July, 1889.] 



a:n^d oologist. 



107 



entering a few Song Sparrows were seen, and 

 in a bunch of cedars a Cliickadee was busily 

 engaged in searching for food. 



It w\as now near dinner time and we started 

 for the beach where we expected to see and 

 maybe to secure some gulls. As we were 

 about to cross an open spot in the woods, a 

 large Hawk was seen on the other side, and 

 we immediately made plans to secure him. 

 Ted was to go under a large tree on the 

 other side of the woods and I was to try 

 and drive the Hawk over to him. I thought 

 I might as well have a chance at him myself, 

 so I i)ut a heavy shell in my gun, and after 

 waiting long enough for Ted to get to his post, 

 I started towards the game. I believe he 

 saw me from the time I started but he jiaid 

 no attention until I was within about a hun- 

 dred yards, when he made preparations for de- 

 parture. I raised my gun to scare him and 

 was surprised to see him, wlien I fired, fold 

 his wings, catch a moment at the branch, and 

 fall with a thud. A random T shot had hit 

 him in the neck. Ted says I will never 

 have consumption, judging from the way I 

 yelled, but I think he felt rather sore at not 

 getting a shot. When Ted came up we decided 

 that our prize was a Rough-legged Hawk. 

 Feeling very well satisfied with our morn- 

 ing's work we went to the beach and had our 

 lunch. Feeding on the shore were lots of 

 Crows and Gulls, and on the high ground a 

 flock of Horned Larks were flying from place 

 to place, but we had enough for one day and 

 left them until New Year's, when we hoped to 

 meet them again. Our return home was un- 

 interesting except for a short chase after a 

 Sparrow Hawk which had no trouble in elud- 

 ing us. 



Stopping to pick up the Owls wc then di- 

 rected our steps to a woods about a mile 

 from the meadows, and had the pleasure of 

 seeing a Red-tailed Hawk fly away without 

 giving us a shot. In a hole in a tree a Screech 

 Owl was found,butwasleftuntilApril when we 

 hoped to get a set of eggs. Owl and all. On 

 the side of a chestnut tree a Brown Creeper 

 was seen running around uttering its note, 

 and looking for insects. 



As we crossed a corn field near home we 

 flushed another flock of Horned I^arks, and 

 we said we will get them next week, but we 

 never did as it rained on New Year's day and 

 although we went out after them, we did not 

 see them as they had gone probably to a fairer 

 place. 



Velox. 



A Drive into the Country. 



April, the loveliest of the twelve, is come. 

 Robed in a gown of green, and pressing the 

 humbler flowers under her gentle tread she 

 casts away the fading wreath of yellow jas- 

 mine which March bequeathed, and garlands 

 her brow with the bloom of the crab apple and 

 wild honey-suckle. Everywhere throughout 

 the broad forest are spread her snowy pavil- 

 ions of blossoming dogwood. April is our 

 "May time" of the poets. Those writers who 

 have gilded their pages with bright songs of 

 "the May" never lived South, 



Yesterday (April 5th) I had occasion, as I fre- 

 quently do, to drive into the country. The day 

 was one of such delicious balm that I relished 

 keenly every sight and every sound. You have 

 noted, a thousand times perhaps, how the con- 

 dition of the weatlier tempers the uncultured 

 music of the woods, and softens or hardens, as 

 the case may be, the commonest scenes of life. 



Tlie mild, sweet airs of the day in question 

 smacked just enough of summer to be inviting 

 to "Lazy Lawrence," whose inoffensive image 

 danced on and on, always a hundred yards 

 ahead of the horse; now more distinct, then 

 disappearing altogether where the oaks with 

 their half-grown leaves threw across the road 

 refreshing shadows dotted with dimples of sun- 

 shine. 



My route traversed a fine farming section ; 

 and the long rows of young corn stretching in 

 green threads across wide fields, the luxui-iant 

 growth of young oats promising a heavy yield, 

 the black-nosed Jerseys feeding in pastures 

 of rye now begiiniing to head, the hajjpy, un- 

 studied song of the dusky plowman oi^ening 

 furrows for the seed of "King Cotton," all 

 united to present to the senses an agricultural 

 picture of rich coloring. 



Upon the edge of a well-worn bridge that 

 spanned the head of a mill-pond, with their 

 feet dangling over the water, sat three little 

 darkies lazily watching the corks on their fish- 

 ing lines below, while in the grass at the feet of 

 a fourth one fishing from the bank wriggled a 

 monster cat fish. They fished on enjoying the 

 warm sunshine, and all unheedful of the voice 

 of a Vireo that kept me peering here, thei-e, 

 everywhere in vain, for the intrepid but invis- 

 ible songster. 



Vireos were numerous along the entire drive. 

 The alders and maple that bordered the 

 streams were vocal with their notes; yet in 

 every instance it was difficult indeed to see the 

 bird. 



