The Story of a Red-tailed Hawk 



fawn-color and bright brown crowded out the dow^ny gray of his first days. 

 Just one month from the day he came, July 12, I stretched out my hand to 

 stroke his back as I had formed the habit of doing while he fed, and, at the 

 touch, he lifted his wings and flew far enough away to be out of my reach. From 

 that time he never willingly allowed human hands to touch him. I caught him 

 occasionally and for a long 

 time he manifested great 

 fear, uttering a most piti- 

 ful sound and begging 

 with all his art for mercy. 

 The feathered films, now- 

 white, would close as if in 

 death over his terrified 

 eyes. If, as sometimes 

 happened, I tied a cord 

 to his leg and took him 

 out - of - doors, upon his 

 realizing that I was about 

 to catch him to return 

 him to his nest, he would 

 throw himself on his back, 

 spread out his wings to 

 their fullest extent, curl 

 up his feet, and then beg. 

 But as time went on, he 

 seemed to realize that 

 somewhow he always came 

 out all right, and like the 

 wise Hawk that he was, 

 he ceased to struggle 

 much or to be greatly an- 

 noyed when I picked him 

 up. He never used his bill 

 to strike me — his talons 

 were for his protection, and though he became gentle with me in their use, 

 with a stranger, or one he feared, he would use them mercilessly. During 

 the whole of the first summer, if anything frightened or plagued him he would 

 seek shelter in his nest, flattening himself out as if dead. 



During the first month I fed him on beefsteak, fiver and kidney, being care- 

 ful to give him no fat, which he disliked decidedly. After that, I began to hunt 

 for him, and the way he took his first mouse was a most striking example of the 

 power of instinct. As I held it before him, his wonderful sight comprehended 

 in an instant that there was the thing that his body craved. With a wild 



"JOHNNY' 



