THE MARSH HAWK 107 



life about him. Two years ago he found the 

 nest, but when I got over to see it the next week, 

 it had been robbed, probably by some boys in the 

 neighborhood. The past season, in April or May, 

 by watching the mother bird, he found the nest 

 again. It was in a marshy place, several acres in 

 extent, in the bottom of a valley, and thickly 

 grown with hardback, prickly ash, smilax, and 

 other low thorny bushes. My friend took me to 

 the brink of a low hill, and pointed out to me 

 in the marsh below us, as nearly as he could, 

 just where the nest was located. Then we crossed 

 the pasture, entered upon the marsh, and made 

 our way cautiously toward it. The wild, thorny 

 growths, waist-high, had to be carefully dealt 

 with. As we neared the spot, I used my eyes the 

 best I could, but I did not see the hawk till she 

 sprang into the air not ten yards away from us. 

 She went screaming upward, and was soon sail- 

 ing in a circle far above us. There, on a coarse 

 matting of twigs and weeds, lay five snow-white 

 eggs, a little more than half as large as hens' 

 eggs. My companion said the male hawk would 

 probably soon appear and join the female, but 

 he did not. She kept drifting away to the east, 

 and was soon gone from our sight. 



We presently withdrew and secreted ourselves 

 behind the stone wall, in hopes of seeing the mo- 



