the tree, I expected to see a Red-shoulder flop leisurely off. 
Instead something’ left the nest with a dash and a whir, as 
though it were a projectile shot from a gun. This was typ¬ 
ical of Cooper’s Hawk, but it was so early in the season that 
I could not feel assured of the bird’s identity till I found my¬ 
self gazing at the five bluish-white eggs, marked with a few 
sparse brown spots, and heard the familiar “ cac-cac-cac ” 
THE NEW SPORT OF “HAWKING” 275 
ward night, on the way home, passing a pine grove, I hitched 
the horse and went in, following a high ridge, pine-clad, that 
ran through the woods. On one of these trees, overlooking 
the steep ravine, I saw a fresh nest of good size. As I struck 
SAME NEST AS LAST, WITH YOUNG 
