70 NATURE IN A CITY YARD 



then. His flight is short and jerky as 

 compared with that of the great hawk. 

 From an elevation of perhaps three hun- 

 dred feet he twice swooped rapidly to 

 within a hundred feet of ground. His 

 squawk must have frightened his prey, if 

 he saw any. On another evening he came 

 flying from the southwest, hurriedly pass- 

 ing not more than sixty or eighty feet 

 overhead. Three of these hawks came 

 over in company at another time, and 

 their shrilling was far more agreeable to 

 me than the yell of " Clams ! Soft-shell 

 clams ! " on the next street. But many 

 will not believe it. His harsh and threat- 

 ening note is a gratefully wild one in the 

 dry, warm town. Though it sounds but a 

 few rods up in the air, you see nothing 

 with straining of your eyes; so there is 

 something elfish and uncanny as well as 

 exhilarating in this shriek from a viewless 

 source. 



If only a crow would come around once 

 in a while and sing for us, the bricks and 

 noise would be forgotten, though not for- 

 given, and the country would be near. 



