Marsh Hawk {Circus Hudsonius) 



The ashy upper parts, white rump and long tail of the adult male sufficiently 

 distinguish this hawk; while the fuscous upper parts and buff under parts much 

 streaked with brown distinguish the female and young. 



Range : Breeds through much of Canada, south to the middle United States ; 

 winters in the United States, especially in the south. 



Though not exclusively a marsh frequenter, as its name might seem to imply, 

 this hawk prefers open country, and its favorite hunting grounds are meadow 

 and marsh, in which it nests on the ground. It flies rather low, the better to 

 see and drop suddenly upon the luckless meadow mice — its favorite food. Un- 

 fortunately small birds form part of its fare, and there are localities, like Cape 

 Cod and Martha's Vineyard, in Massachusetts, where this hawk has earned a 

 bad reputation as a destroyer of poultry and game. However, over much the 

 larger part of the vast territory it inhabits, the marsh hawk is a rodent eater, and 

 the debt of gratitude it lays upon the farmer is large. This debt should be fully 

 discharged by preserving the bird and encouraging its presence unless it is 

 caught committing overt acts. In other words, as this hawk is very beneficial 

 over most of its range, individual hawks should be presumed to be innocent 

 unless detected in transgression. 



The Abandoned Nest 



By Melicent Humason Lee 



Slight structure, woven to a birchen bough, 

 What memories hast thou 

 When winter breezes blow, and furry snow 

 Clings to the sedges of thy withered brow? 

 Dost thou remember how, in spring, a bride 

 Brought bits of bark and tucked them in thy side, 

 And quilt from hornet's nest, and lacey foam 

 From spider's web to decorate, her home ? 



What tenderness, what ecstasy, what zest 

 Inspired her young breast 



To tear from cloistered couch the cat-tail seeds, 

 And meet the warmth a little birdling needs! 

 How many feeble chirps have filled thy cave? 

 How many beaks have begged the food she gave ? 

 Now, but a blast explores thy cradle crude, 

 Where once a mother reared her little brood. 



924 



