THE NEW SPORT OF “HAWKING” 
261 
squirrel’s nest as a foundation. They are apt either to use 
their last season’s nest or build another near it. There is 
a peculiar appearance about a new hawk’s nest. Only sticks 
are used, except for the inside lining. In the old nest the 
material is rotted and matted together ; in the new each stick 
has an individuality, and stands out from the rest. Often the 
ends of the sticks are newly broken, hence light in color, and 
there is a general look of freshness about the whole. Best of 
all signs, in most cases, though not always, some shreds 
of downy feathers cling to the occupied nest, or to the branches 
near it, — more and more as incubation advances. 
A blow or two on the tree-trunk will often banish doubt by 
starting the incubating hawk, but it is well to make as little 
noise as possible. Some individuals are exceedingly shy, and 
will not await a near approach. One Red-shouldered Hawk, 
whose nest I used to visit, would leave the nest and flit 
silently off as soon as she heard me coming. It was only 
by extreme stealth that I could catch even a fleeting glimpse 
of her. To pound trees indiscriminately would drive away 
all such birds long before the seekers came within sight of 
the nest. On the other hand, occasionally, and notably on a 
rainy day, the hawk will not move a feather for all the pound¬ 
ing one can do. To obviate the need of pounding the trees, 
and as more sure to flush the sitting bird, I have often used 
a rubber sling-shot, and a pocketful of small pebbles, which 
last can be replenished by the roadside. Many a fine hawk 
have I seen leave the nest in a hurry, even when the stone 
did not strike its mark, but simply whizzed by. It is often 
puzzling to know when it is best to climb to a nest. All we 
can do is to look sharp for signs, and act accordingly. I used 
to climb whenever in doubt, but after ascending about a thou¬ 
sand tall trees for nothing, I am now content, in most cases, 
to await further evidence. 
