FROM THE ELM-CLUMP 115 



disappeared from sight. He had but twenty or 

 thirty feet to fall and evidently got into the 

 rushes along the creek. The hawk missed his 

 last drive; then he returned and hovered long 

 over the spot, as though loth to admit defeat. 



In the second chase, the victim marked for 

 death was a marbled godwit. Having often 

 seen these birds swirling about at a dizzy pace 

 and listened to the roar of their long knife- 

 wings as they smote the air in a playful descent, 

 I felt assured that when the hawk started after 

 them he would be very much outclassed. Yet 

 in less than half a mile he was among them, had 

 singled a victim, and was stooping wickedly. 

 Each time the godwit dodged, he emitted an 

 angry or terrified cry, but the silent pursuer, 

 with never a sign of fatigue, swooped and 

 swooped and wore him down. Each time now 

 the hawk overshot his mark a little less in the 

 turnings. The last resort of the godwit was ex- 

 actly that of the other snipe, but the former being 

 over the big slough, dropped into the water. I 

 saw the hairbreadth escape and the splash, but 

 whether or not the godwit dived to get away, I 

 could not tell. Some of the sandpipers can 

 dive well, and probably the godwit escaped thus. 



