THE HAWKS OF NEW ENGLAND. 



603 



notes he had at his command. Sweepstakes, as we named him, 

 would sit on my shoulder or the rim of my hat, and chatter away 

 with so much expression that it seemed the worst kind of stu- 

 pidity on my part not to be able to understand everything he 

 said. When he had gained the full strength of his wings he 

 would come flying to me for protection from a furious mob of 

 small birds which he had exasperated by his bungling attempts 

 at hunting, and alighting on the rim of my hat go scrambling 

 round and round it with a great rustling and scratching of his 

 claws. When perched on any one's wrist or finger, he was al- 

 ways careful not to let his claws prick the skin, and was more 

 thoughtful about such matters than the best-natured kitten in 

 the world. He was especially fond of being stroked with the 

 wing feather of some large bird, and was always uneasy if any of 

 his own feathers were ruffled or misplaced. He would almost 

 always come when called, even though not in the least hungry. 

 Sometimes if he saw Jack, the white bull terrier, going about 

 with a bone in his mouth, he would light on the bone and ride 



SPARROW HAWK. 



there until he had eaten what he wanted. If it took him some 

 time to get enough, Jack, who was a most exemplary gentleman, 

 would drop the bone, and lying down beside it quietly wait for 

 his very good friend to finish. But his very fearlessness proved 

 his destruction, for he got into the way of flying across the pas- 

 tures to a farmhouse half a mile away, and was shot, to the bit- 

 ter regret of all who had known him. 



