THE MENACE FROM ABOVE 91 



there were still no insects and the mice were still 

 hidden, I watched a marsh-hawk flying over the 

 fields beside a small pond. He found nothing, and 

 crossed the water. On the other shore he suddenly 

 poised himself in mid-air for a long moment, then 

 dropped to a height of only a few feet, and shot up 

 over a little headland of shrubs, coming down into 

 the bushes on the other side. As he swooped, I saw 

 several small birds, probably song-sparrows, scatter 

 with little cheeps of terror into the densest part of 

 the shrubbery. As they scattered, the hawk 

 wheeled and dodged about, trying to snatch one out 

 of the air. He then rose twenty feet, hovered over 

 the spot for some time, and eventually decided it 

 was no use, darting swiftly away. The episode, 

 however, did not make me feel very pleasantly 

 toward him. 



Eagles are becoming so rare in the East now that 

 few people ever see one. Sometimes they think 

 they see one, when it is in reality the big osprey, or 

 fish-hawk. That noble-looking and vicious-acting 

 brute, the golden eagle, who nests on inaccessible 

 cliff ledges, has been driven more and more into 

 remote mountain fastnesses. But the bald eagle 

 still is found occasionally. In December, 1917, one 

 was seen in southern New Hampshire, and the next 

 day one was shot in Maynard, Massachusetts, while 

 eating a pig he had just killed. Presumably it was 

 the same bird seen in New Hampshire the day 

 before. Twenty-five years ago we used to see bald 

 eagles rather frequently both in Rhode Island, along 

 the salt ponds, and in the wilder parts of the Berk- 

 shires and the White Mountains. But they are 



