths while standing just within reaching distance. None of the several pictures of these birds were wholly successful, but in all of them the old birds seem to be much more graceful in form than the parent of the newly hatched young in the seaweed. [Illustration: 61. Tern about to feed young. Same nest as No. 60.] A less experienced Tern had placed its nest of a few bits of seaweed among the pebbles, almost within reach of the waves. This bird was singularly restless, turning its head from side to side so constantly that its picture was secured only by pulling the long thread the moment after the bird moved.^{63, 64} Like all the birds photographed on the nest, it showed no alarm at the click of the shutter as the exposure was made. This surprised me not a little. The camera was usually about three feet from the bird, the exposure was necessarily rapid (¹⁄₂₅ second and stop 8), the snap of the old-style “Henry Clay,” used on the first day, or even of the less loud Iris diaphragm, could be plainly heard at a distance of several yards, and its failure to startle these nervous, easily frightened birds makes one suspect that their hearing is deficient. [Illustration: 62. Tern brooding young. Same nest as No. 60.] The nests of the Terns that chose the upland for a home were often picturesquely surrounded by stunted sumach or blooming yarrow, but the birds here were far less easy to photograph because of the difficulty of thoroughly concealing one’s camera. The owner of an especially pleasing nesting site kept me beneath my bit of sail for somewhat over two hours, while she—if it was she—hung in the air just over her eggs, on which I momentarily expected to see her settle.^{65} [Illustration: 63. Tern on nest. Site shown in No. 52.] [Illustration: 64. Tern on nest. Site shown in No. 52.] In the meantime the tide had arisen and floated my boat, which was carried by the wind across to Naushon, and I might have passed the night with the Terns, had not the Fish Commissioner’s launch taken me off in the afternoon. It would not have been an unwelcome experience. There was an abundance of dry seaweed for a couch—a nest, I had almost said—and some cavernlike openings beneath the piles of great bowlders had a very snug and cozy look, which probably would have disappeared shortly after sunset. [Illustration: 65. Tern on upland nest.]