A VISIT TO A REDT AILED HAWK'S NEST, 



High up in a towering hemlock which stood one-third of its length 

 above the other trees of the forest, a pair of redtailed hawks had built 

 their nest. Year after year it grew as the birds returned and repaired 

 it ; and year after year it was the home of a happy family. High above 

 the cares and troubles of the world ; unmolested, save by the sun and 

 shadows, it cradled its restless brood in summer, sheltered the squir- 

 rels in autumn and rocked the little owls in winter. Deep in the roomy 

 crevices many a brown nut was hidden by deft little paws, and over the 

 openings spiders spun their webs, like sentinels to guard the stores 

 within. 



One sunny morning, just as the crows were nesting and the leaf buds 

 bursting in the soft air of early spring, I happened to be near this tree, 

 glass in hand, watching the newly-arrived warblers and the growing in- 

 sect life about me. Little spiders were hanging their first webs in the 

 sun, newly-matured flies sported on crisp new wings, and the black ants 

 in a dead tree nearby kept dropping down little bits of decayed wood. 

 Chipmunks raced and chattered on the dry leaves and gazed curiously 

 from vantage-points on stumps and rocks. The crow cawed and called 

 from the spicy pine tops back of me ; and the broody call of the female 

 on her nest seemed to take in, from the air and sunlight, a sound of 

 dreamy softness. Everything was peaceful and happy. All of a sud- 

 den the loud, quick scream of a hawk came from over head. It sent 

 the warblers helter-skelter and the chipmunks to their holes. Soon it 

 was repeated, and from away off in the distance an answer came float- 

 ing back as though born of the wind. A swift moving shadow shot past 

 and I saw a hawk alight in the tall hemlock ; and soon it was followed 

 by another, which settled in the same tree. I listened and waited. It 

 seemed as though the sunlight would betray me or the soft breeze of 

 springtime would carry tidings of my presence to that lone treetop and 

 its tenants would be gone. But no, for soon I heard the loud voice of 

 the male bird calling and crooning a love-song, so wild and weird, 

 and fantastic that it seemed as though the winds and wilderness had 

 lent their voices to it and made it like themselves. For fully an hour I 

 listened to it, but without seeing much. Then both birds left and I 

 ventured out. Great was my satisfaction when I saw the nest, and for 

 the next few days I watched it closely. Though I tried to keep out of 

 sight as much as possible, the hawks, in some mysterious way seemed 



