8 STORIES OF BIRD LIFE 



To distinguish him from another hawk which lived to 

 the westward outside of the Grant, I called our hero the 

 Arredondo sparrow hawk. Later, when I learned to know 

 him well, I named him Dick. 



The first time I remember to have seen Dick was on a 

 clear balmy morning in middle January while the last of 

 the orange pickers were going about their work. He came 

 out of the woods flying high and going as though an eagle 

 were after him. Over the orange grove he swiftly passed 

 and turning slightly to the left flew toward a tall light- 

 ning-stricken pine standing at the edge of the rice field. 

 "Tilly-tilly-tilly-tilly!" he cried as he swept along. Over 

 and over he repeated his call, until, slacking his speed with 

 quivering wings, he settled on the lifeless pine. 



Not all birds have mates. There are many single females 

 and many wifeless males. There are widows and widowers, 

 and often many little orphans are left in the world. But 

 old Dick was none of these, for down in the pines was the 

 prettiest, dearest little sweetheart for which a sparrow 

 hawk ever sighed. True, she was slightly heavier than he, 

 and her wings were broader and her waist was fully as 

 large, but these things only added to her attractiveness, 

 and besides, she was his mate, and he loved her as only a 

 blue-winged, striped-cheeked sparrow hawk can love. 



A bird has three main purposes in life. First, to secure 



