﻿A Familiar Sparrow Hawk 49 



had been at work within a few feet of the box. Not three minutes later 

 the carpenter returned and struck a couple of resounding blows with his 

 hammer. Instantly the Hawk swooped out, but only to seek a perch on a 

 tree close by. As soon as the carpenter finished his work the Hawk 

 promptly returned to the box. 



On no other occasion, so far as I could learn, did he ever leave it before 

 morning, once he had taken up his position inside. He became perfectly 

 accustomed to the presence of people near and directly beneath it. The 

 noise of conversation and walking about, abrupt movements, even the play 

 of children, did not, apparently, disturb him in the least. The only move- 

 ment I ever detected on his part, when he was in his box, was a slight 

 quivering of wings and tail. But he would not enter the box if any- 

 body were moving about close at hand. He would wait near by until 

 promenaders and romping children were at a comfortable distance, and then 

 he would dart under the piazza roof. His manner of approaching and 

 entering his box was always the same. There was a halt upon a wire, 

 a descent to the corner capital, then a quick flight upwards. He went 

 in through the opening at the side. Whenever I saw him go out, he 

 went with a swoop. 



He had several preferred perches, within fifty yards or thereabouts of his 

 box, where he was always to be seen for longer or shorter periods before he 

 went to roost, and often at other hours. One of the perches was an old 

 stump, ten or twelve feet high, perhaps twenty yards distant from the rail- 

 ing of the piazza. He also perched upon the roof of the hotel and upon its 

 outbuildings. 



On January 16 I found the Hawk in his box at twenty minutes past 

 seven o'clock in the morning, but he left as I took up my position beneath 

 him. Here, then, was a night's rest of about fourteen hours. The morn- 

 ing was overcast and dark. But the next morning was fine. The Hawk 

 was in his box at seven o'clock. I sat down within a few yards. At twelve 

 minutes past seven I heard movements in the box, which continued until! 

 a quarter past seven, when the Hawk went out. Next day, January 18, he 

 went out at ten minutes past seven. 



On January 19, a fine, warm day, he went to roost at twenty minutes 

 to six, while I sat on the piazza within twenty yards of his box. 



On January 20, for the first time since he attracted my attention, he 

 was absent for the night. He was also absent during the three succeed- 

 ing nights. On one of these nights he twice attempted to enter, but 

 desisted, I thought, because there were too many people moving about 

 near him. 



On January 24 he went to roost at twenty minutes to six. On January 

 25 he went in at a quarter past four. This was the earliest hour at which 

 I ever saw him enter. A cold rain was falling at the time. 



