CHAPTER IX. 



A FEW FEATHERED FIENDS. 



WHEN I showed one of the illustrations of this 

 chapter to a friend, she remarked, "What 

 a fiend !" and as I recall all the hawks and owls 

 that I have seen, it is a question whether they are 

 not all more or less fiendish. Admitting this, it 

 does not take from them any of their attractiveness ; 

 on the contrary, we are perhaps even drawn towards 

 them because of it. Cruelty and all the quahties 

 that we desire eliminated from human nature are 

 secretly, if not openly, admired when exhibited by 

 the lower orders of creation. 



Birds of prey are features of the winter landscape. 

 Not that they are absent at other seasons ; but with 

 the trees in full foliage, all the summer birds about, 

 and every field, wood, and meadow packed with 

 fruit and flowers, they are inconspicuous in com- 

 parison with the days of snow-clad fields, bare trees, 

 and open meadows, — brown where the snow has 

 melted and glittering as glass where ice has formed. 

 At such a time not a rough-legged or sharp-shinned 



210 



