THE SWIFTEST OF BRITISH HAWKS 65 



And meanwhile the Hobby continued to brood her young ! 



So at length I decided to run the risk of frightening her by descending 

 for a fresh supply of plates. As I began the journey the Hobby flew from the 

 nest, and returning to her perch on the dead branch commenced to scream at 

 intervals. 



As a matter of fact, she kept up this intermittent screaming for almost 

 twenty minutes, and hoping to reassure her, I walked out into the open as 

 though I were going away. Her screaming then ceased, and I decided after a 

 wait of half an hour to climb up to the camera, and to put another dark-slide 

 in position for a third exposure. When I was high enough in the beech to see 

 across to the nest I saw that the Hobby was covering the young again, and 

 was still peering in my direction. 



Now I had noticed that when I walked away into the open she had con- 

 tinued to sit on her dead branch perch until I stopped, and turned to look at 

 her, when she immediately flew off; and the idea of covering up my face — 

 which was seemingly so repellent to her — suddenly occurred to me. 



I consequently snapped off some beech boughs, and sticking some of them 

 in the band of the disreputable felt hat that I was wearing, and allowing others 

 to hang down from under it over my face, I continued my journey to the camera. 



This ruse of course, seems at first to be exceedingly ridiculous, but we 

 have heard of camouflage effects having been employed successfiiHy on other 

 and more serious occasions, and it might, at least, lessen the chances of the 

 Hobby being unduly terrified. 



In any case, the plan was completely successful, the only sort of protest 

 which the little hawk offered being a little feeble screaming. Having exposed 

 my two plates — without causing the Hobby the least anxiety — I realized that 

 I had stupidly left the last remaining dark-slide down below ! 



Once more I crept down the tree, this time without disturbing the Hobby, 

 got my dark-slide and returned to the camera — to find her still on the nest ! 

 So once again I got everything in readiness for an exposm-e, and clinging on 

 in a most uncomfortable position, and swajdng this way and that, I waited for 

 my little friend to do something interesting. 



After a wait of some twenty minutes, I heard the male uttering a protracted 

 call, very like that which a Kestrel makes when he brings food for the female. 

 She answered him at once, and, leaving the nest, flew to him as he sat on a 

 branch with a small bird in his talons. 



This she took from him, and returning with it to the nest commenced to 

 tear off small pieces, which she distributed amongst her little family. When 

 it was all finished she cleaned her beak on the edge of the nest, and then shuffled 

 forward as though to brood the young ones. I noticed, however, that two of 

 them continued to peck at her beak in a persistent way as though not satisfied 

 with the amount of food they had received. The old Hobby seemed to under- 



