THE SPARROW-HAWK 163 



" birding," they may safely be supposed to get a morning's 

 sport very much of the sort that is now to be described. 



Ruby looks very murderous as she sits with her thin yellow 

 fingers gripping the arch of yew which forms her bow-perch on 

 the lawn. The warm autumnal sun lights up her feathers in 

 their true colours of slatey brown on the back, and barred white 

 on the breast. Very keen and pitiless is her yellow eye as it 

 turns quickly towards each spot where the slightest unusual 

 movement attracts her notice. Presently, however, all her 

 attention is concentrated on one object, as her master steps 

 across the lawn. In a moment she is on to the outstretched 

 fist, where a well-known reward is almost always found. The 

 leash is untied ; we are beckoned to come on, and we start at 

 once, accompanied by the terrier Sandy, with a knowing look 

 on his shrewd face. It is a warm still day, and we go straight 

 to the big meadow, where in the bottom hedge we put out a 

 thrush. Ruby is off the fist like lightning, and gains fast on 

 the quarry. Just as he turns to get into the hedge the hawk 

 makes a dash, which very nearly succeeds, but the thrush has 

 just managed to swerve out of the way, and, running along and 

 through the hedge, escapes on the other side, while Ruby 

 betakes herself to a tree hard by. Before she is called down a 

 blackbird is sighted near the same tree, and we form a line so 

 as to drive him towards the hawk. This, however, does not 

 accord with the views of our black friend in the bush, who 

 resists our well-meant endeavours, and tries to work his way 

 past us away from the tree. Fortunately there are enough of 

 us to frustrate his efforts, and prevent him from shirking along 

 the hedge. He is obliged to take a line across the field, and as 

 soon as he is well away from the fence Ruby is up to him. 

 In shifting from the stoop he dashes himself against the 

 ground, and even by this violent effort does not wholly escape, 

 as the hawk hits him hard as she passes overhead. He picks 

 himself up at once and makes for the hedge, but is just too late, 

 as Ruby grabs him just as he is entering. 



Passing on to another long hedge we soon get a flight 

 at another blackbird, which puts in before the hawk gets up. 

 Ruby will not wait, but goes on to an oak at the end of the 

 hedge. We beat on, with a view to drive him towards the 

 hawk, and find that there is more than one blackbird in front 

 of us. One of these is driven out, and Ruby makes a fine stoop 

 at him out of the tree, but fails to hit him, and he puts in. After 

 several tries he is persuaded to fly out into the open, and make 



