144 A YOUNG MARSH HAWK 



his eye in all directions, turning his head over 

 and glancing it up into the sky. 



He was now a lovely creature, fully fledged, 

 and as tame as a kitten. But he was not a bit 

 like a kitten in one respect — he could not bear 

 to have you stroke or even touch his plumage. 

 He had a horror of your hand, as if it would 

 hopelessly defile him. But he would perch upon 

 it, and allow you to carry him about. 



If a dog or cat appeared, he was ready to give 

 battle instantly. He rushed up to a little dog 

 one day, and struck him with his foot savagely. 

 He was afraid of strangers, and of any unusual 

 object. 



The last week in July he began to fly quite 

 freely, and it was necessary to clip one of his 

 wings. As the clipping embraced only the ends 

 of his primaries, he soon overcame the diffi- 

 culty, and by carrying his broad, long tail more 

 on that side, flew with considerable ease. He 

 made longer and longer excursions into the sur- 

 rounding fields and vineyards, and did not al- 

 ways return. On such occasions we would go 

 find him and fetch him back. 



Late one rainy afternoon he flew aAvay into 

 the vineyard, and when, an hour later, I went 

 after him, he could not be found, and we never 

 saw him again. 



We hoped hunger would soon drive him 

 back, but we have had no clue to him from that 

 day to this. 



