EACH AFTER ITS KIND 



than once in twenty years do I find the nest of a 

 hen-hawk. 



Two species of our smaller hawks present about 

 as sharp a contrast as do the two I have just de- 

 scribed — the sparrow hawk and the pigeon hawk. 

 It is very doubtful if the sparrow hawk ever kills 

 sparrows, its food being largely insects, though the 

 pigeon hawk is not above killing pigeons — at least 

 of pursuing them with murderous intent. It is the 

 terror of the smaller birds, capturing robins, high- 

 holes, bluebirds, thrushes, and almost any other 

 it can get its claws upon. If you see a small bird 

 hotly pursued by a brown hawk, the chances are 

 that it is the song or field sparrow making desperate 

 efforts to reach the cover of some bush or tree. On 

 such occasions I have seen the pursued bird take 

 refuge in a thorn-bush the branches of which had 

 been cropped by the cattle till they were so thick 

 and thorny that you could hardly insert your hand 

 among them. In such cases the hawk is, of course, 

 defeated, but he will beat about the bush spitefully 

 in his vain attempts to dislodge his game. 



The sparrow hawk is the prettiest of our hawks, 

 and probably the most innocent. One midsummer 

 when I was a boy on the old farm we had a sudden 

 visitation of sparrow hawks; there must have been 

 at least fifty about the old meadow at one time, 

 alighting upon the fence-stakes or hovering on the 

 wing above the grass and swooping down upon the 



165 



