THE OOLOOIST. 



89 



here's where you get the first eggs of 

 this bird taken in Orange county." But 

 I didn't. 



For ten feet in a true circle around 

 the base of that tree lay the thickest 

 cactus patch you ever saw. The worst 

 bit of buckthorn the old down East 

 hills can produce wouldn't be a circum- 

 stance to it. It wasn't very high not 

 more than a foot or so, but thick as 

 "hair on a dog's back". At it I went 

 with a big club, making more racket 

 than two men ought to have made. 

 Above I heard the hawk leaving her 

 nest, and this only added strength to my 

 blows. Like a Hindu fakir I rushed 

 rough shod over the thorns and tackled 

 the tree. When I had gained the first 

 limb a huge branch which grew straight 

 out over the dry creek bed some ten 

 feet up. Here I slipped off my shoes 

 and stockings and then up I went. 



Not being much of a climber, I sweat- 

 ed and shinned, and I fear, swore a 

 little, ere I gained that nest. But the 

 reward was there, three pale blue white 

 eggs, smaller than those of the Red- 

 tail, yet larger than the Cooper's. The 

 nest was well made, firmly thatched 

 and lined with bark from the dead wil- 

 lovvs of the river bottom. The old 

 b-rds were quite fearless, dashing at 

 my head repeatedly as I lowered the set 

 in a small sack to the ground. Their 

 sooty bodies and general buzzard ap- 

 pearance gave away their identity, and 

 the books at home established it beyond 

 a doubt when I returned. Before this 

 I had been unable to connect with the 

 breeding places of this hawk, though 

 I knew them to be fairly numerous in 

 Southern California, but since I have 

 found several sets, none, so far as I 

 recall, of more than three eggs and the 

 majority of only two. For the most 

 part they build in Sycamores or large 

 oaks along the edges of dry canyons, 

 or on the edges of sloping mesas, 

 where their principal food supply, 

 squirrels and gophers, are abundant. 



They are of inestimable value to the 

 grain raisers of the western slope, 

 though it may be called, one of the 

 least known to all of the so called 

 "Chicken hawks" of the west, 

 (to be continued.) 



A Battle with the Broad Wings. 



R. V. HASKIN. 



The 15th of May, found me bound for 

 a piece of woodland where my friend 

 Mr. B. had informed me that a pair 

 of hawks were breeding. 



As I came to the outskirts of the 

 woods, the male hawk came circling 

 overhead and eyeing me as if mistrust- 

 ing the object of my intrusion. I did 

 not leave him long in doubt as to my 

 destination, but commenced to look for 

 the nest, which my friend had told me 

 was near a small pond of water. After 

 exploring the woods for some distance 

 around the pond, I finally located the 

 nest in a large black oak and about 

 thirty feet from the ground. As climb- 

 ing irons were impracticable on so large 

 a tree, I decided to use cleats and pro- 

 ceeded to nail them on. 



The female hawk was alarmed at the 

 pounding and raising from the nest, 

 flew about fifteen yards, alighting in 

 the dead branches of an old beech, 

 where she watched my operations with 

 evident unconcern. However, after I 

 had come up within five feet of the 

 nest, she suddenly seemed to realize 

 what was going on, and with a hair rais- 

 ing whir of wings came straight at my 

 face. 



To say that I was asonished would 

 be putting it mildly. I had climbed a 

 tree the year before, and secured one 

 of the young of this same pair of 

 hawks, and they had looked calmly on 

 and never raised their voices in protest. 

 But this year they, or rather she, as 

 the male took no part in the conflict, 

 decidedly meant business, and one dive 



