THE OSPREY. 



51 



stantly begun to pounce down at us. 

 Then we beg^an to laug-h outrig-ht, to see 

 how the parent Hawks behaved, on find- 

 ing- themselves, at once, the attacked 

 and the attacking-. Each kept up a per- 

 petual chatter; she, with all the shrillness 

 of a feminine scold, — he, with an iteration 

 lower pitched, less nervous, and not un- 

 melodious. Meanwhile, I was looking- 

 for the nest, but fruitlesslv. While posi- 

 tive that I had passed almost over the 

 rig-ht spot, I found no sig-n. Then began 

 a ludicrous by-plaj. Mamma King-bird 

 joined the battle. When the little pair 

 distracted the Hawks, from time to time, 

 Donald and I would hide, as hide we 

 could, for all the ever present, ever hate- 

 ful ivy. But there was no hiding- for iis. 

 No sooner were we well stowed away, 

 when the hawks, beating- off their tor- 

 menters, would swoop down, with re- 

 doubled screeching-s, into our very faces. 

 Then, to add to the g-eneral confusion, 

 Arg-o, my raw pointer puppy, began to 

 arouse the Hawks well-nigh to frenz3% by 

 his leapings after what he could see, and 

 his searchings after something that he 

 could smell, but could not locate. 



This gave me just the hint I needed. 

 Renewing the search, I gave my scrutiny 

 a broader outlook. Then, "what's this?" 

 a feather or two and a cluster of bird- 

 droppings. I press on into the thicker 

 brush. Argo suddenly stiffens before 

 me, and, before him, I see a downy young 

 Marsh Hawk; whose quills and rectrices 

 are well sprouted, and whose whole 

 spread-eagle attitude bespeaks his tiny 

 rage. 



Instantly, my eye caught sight of a 

 faint trail, among the weeds. Every- 

 where were scattered spots of limey drop- 

 pings. 



More quickly than I can tell it, the 

 whole ensemble revealed itself; more blind 

 paths; a scattered line of hairs, with here 

 a bone, and there a bit of fur, and there 

 a feather; Argo pressing up beside me, 

 his eager jaws adrip; three more awk- 



ward pinf eathery Hawks, in various stages 

 of growth all in a row, at bay, glaring at 

 the dog; and then, seven feet away, di- 

 rectly beneath the shelter of a group of 

 burr-oaks, the nest, — now a befouled and 

 flattered platform, nearly eighteen inches 

 across, of sticks and weed stems and 

 grass, and, everywhere, the bushy and 

 weedy recesses were honey-combed with 

 openings made by the young birds, in 

 their growing, hunger-stimulated hardi- 

 hood. 



Impulsively I seized the nearest of the 

 open-beaked monstrosities that teetered 

 about, in their anger, beside me. Out of 

 his jaws protruded the entire denuded 

 tail of a jumping mouse, — as if the young- 

 ster needed anvthing to heighten the 

 effect of his ungainly anger-accentuated 

 picturesqueness! I took him home, for a 

 little time, to edify the rest of the house- 

 hold, and to gratify my own acquisitive- 

 ness. But his capacity for frogs proved 

 so enormous that I soon returned him to 

 his parents. Easily ma}' one guess at 

 some of the probable reasons for this 

 brush-land nesting habit of Ci?rits hud- 

 souius: concealment of nest; proximity 

 of food; shelter of the young from the 

 sun and from aerial enemies; convenience 

 of crannies for hiding the over-plus of 

 food secured. But perhaps, in the domain 

 of bird-wisdom, there are even better 

 reasons. 



How the eye delights, these early 

 autumn days, to follow the flight of the 

 3'oung birds, now all splender of grace 

 and richness of color! Just now, they 

 and their parents are haunting the stub- 

 ble fields; next month the}^ will ply the 

 reed}' meadows, to pick up, with exquisite 

 grace, the smaller fry of the wounded 

 birds of the gunner; in early November, 

 the rudd}' and the rust}' birds will grad- 

 ually disappear. A solitary old blue 

 male will then linger on awhile, in melan- 

 choly quest, above the "sere and yellow" 

 grass, and then, alas! will come, 



"The winter of our discontent." 



Ke^gon Pe^nay^sey and Win^'ge-'zee. 



BY CHIEF PO-KA-GOX. 



The Osprey was called by our people 

 Ke-gon Pe-nay-sey and the White-headed 

 Eag-le Win-ge-zee. The Osprey is a clean, 

 industrious bird, living almost entirely on 



fresh fish which it obtains through its 

 own skill and labor. Apparently it al- 

 lures its victims near the surface of the 

 water by its floppings and gyrations in 



