When the boat was not dragging she was wallowing in cross seas, and being hammered by the otter boat, which was difficult to manage.  The anchors held firmly, much to our relief, and after a disagreeable night of watching we beat back to our mooring at the head of the little cove.  The mountains being covered with fresh snow in the morning, there was nothing to do but eat and sleep.

The bear meat improved with age, and hours of boiling rid it of its bitter flavor.  The whole cabin—­and its occupants—­smelled of bear’s grease.  The thermometer registered 30.

On May 2, as the wind was unsuitable for bear hunting, we made a photographing trip to a cliff across the bay, where two bald-headed eagles had built their nest.  Merriam and I had a very interesting stalk with a camera.  We landed near the cliff, and the eagles, becoming disturbed, flew away.  The men were sent out in the boat, and we kept in hiding until signalled that the birds had quieted down.  We gained the top of the cliff, a mere knife edge in places, where we worked our way along, straddling the rock.  The birds had selected a splendid place, straight up from the water, where they had built their nest firmly into a bush on the side of the cliff.

I stalked the eagle within about 75 feet and caught her with the camera, as she was leaving her nest.  The earth forming the center of the nest was frozen and three eggs lay in a little hollow of hay on top.  The big birds circled about us all the time, but did not offer to attack.  Bald-headed eagles are very common on Kadiak, and are always found about the salmon streams later, during the run, being good fishermen.  It seems they, of all the birds here, are the first to lay their eggs, and their young are the last to leave the nest.

We secured some eagle eggs on these trips, of which we made several, and found the cliff nests much the easier to approach, as it was very difficult to get above nests built in trees.

In connection with the eagle, the magpie should not be forgotten.  Of these black and white birds there were many about, and there seemed to be a bond of sympathy between the widely separated species of marauders.  Bold enough we knew the smaller bird to be, but to believe that he would actually steal an eagle’s fish breakfast from under his very nose one must sec the act.  The eagle appeared to mind but little, occasionally pecking the thief away when he became offensive.

The magpie, on the other hand, seemed to have a warm feeling for his big friend, and once at least we saw him flying about an eagle’s nest and warning the old birds of our approach with his harsh cry.

One good day among many bad ones showed no more bear signs, so we soaped the seams of the otter boat, which leaked badly, and set sail for Three Saints Bay, named after Shelikoff’s ship.  This proved to be a narrow piece of water running far inland, with snow-covered mountain sides, and by far the most beautiful fjord on the island.