44 ON SURREY HILLS. 



the blackbird. Morning and evening, with other 

 birds near of kin, he sings his hymn to the rising 

 and setting sun. 



Deep within the wood, and close to the narrow 

 track, stand a few decayed firs which have thrown 

 out a fibrous growth in patches. A small portion 

 of a bird's wing with blood on it below one of these, 

 at my feet, makes me look quickly upward. I can 

 see a sparrow-hawk's nest with young ones in it. 

 They are hungry, and are calling for "mother." 

 Spar'-hawk, the woodmen call him very fitly, for he 

 or "she," as they say, will fly at anything. Here 

 she comes with a bird of some kind. She sees me, 

 and the bird is dropped quickly in the nest. A 

 flash of wings and tail, and "mother" is off, not 

 far away though, for she is on the watch. 



In a captive state the sparrow-hawk is not the 

 most gentle of pets. I have reared them from the 

 nest, male and female. It is surprising what they 

 will eat : they have tempers of their own, too, in 

 common with their keepers. One day spar' -hawk 

 will perch on your hand well gloved mind a bold, 

 handsome, good-humoured bird : the next time you 

 offer your hand he will strike, bite, and shriek, and 



