3S8 



Bird - Lore 



tree, and then flew to the woods on the 

 right, not an Evening Grosbeak nor a 

 Redpoll was seen. We walked a mile be- 

 yond where we had seen the Grosbeaks, 

 but, finding nothing, turned toward home. 

 When we were passing a cornfield a flock 

 of birds with white wings, bordered with 

 black, rose from it and flew over a large 

 knoll. We skirted the knoll cautiously, ex- 

 pecting to see the birds, but all was quiet. 

 We were about to go back to the road 

 when the birds again rose, circled and 

 lighted. Even now it was difificult to see 

 them, for they seemed to crawl along the 

 ground, taking advantage of every clod of 

 earth, every stump of cornstalk, and, when 

 not in flight, presented a blackish, mottled 

 appearance. We crept nearer and nearer 

 until once more the flock rose higher and 

 higher and in a line slanting to the west. 

 They gradually grew smaller and smaller 

 until they were like specks in the gray 

 clouds, showing how they came to be called 

 'Snow-flakes.' 



In June we were attracted to Sugar 

 Loaf Mountain by the report that the 

 Duck Hawk was nesting there. Going up 

 the mountain, we heard the Ovenbird, the 

 Veery, the Black-throated Blue and the 

 Black-throated Green Warblers. As soon 

 as we reached the top of the mountain we 

 heard the cries of the two adult Duck 

 Hawks and saw them circling about. We 

 were not certain whether the young Duck 

 Hawk, of which reports had reached us, 

 was still in the nest or not, so we walked 

 around the top of the mountain, inadver- 

 tently going near the spot where the Duck 

 Hawk nested the year before. We found 

 a Junco's nest on the ground, sheltered by 

 a low growth of bushes. We made our way 

 back to the Mountain House to find out 

 more about the young Duck Hawk. Mr. 

 Fisher, who has charge of the place, kindly 

 offered to guide us to the nest, which was 

 really only a grassy place on a ledge of 

 rock. From this shelf there was a sheer 

 drop of 150 feet. There was a fairly com- 

 fortable descent to within a few feet of the 

 young bird, and we viewed him from this 

 point of vantage, while the adult birds 

 circled high and then low, uttering their 



peculiar cries. The young bird was weird 

 but innocent looking. He seemed a bit 

 helpless, sitting on such a small shelf of 

 rock with us, whom he deemed foes, in 

 front of him, and that drop of 150 feet 

 back of him. Unable as j^et to fly, it was 

 no wonder that at times he added his pro- 

 test to the quacking of his parents. 



I was most impressed by the young 

 Duck Hawk's bill, which was not only 

 powerful and hooked, but sky-blue in color. 

 The head was light, with a very broad, 

 dark, V-shaped mark on each side. This 

 V-shaped marking comes to a point in 

 front of a perfectly round eye, which gives 

 the head an odd appearance. 



The Duck Hawk's diet is not a common 

 thing, for Mr. Fisher found a leg-ring of 

 the Carrier Pigeon in what serves for a 

 nest. In return, the young Duck Hawk 

 was banded. 



The flash of a Tanager in the hemlock 

 on top of the mountain added a note of 

 color to our day. The most delightful part 

 of bird trips is that the pleasure found may 

 be lived again at will. As William Beebe 

 has expressed it for all outdoor people, 

 "I stored a memory — one which I could 

 draw upon at need." — Florence Mabel 

 Pease, Conway, Mass. 



U-Boat Methods in Nature 



As I carefully made my way through the 

 woods to the shore of the little lake, my 

 mind intent on approaching within camera- 

 shooting distance of some unwary little 

 family of Teal or Mallards, I noticed a 

 female Coot contentedly preening herself 

 in the open water just beyond the rushes. 

 Laying herself flat on the slightly rippling 

 surface of the water, she rolled over and 

 over, lazily stretching legs and wings, a 

 picture of utter contentment. 



My eyes, roving across the lake, where 

 spray flashing in the sunlight indicated 

 more busy water-fowl, were quickly 

 brought back to the scene in the fore- 

 ground when, the Coot with a frightened, 

 guttural 'squawk' raised her wings and 

 noisily pattered up the lake a few rods. 

 The ripples had scarcely started to widen 



