A HERMIT'S WILD FRIENDS 



heard their cries. The cry made by the 

 grouse was new to me. It was a wild cry in 

 every sense of the word. The grouse, when 

 she fled with her eggs, took the path to the 

 cabin, and I think she did it for protection. 



Last spring I saw something that added 

 to my knowledge of crow intelligence. 



Fuller Brook runs past my cabin, and after 

 losing itself in a swamp, takes up its course 

 again between high granite hills, until it falls 

 into the sea at Fresh Water Cove. In the 

 valley along the brook tall pine and hemlock 

 trees make an ideal nesting-site for crows and 

 hawks. Last spring I was much interested 

 in a red-shouldered hawk's-nest which was in 

 this valley. There were two crow's nests some 

 twenty rods farther down the valley. One 

 of my visits found the male hawk at home, and 

 when he discovered me he flew in circles above 

 the trees, uttering the loud scream that can be 

 heard for a mile or more. Soon two crows 

 came sneaking through the tree-tops to find 

 out what was disturbing the hawk. The 

 hawk flew to a tall pine, but continued his 

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