64 THE ZOOLOGIST. 



and I could also sometimes just see the white-fluffed young as 

 they moved and stretched up in the nest. 



At 8.33 there is the cry of the male again, and on its being 

 repeated, after a minute, the female flies to join him. At 8.37 

 she returns, and at once begins tearing up what must have been 

 brought her (though, as before, I cannot see it), and feeding the 

 chicks with it. It is, however, a mutual meal, for she often 

 swallows a gobbet herself. It takes about seven minutes, after 

 which the hawk stands on the nest's rim for nearly a quarter of 

 an hour, and at 9.5 covers the chicks, first stepping carefully 

 over them to the opposite side, and standing there a moment 

 or two. 



I should mention that a little before this (at 8.15) I had 

 accidentally disturbed the sitting bird. She was away for a 

 quarter of an hour, but, although she might very well in that 

 time have caught a bird, she came back without anything, pre- 

 ferring to wait for the male. Yet when he came she ate some 

 of what he brought, herself, which shows that she was hungry. 

 This illustrates how established is the differentiation in the 

 parts played by the two sexes in the care of the young, and 

 with what confidence the female relies on the male for her 

 supplies. 



At 9.50 and 55 and, again, at 10, there is the cry of the 

 male in the plantation, and just after the last time his wife flies 

 to him. I see her alight in the tree where, by his cry, he is, 

 and then come the sounds of their rejoicing together. In a 

 minute or two she flies back and feeds the chicks, with sometimes 

 a bit for herself just as before — all plain and distinct, the little 

 white heads bobbing up. At 10.10 it is over, and at 10.15 the 

 hen covering the chicks again. She stood on the usual side of 

 the nest and on the rim and stepped over to the opposite one 

 before covering, as before, no plucking, as far as I could see. 



At 11.15 I hear the cry of the male, as I think, in the plan- 

 tation, but turning the glasses on to the nest, find it empty. 

 The bird must have left it within the last minute or two. 

 Again, at 11.20, 11.30, and 11.35, I hear the cry and after this, 

 at intervals, in the plantation, till about 11.50, when the bird 

 flies swiftly on to the nest, from the direction opposite to the 

 usual one, and alights on the corresponding side, upon the rim, 



