222 Bird-Land Echoes. 



creeping into the middle of one of the larger patches 

 of this grass, stepping carefully so as to leave no track 

 behind me, and, bending down sufficient of it for a 

 mattress, would lie flat upon my back and look at 

 the sky. I always took care to have sufficient stand- 

 ing grass to shield me, and more than once enjoyed 

 lying very still while members of the family or some 

 of the farm hands were passing by, wondering what 

 had become of me. Those were days when rheu- 

 matism was not a bugbear, and at such times I 

 loved, above all other bird adventures, to watch the 

 circling red-tailed hawks that hour after hour wheeled 

 round and round far overhead and occasionally sent 

 earthward a wild scream that seemed like a message. 

 Kee-aah — kee-aah ! A wild sound, if ever there 

 was one ; such a cry as an Indian or a panther at 

 bay might be expected to utter, but which would 

 never be attributed to a bird, — not even this bold 

 hawk. Still, it is not so far-reaching as the screech 

 or demoniac yell of a great horned or a barn-owl, 

 which, however, is now but seldom heard. 



This study of the birds above us never becomes 

 monotonous. I have seen five red-tailed hawks 

 circling at the same time and always keeping at 

 about the same distance from one another. They 

 described an inner and four outer circles, slightly 

 overlapping. As if by mutual agreement, the birds 

 would at times rise higher and higher, until they 

 seemed but mere black dots in the light blue beyond ; 

 then for a moment they would appear to be motion- 

 less in mid-air, after which, as gradually as they as- 



