175 



THE OOLOGIST. 



ridge and Pheasant Shooting," says: "I 

 have come across single Pheasants in 

 the open fields, among coveys of Part- 

 I'idges, at least four miles distant from 

 any woods or tliickets." 



Their food consists of various insects, 

 seeds, acorns, grains, berries, buds, etc. 

 In winter, when everything else is cov- 

 ered with snow, they often live entirely 

 upon the buds of the Kalviia lutifolia. 



I have found them in the vines, eat- 

 ing the small chicken grape, of which 

 they seem to be very fond. 



Wm. H. Fisher, 

 Baltimore, Md. 



Hawks and Theii* Nests- 



The long lane which came down 

 from the woods pasture among the hills 

 was enclosed by dilapidated fences, 

 whosa mouldering rails, overgrown by 

 trumpet creepers and corners tilled 

 with miniature wildernesses of sumach 

 and sassafras, contrasted strongly with 

 the highly cultivated fields on either 

 side. Relies of the original forest 

 growth and outlawed plants, banished 

 from the well tilled farms, found a last 

 I'etreat here, and struggling together 

 for standing room on the fertile soil, 

 fought out the battle of life undisturb- 

 ed, except by the occasional passage of 

 a few cattle, who never stopped to 

 browse but kept on to the rich expanse 

 of blue grass beyond. 



A single tree had been spared in the 

 clearing of the land and still stood, 

 towering in solitary grandeur above 

 the undergrowth, its apparent size 

 doubled by its isolation. It was a 

 honey locust, hummiug like a great in- 

 strument of music with the buzz of the 

 insects its sweetness attracted, but 

 guarded by a formidable chevaux de- 

 frise of many spiked thorns against the 

 too familiar advance of unwelcome 

 visitors. 



Lying in the shade of the budding 



elders, with books and wild flowers- 

 tucked between the lichen-grown rails 

 of the fence, where they would be safe 

 from the sportive winds of early May, 

 I lazily read the latest work on birds. 

 A rustle of broad wings drew my at- 

 tention and I looked up in time to see 

 a Sharp-shinned Hawk just settling up- 

 on her nest in the great locust. The- 

 wild blood of the naturalist stirred 

 within me and every nerve tingled. 

 That nest was mine — at least to study. 



Approaching the great tree I walked 

 around it, surveyed it from all points 

 of view, then climbing upon the fence, 

 peered longingly up at the branches, 

 but found no encouragement thei'e. 

 Armed at every point, it confronted me 

 on all sides with a fierce array of brist- 

 ling bayonets. The site of that Hawk's- 

 nest was impregnable. I might as well 

 assault the fortress of Gibraltar. 



A faded bit of dried skin clinging to 

 one of the thorns showed where a 

 Shrike had impaled some luckless 

 mouse the previous winter and to draw 

 my mind from my disappointmeut I 

 thought of the Lanius horealis, that 

 dashing buccaneer who scorns our en- 

 ervating summers, but in winter comes 

 down from his northern land to reap a 

 rich harvest of mice and sparrows. 

 Dashing yet dainty, gay and reckless, 

 he ranks bravest of the brave, and, his 

 size considered, his courage surpasses 

 that of the flerce Hawk in the nest 

 overhead. 



Returning to mv book 1 read that 

 "the nest of the Sharp-shinned Hawk' 

 Accipiter fusciis, is usually situated in a 

 low pine." "i^owV Did my author 

 mean to insult me? "Although so 

 often found now they were rarely dis- 

 covered by the earlier ornithologists. 

 Audubon met with but three, and 

 neither Wilson nor Nuttall ever saw 

 one." Uncheered by this poor consola- 

 tion I wearily sneaked away. 



Next day 1 returned to the locust trae 

 carrying a light cotton rope attached to 



