28 STOKIES OF BIRD LIFE 



wonder is that Bib-neck knew enough to lie quiet. The 

 hawk had seen him near that spot only the fraction of a 

 second before, and it checked its flight with a mighty whir 

 and flap of its wings which it hoped would cause the little 

 plover to start, or move his head just the least portion of 

 an inch, and thus disclose himself. But Bib-neck did not 

 stir, although the shadow of the bird had fallen over him 

 and the wicked yellow eyes seemed to look straight into his 

 as they searched the sands. The hawk wheeled and hov- 

 ered, and then flew off only to return in half a minute 

 with another great rush. It disliked to give up the search, 

 for it was hungry and was hunting in good earnest for its 

 dinner. 



But it did not have much longer to wait, for it soon sur- 

 prised a red-shouldered blackbird among the reeds of a 

 small marsh back of the dunes. Away went the blackbird 

 with a startled cackle, the hawk in hot pursuit. 



Bib-neck saw it all from his lookout tower on the top of a 

 dune. He beheld his marsh neighbor when first he flew, and 

 saw him at intervals during the game of dodging which fol- 

 lowed. He often saw the red epaulettes of the blackbird 

 twinkle in the sunlight, and at times the flash of light on 

 the upturned flanges of the hawk's wings as it dived and 

 twisted in the race. It was all so new and fearful and 

 exciting to him that he fairly danced with nervousness. 



