THE MARSH HAWK 115 



his nature. He liked the rain equally well, and 

 when put out in a shower would sit down and 

 take it as if every drop did him good. 



His legs developed nearly as slowly as his 

 wings. He could not stand steadily upon them 

 till about ten days before he was ready to fly. 

 The talons were limp and feeble. When we came 

 with food, he would hobble along toward us like 

 the worst kind of a cripple, drooping and mov- 

 ing his wings, and treading upon his legs from 

 the foot back to the elbow, the foot remaining 

 closed and useless. Like a baby learning to stand, 

 he made many trials before he succeeded. He 

 would rise up on his trembling legs only to fall 

 back again. 



One day, in the summer-house, I saw him for 

 the first time stand for a moment squarely upon 

 his legs with the feet fully spread beneath them. 

 He looked about him as if the world suddenly 

 wore a new aspect. 



His plumage now grew quite rapidly. One red 

 squirrel a day, chopped fine with an axe, was 

 his ration. He began to hold his game with his 

 foot while he tore it. The study was full of 

 his shed down. His dark-brown mottled plumage 

 began to grow beautiful. The wings drooped a 

 little, but gradually he got control of them, and 

 held them in place. 



