CHAPTER XI. 



LATE IN APRIL. 



ON the morning of the 21st of April (1880), as I am riding 

 along the highway by the upland meadows, I spy a 

 Sparrow Hawk [Falco sparverius), perched on a tall dried 

 mullein-stalk, close to the road. He keeps his perch till I 

 am not more than four rods from him, partly because he is 

 the tamest of all the Hawks, but more especially because I 

 am riding. Flying off in an irregular zigzag manner, and 

 not very high, he alights in a small, solitary tree in the open 

 field. I stop to study him. Presently he starts out from 

 the tree, flying in his somewhat tipsy manner for a few 

 rods, giving the impression that he is not after anything 

 in particular, when he suddenly hovers gracefully for a few 

 seconds, and retires to the tree again. Evidently he had it 

 in mind to capture some little creature within the range of 

 his keen eye, but the chase did not turn out to suit him, so 

 he has concluded to await the next opportunity. In less than 

 a minute he sallies forth again, barely hovers, and drops to 

 the ground, returning to the tree with some small prey, 

 which, as I turn the glass upon him, I discover to be a field 

 mouse. Holding it under his claw, he tears it in pieces and 

 swallows it with a keen appetite, and in a few minutes more 

 is off again in a similar manner, this time returning with an ele- 

 gant little snake; which, after munching it pretty thoroughly 

 with his toothed bill, and stretching it out several times 



