NEW GLEANINGS IN OLD FIELDS 



tree near which I frequently passed in my walk. 

 Always, as I came near, I would hear this wild, shrill 

 plaint, made, I think, by the mother bird. Often 

 she would sit upon a branch in full view and utter 

 her ear-dividing protest. There were never any 

 signs about the nest that birds or poultry formed 

 part of the food of the young. It is said that this 

 hawk subsists principally upon insects and frogs. 

 When the young — two of them — were about two 

 thirds grown, they used to perch upon the edge of 

 the nest and upon one of the branches that held it 

 in place. 



One day I took a couple of bird enthusiasts there 

 to hear the cry of the mother hawk. We lingered 

 about for nearly an hour, and not a sound was heard 

 nor a parent hawk seen. Then I tried to stir up 

 the young, but without effect. They regarded us 

 intently, but made no move and uttered no cry. A 

 smaller tree grew beside the pine that held the nest. 

 Up this I climbed till within probably twenty-five 

 feet of the suspicious young; then I reached out my 

 foot and planted it upon a limb of the larger tree. 

 Instantly, as if the tree were a vital part of them- 

 selves, the young hawks took the alarm and launched 

 into the air. But the wings of one of them could not 

 long sustain him, and he came to the ground within 

 twenty yards of the foot of the tree. As we ap- 

 proached him his attitude of defense was striking, — 

 wings half spread, beak open, one foot raised, and 

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