A YOUNG MARSH HAWK 139 



"We first poured some warm milk down its throat, 

 which soon revived it, so that it would swallow 

 small bits of flesh. In a day or two we had it eat- 

 ing ravenously, and its growth became noticeable. 

 Its voice had the sharp whistling character of that 

 of its parents, and was stilled only when the bird 

 was asleep. We made a pen for it, about a yard 

 square, in one end of the study, covering the floor 

 with several thicknesses of newspapers; and here, 

 upon a bit of brown woolen blanket for a nest, the 

 hawk waxed strong day by day. An uglier-looking 

 pet, tested by all the rules we usually apply to such 

 things, would have been hard to find. There he 

 would sit upon his elbows, his helpless feet out in 

 front of him, his great featherless wings touching 

 the floor, and shrilly cry for more food. For a time 

 we gave him water daily from a stylograph-pen filler, 

 but the water he evidently did not need or relish. 

 Fresh meat, and plenty of it, was his demand. And 

 we soon discovered that he liked game, such as mice, 

 squirrels, birds, much better than butcher's meat. 



Then began a lively campaign on the part of my 

 little boy against all the vermin and small game in 

 the neighborhood to keep the hawk supplied. He 

 trapped and he hunted, he enlisted his mates in his 

 service, he even robbed the cats to feed the hawk. 

 His usefulness as a boy of all work was seriously 



impaired. "Where is J ?" "Gone after a 



squirrel for his hawk." And often the day would 

 be half gone before his hunt was successful. The 

 premises were very soon cleared of mice, and the 



