74 
THE MISSISSIPPI KITE. 
summer 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 grandijiord) 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. 
Ear.ly 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 
