THE BIRD DIARY 178 



Approaching cautiously, I found a young red- 

 tail, just able to fly, sitting in the branches of a 

 big oak, vainly trying to ward off the well-timed 

 strokes of Mr. or Mrs. Kingbird. He was not 

 succeeding very well, either, for I watched the 

 fray several minutes and saw him hit viciously 

 many times, before he launched out awkwardly 

 and flopped away through the tree-tops, with his 

 tormentor still helping him onward. The hawk's 

 nest was in the tree, ten feet above where the 

 youngster was sitting, but whether or not this 

 was his first flight away from the home-nest, and 

 also probably his daily drubbing-ground, I am 

 unable to say. In a big oak close by, I found the 

 kingbird's nest, but though I climbed to it, the 

 parents made no noise whatever. In it were two 

 youngsters, not half grown, showing that this 

 kingbird is a late nester, at least so at the ex- 

 treme northern end of his range. 



Aug. 2. In early morning, off afoot for town, 

 nine miles distant. It was August in reality to- 

 day. Whether the eye ranged over the flower- 

 decked roadsides, or upon the fields and mead- 

 ows, or even in the upper air, it was August. 

 The long day, clear, dead calm, and hot ; the lim- 

 pid blueness of the sky; the upper air peopled 



