74 THE MISSISSIPPI KITE. 



mer residence; when numberless insects, cramped in their hanging shells, 

 are impatiently waiting for the full expansion of their wings; when the 

 vernal flowers, so welcome to all, swell out their bursting leaflets, and the 

 rich-leaved Magnolia opens its pure blossoms to the Humming Bird; — then 

 look up, and you will see the Mississippi Kite, as he comes sailing over the 

 scene. He glances towards the earth with his fiery eye; sweeps along, now 

 with the gentle breeze, now against it; seizes here and there the high-flying 

 giddy bug, and allays his hunger without fatigue to wing or talon. Suddenly 

 he spies some creeping thing, that changes, like the chameleon, from vivid 

 green to dull brown, to escape his notice. It is the red-throated panting 

 lizard that has made its way to the highest branch of a tree in quest of food. 

 Casting upwards a sidelong look of fear, it remains motionless, so well does 

 it know the prowess of the bird of prey: but its caution is vain; it has been 

 perceived, its fate is sealed, and the next moment it is swept away. 



The Mississippi Kite thus extends its migrations as high as the city of 

 Memphis, on the noble stream whose name it bears, and along our eastern 

 shores to the Carolinas, where it now and then breeds, feeding the while on 

 lizards, small snakes, and beetles. At times, congregating to the number of 

 twenty or more, these birds are seen sweeping around some tree, catching 

 the large locusts which abound in those countries at an early part of the 

 season, and reminding one of the Chimney Swallows, which are so often 

 seen performing similar evolutions, when endeavouring to snap off the little 

 dried twigs of which their nests are composed. 



Early in May, the thick-leaved Bay-Tree {Magnolia grandijlora), affords 

 in its high tops a place of safety, in which the Hawk of the South may raise 

 its young. These are out by the end of July, and are fed by the parent 

 birds until well practised in the art of procuring subsistence. About the 

 middle of August, they all wing their way southward. 



The affection which the old birds display towards their young, and the 

 methods which they occasionally employ to insure the safety of the latter, 

 are so remarkable, that, before I proceed to describe their general habits, I 

 shall relate a case in which I was concerned. 



Early one morning, whilst I was admiring the beauties of nature, as the 

 vegetable world lay embalmed in dew, I heard the cry of a bird that I 

 mistook for that of a Pewee Flycatcher. It was prolonged, I thought, as if 

 uttered in distress. After looking for the bird a long time in vain, an object 

 which I had at first supposed to be something that had accidentally lodged 

 in a branch, attracted my attention, as I thought I perceived it moving. It 

 did move distinctly, and the cry that had ceased from the time when I reached 

 the spot where I stood, was repeated, evidently coming from the object in 

 view. I now took it for a young Chuck-Will's-Widow, as it sat lengthwise 



