Some Notes on Our Native Birds. 25 
attacking the hawks, and that the latter were endeavoring 
to get out of their reach by mounting higher, inasmuch as 
the crow is ordinarily in no sense a high flyer. As the 
hawks arose in their circling flight several of the crows, 
mounting rapidly abo\Je them, would dart down at the backs 
of their enemies. Occasionally, when thus attacked, I could 
sec a sudden swaying movement on the part of the hawk, 
such as a blow upon one of his outstretched wings would 
naturally produce. There was no counter-attack upon the 
part of the larger birds; they simply circled higher. 
Before long the greater part of the crows, as they were 
already far above their ordinary flight, descended and set¬ 
tled in the tops of the trees. But a dozen or so angry and 
venturesome fellows still kept up their attacks. One of 
the hawks seemed to be an especial object of antipathy, 
for the other, sliding off to the north as he mounted, in a 
short time was left alone by his assailants. This attacking 
squad gradually dropped off, one by one, until, when they 
were so high up as to be with difficulty kept within vision, 
only two courageous crows were left, and as one of them 
began to descend I queried whether or not the hawk would 
not turn the tables and pounce upon the crow as the latter, 
in his downward plunge for the attack, of necessity, passed 
on below the former. But he attempted nothing of the 
kind, and it has occurred to me that perhaps the hawk 
cannot successfully strike a flying bird, and that something 
comparatively stationary must be the object of his attack. 
Be that as it may, the remaining crow, who may reason¬ 
ably be regarded as the leader of the flock in emergencies, 
after making one final plunge at the hawk, swiftly descended 
and rejoined his companions, who sent out their exultant 
caws of triumph at the discomfiture of the foe. I inferred 
that an attack — actual or threatened — upon some crow’s 
nest was the cause of all this to me unexpected exhibition 
of pugnacity. At any rate, my respect for old black crow 
was increased. 
One day, while walking down Willow Lane, which leads 
from the West Main Road to the Portsmouth railroad station. 
