The Sharp-shinned Hawk 



Sharp-shin. An unwonted stir in the brush suggests to him that birds are 

 about and he hurries forward. Occasionally, then, the observer gets a 

 perfect view of the Sharp-shin as it comes unexpectedly into sight over 

 some woodland opening, and takes a curious turn about overhead, dis- 

 playing as it sails the finely barred pattern of its wing-linings, and its long 

 square-ended tail; but oftener, the bird is aware of your presence in ad- 

 vance, and keeps warily out of range. It is equally at home in the open 

 or in the woodland fastnesses, and I have on several occasions been nearly 

 flown into by a Sharp-shin intent upon following some woodland path. 

 Recovery, however, is instant, and the bird does not tarry to say "beg 

 pardon." It is sometimes felt, but rarely seen, in the neighborhood of the 

 poultry house, and it is quite equal to carrying off a chick or a young pullet. 

 A classic painting, doubtless authoritative, depicts a Sharp-shin with 

 talons deep sunk in a dying Flicker, but I was much instructed in noting, 

 last fall, October 15th it was, a desperate struggle which was being enacted 

 on a boulder-strewn and oak-sprinkled hillside near Santa Barbara. The 

 place was full of Red-shafted Flickers {Colaptes cafer collaris), recently 

 arrived, and a party of Sharp-shinned Hawks, also newcomers, were doing 

 their aceipitrine utmost to catch one of them. The Flickers screamed 



Taken in Idaho 



THE PIN-FEATHER STAGE 



Photo by Rust 

 l66l 



