A YOUNG MARSH HAWK 141 



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 per 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. 



It was now the 20th of July, and the hawk was 

 about five weeks old. In a day or two he was walk- 

 ing or jumping about the ground. He chose a posi- 

 tion under the edge of a Norway spruce, where he 

 would sit for hours dozing, or looking out upon the 

 landscape. When we brought him game he would 

 advance to meet us with wings slightly lifted, and 

 uttering a shrill cry. Toss him a mouse or sparrow, 

 and he would seize it with one foot and hop off to 

 his cover, where he would bend above it, spread his 

 plumage, look this way and that, uttering all the 

 time the most exultant and satisfied chuckle. 



About this time he began to practice striking with 

 his talons, as an Indian boy might begin practicing 



