34 Birds of Lakeside and Prairie 



making for a solitary sycamore which stood in the field's cen- 

 ter. He was in ignominious flight with two crows in hot 

 pursuit. The hawk pitched upon a limb and clung there, 

 though one of his pursuers struck him full and fair. The 

 impact swung the hawk about, but he made no attempt to 

 retaliate. Our driver kindly stopped his horses, and we glued 

 our glasses on the big bird. It was a red-shouldered hawk, 

 beyond much doubt, though positive identification at the 

 distance was impossible. The crows took a perch just above 

 his hawkship and dropped down alternately to give him a 

 peck and a wing stroke, which he took with cowardly humil- 

 ity. The red-shouldered hawk will strike and carry off a 

 game-cock, but the spurless crow is his master. Why it is 

 that this bird, so well fitted by Nature for fighting, should 

 allow himself on all occasions to be browbeaten and thrashed is 

 something that is past finding out. The crow is literally the 

 b$te noir of the hawk tribe. Perhaps the reason may be, as 

 our Indiana friend suggested, "The crow has the devil in 

 him, and every bird and everybody is afraid of the devil." 



The road wound round the base of one of the many hills. 

 A bird flushed from the wayside, took to the top of a pole 

 which served as a support for the rails of the crooked fence. 

 "One of the smaller thrushes," was the first thought, but it 

 was too early even in southern Indiana for the hermit or the 

 veery. The bird sang softly. No bell-like thrush notes 

 these. The singer was the fox sparrow, the largest of his 

 tribe, but this vocal effort was not his best. Foxie seemed 

 to feel that even though the sun were bright in the valley, 

 there might be storm conditions yet ahead, and that the time 

 had not yet come for the fullness of song. It has always 

 seemed to me that the fox sparrow of the Middle West is of a 



