A SPRING TOUR IN NORWAY. 195 
between Fokstuen and Dombaas on the 30th May. It was in a 
pine, was lined with wool, stuck together with mud, and looked 
very like the architecture of a Hoodie. There were seven eggs, 
sat, the hardest a week. 
Goshawk. Astur palumbarius.—On May 19th, at Grut, we 
procured five eggs of the above, hard sat. The nest, which was of 
great size, and had evideutly been used for many years,—the new 
on the top of the old,—was half way up a tall pine, in a thick wood, 
on low ground, close to the River Orkla: it was composed of 
sticks, and lined with green pine-tufts, the eggs being laid on 
scraps of bark on the top of these. The ground round the tree 
was completely covered with bones, mostly of the various Thrushes. 
As we approached the old bird got off, and hovered screaming 
above the wood, where she was soon surrounded by a host of 
croaking Hoodies; it was amusing to see how they scuttled out of 
the way whenever she made a feint at them. She allowed us one 
shot at her, as she made a dash over the nest, but was missed. 
Sparrowhawk. Accipiter nisus.—We never saw this hawk after 
landing, but on May 11th, whilst crossing, one alighted on the 
steamer, quite exhausted, and spent the night perched on the 
rigging. It would permit approach within arm’s length, and could 
easily have been knocked down with a stick. 
Rough-legged Buzzard. Archibuteo lagopus. — Saw a pair 
between Fokstuen and Jerkin, hovering about a big cliff, on June 8. 
They looked beautiful, floating between us and a bright sun, their 
white wing-feathers seeming almost transparent. Evidently they 
were breeding, as their anxious proceedings and the continual 
uttering of their alarm whistle whenever we went near the place 
plainly showed; but, to the discredit of our perception, as it 
turned out, we thought they were only just getting the eggs nicely 
laid, and so left them for a while. On the 15th, however, we 
started for the place, with all the available hide-rope in the valley, 
and whilst one end of this was held at the top of the cliff, I at 
the other, explored all likely places. There were three or four 
old nests, and it was some time before the right one was hit upon. . 
Great was the disappointment, and inexcusable the language, 
when a faint whistle proclaimed young, and there they were, on a 
platform of sticks—three white downy lumps, with pale yellow legs 
and bill, the youngest only a day or two out of the shell: this the 
reward for a stiff, hard climb, the loss of a considerable quantity 
