OUR COUNTRY LIFE 



A new trill diverted us, and a cerulean warbler 

 ventured near. How exquisite his blue coat flashed in 

 the sunlight! A tiny "cheep" still nearer and we 

 turned to see his mate fly across the path not ten feet 

 from the ground. Swift as an arrow darted a huge 

 bird toward the warbler, caught it in his talons and 

 bore it to the ground, then frightened at our approach 

 flew to a tree-top. 



"The hawk!" we cried in horrified accents. 



"Run for the gun. I '11 watch," gasped my com 

 panion. And stumbling over the rough surface of 

 the forest I finally gained the road and sped toward 

 the garage. It seemed ages before we could load the 

 gun, climb into the motor and return. The hawk had 

 not waited for us but we discovered her nest and later 

 on succeeded in shooting her. The nest was brought 

 down from its crotch in the tree some fifty feet above 

 the ground and the three blue-white eggs which 

 positively identified her destroyed. We could not 

 have Cooper hawks, the very worst of the species, en 

 joying our hospitality. 



48 



