SEPTEMBER 205 



in feeding on a starling which it had just killed, rose 

 and, carrying its booty with it, dashed through a 

 window of the ante-room where we were sitting at tea 

 and landed on the floor inside, still grasping its prey. 

 The force expended in this case was less than that 

 required for the passage of the pheasant, for, although 

 the window broken by the hawk was only ten yards or 

 so distant from that broken by the pheasant, the pane 

 shattered was only sheet-glass, probably a hundred 

 years old; whereas the pheasant encountered and 

 overcame unhurt the far more substantial resistance 

 of plate-glass. In this case, as in the other, the bird 

 suffered no injury, and, notwithstanding the bad record 

 against her (for she too was a female) and her kind, we 

 liberated the fierce little pirate, and she flew away as 

 strongly as if nothing had happened. Next morning I 

 met her in the wood hard by, or, if it was not the same 

 bird, it was one of the same species. I reckon it good 

 luck that both these incidents happened in my own 

 house and that I was present on both occasions. 



The sparrow-hawk (Accipiter nisus) is a splendid 

 sprinter, dashing with lightning speed into a flock of 

 small birds, or swooping round the corner of a building 

 upon a brood of young chickens. It meets with scant 

 mercy from gamekeepers, by whom it is commonly 

 known as the blue hawk, from the prevailing slaty hue 

 of the plumage on its upper parts, whereby it may 

 easily be distinguished on the wing from the harmless, 

 mouse-hunting kestrel (Falco tinnunculus), whose 

 attire is mainly of rich russet. Both birds, of course, 

 go by the name of hawk, though the kestrel is a true 



