BurNS—Own Broap-wiNGEp Hawk. 221 
Captivity had unfitted it for the strenuous life, and the deep 
snow prevented it picking up anything at all; returned to its 
old quarters in a highly excited state, it nevertheless broke its 
fast very willingly 
This hawk’s eyesight appears better in the dark than most 
diurnal birds, it was.enabled to pounce upon and devour a 
bird thrown near it, long after twilight in the gloomy loft. 
When it was about seven months old, | gave it a five days fast 
before introducing an ancient Bantam rooster, which it refused 
to touch, so I placed the fowl to roost upon the pole alongside 
of it that evening and the next day removed the chicken. Ten 
days later the Bantam was again placed on a bench within three 
feet of the hawk. Buteo observed it intently for awhile and 
then deliberately walked over, giving it such a clout with its 
claws that the rooster set up a despairing cackle as it scuttled 
to the far end of the bench, while the hawk retired to its first 
position. Again Buteo advanced with outstretched neck and 
raised crest, little Dick believing his time had indeed arrived, 
made a great outcry, but the hawk took wing flying backward 
and forward over him, making a downward feint just above 
the ancient creature. time and again, adding to his alarm with- 
out doing any harm; and another day found him without in- 
jury. Meat, however, was growing scarce, the English sparrow 
no longer came upon the place, the enforced fast of the hawk 
sometimes extended for days together and the bantam con- 
stantly underfoot in the stable, so in February I found Buteo 
perched upon the dead body of the little fowl and seemed quite 
proud of its feat in bringing down such bulky game. It was 
an unfortunate kill, however, and resulted in the hawk’s own 
death a few days later 
My second captives, taken in 1907, were of opposite sex, 
designated Nip and Tuck, the latter being the male as found 
later, developed an altogether untamable disposition. I was 
compelled to wear gloves when handling them, and even then 
was occasionally cut through the leather. Strange to say, 
neither one uttered the characteristic whistle throughout the 
following winter and not until April 30, 1908, when about 
