262 WILD WINGS 



Now let us go " hawking." Middle April opens the season, 

 when the Red-tailed and Red-shouldered Hawks have just 

 laid their eggs. It is the twelfth this time, and we start out 

 early from North Middleboro, Massachusetts, in the buggy, 

 behind my speedy little mare. Never was there a more beau- 

 tiful early spring day. The songs of Robins, Bluebirds, Song 

 Sparrows, Pine Warblers, the newly arrived Chipping Spar- 

 rows, and others fill the air. Barn and Tree Swallows add 

 grace to the quiet scenery of the gently rolling landscape of 

 the Pilgrim county. The loud honking of a passing wedge 

 of Canada Geese on their way north rings out now above the 

 other sounds. 



Our first quest shall be the huge nest of a Red-tail on an 

 enormous white pine on the edge of a swamp, to which on 

 the twenty-second of March I happened to see the hawk fly 

 with a stick. We drive up the sandy old New Bedford turn- 

 pike, three miles or more, to North Lakeville, near the tack 

 factory, and turn down the lane to the old abandoned " her- 

 mitage," where we hitch the horse and follow a path. It leads 

 almost to the tree, and there is the nest. Now watch while 

 I pound, and start the hawk. Nothing stirs. Is it possible 

 that I was mistaken in my former observation? No, there 

 she spreads her wings, and away she goes over the tree-tops! 

 A good sixty feet it is, and no branches near the base, so 

 the climbing-irons must be buckled on. Shall I guess at the 

 contents of the nest ? Three eggs. For a wonder I am right, 

 for the Red-tail in New England seldom lays more than two. 

 Meanwhile the female has returned and is protesting. Her 

 harsh screams have been compared, not inaptly, to the squeal- 

 ing of a pig, " pee-eh-h, pee-eh-h-h," they sound like, to 

 me. The male has heard, and he follows, though rather far 

 off. It is fascinating to sit here in the sun and see them soar, 

 but we must be off to other adventures. 



