Young but Independent. 
West Chester, Pa., June 17 . — Editor Forest 
and Stream: I am sending a photograph I suc¬ 
ceeded in getting May 3 of a young sparrow 
hawk. He had evidently strayed from home and 
was picked up by a farmer’s helper, near the 
historic Brandywine. He fought as hard as he 
knew how, . on first introduction, but quieted 
down soon when he found he was not being 
hurt, and posed for his picture within quarter 
of an hour after being taken out of a box in 
which he had been carried. A. P. 
Cuckoos and Martins. 
R.vleigh. N. C., June 19 .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: People up North would be amazed at 
the faith a great many of the negroes have in 
the American cuckoo, which they all call the 
“rain crow.” They believe it accurately foretells 
the coming of rain and say it has a rather dif¬ 
ferent cry which announces that the rain is near 
at hand. I have been where these birds are 
more or less plentiful for years and they cry 
any time. After giving their cry once or twice 
they are very apt to fly to another tree, and 
seated on a limb among thick foliage, they again 
give the cry, and so on. 
I notice in Forest and Stream that the mar¬ 
tins, which here are generally housed in gourds, 
are sometimes troubled by English sparrows. 
This is not the case here. The English sparrow 
has spread in the country somewhat and they 
have been seen in the wheat fields eating wheat, 
but paying no attention to insects, while the 
martins are busy looking after hawks, etc. The 
darkeys have a phrase, “Pll go as straight as a 
martin to his gourd,” their idea being that this 
bird flies in an air-line to his home, but this is 
not always true, as he often cuts all sorts of 
capers in the air. He is the most fearless bird 
we have, second to him being the mockingbird. 
Both these birds attack hawks, buzzards and 
crows; in fact, are not afraid of anything. I 
have often seen a mockingbird whirl like a 
cyclone into a bunch of English sparrows and 
almost throw them in a fit. The martins and 
the mockingbirds do not fight. 
The gourds look very picturesque, hanging 
from supports placed across a tall pole. Some¬ 
times a tree with its limb trimmed somewhat 
is put to this use. Sometimes the pole is very 
elaborately painted in various colorS and so are 
the gourds. The martins in this section will 
actually ride a hawk or a buzzard, sometimes 
going out of sight and presently coming back 
like a flash. They do their work by always 
keeping above the big bird they are after. They 
have been known to fight owls which they find 
in trees and mockingbirds have been seen doing 
the same thing. 
The catbird, the mockingbird’s cousin, is al¬ 
most as sweet a singer and is almost as plucky 
as the mocker, but will not go far after birds 
he dislikes. On one occasion three crows were 
seen after an owl in a tree and they worried 
the big fellow nearly to death, but suddenly they 
flew away as a flight of mockingbirds came up 
and these swooped and dashed at the owl, sev¬ 
eral times hitting him on the back of the head 
apparently, until they drove him away. 
I was talking with a darkey about his belief 
in rain crows and of bad luck on account of 
owls and that sort of thing, and he gave what 
he thought a most convincing statement by de¬ 
claring that anybody who did not believe in 
these things might as well not believe about 
“planting Irish ’taters in de dark er de moon.” 
Ered. a. Olds. 
The Quairs Call. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
During its serial publication I read J. W. 
Schultz’s “My Life as an Indian” and was 
charmed with the tale. 
His papers “In Arizona,” now being published 
in this journal, will find many eager and appre¬ 
ciative readers. I am particularly interested, 
since some years ago I went over a portion of 
the ground he speaks of. 
During my trips to the far West in my travel¬ 
ing I usually stopped .with my friend. Perry 
Williams, at Maricopa, a station on the Southern 
Pacific R. R., and in the immediate vicinity 
found that fine quail—Gambel’s quail—and in 
numbers astonishing. They are not now so 
plentiful between Maricopa and Phoenix. 
Some twelve or fifteen years ago Si. Williams 
—Perry’s brother—and I fitted out for a trip 
down the Gila River valley to visit the Indian 
villages, buy baskets and enjoy the quail shoot¬ 
ing. We had a great experience not only in 
going through the country, but found it very in¬ 
teresting to visit the Indians in their homes. 
When Mr. Schultz speaks of the birds com¬ 
ing to drink, I am reminded of a similar scene. 
A mile west of Maricopa stands a huge water 
tank for the Southern Pacific R, R. engines. 
There is an outside shell, or sheathing, to pro¬ 
tect the tank proper, and this shell on the oppo¬ 
site side from the tracks was broken in about 
fifteen or twenty feet from the ground, afford¬ 
ing to anyone secreted in this break an extremely 
short range view of the ground below. A leak 
in the side and bottom of the tank permitted 
enough water to flow out to invite the birds to 
drink. One Sunday morning, late in May, I 
ensconced myself in that break and saw the 
birds come to drink. The quail came almost in 
swarms, the mother birds with their broods—I 
dare say a hundred of them—each family appar¬ 
ently waiting its turn to get to the water. In 
the interval of going to drink the cock birds 
engaged in a series of battles more or less harm¬ 
less. 
There were doves by hundreds, mockingbirds, 
cactus wrens and an occasional road runner with 
his saucy independent mirth-provoking attitude. 
Eor an hour or more I watched these birds. It 
was not only extremely interesting, fascinating 
and enchanting to the bird lover, but instruc¬ 
tive as well. Mr. Schultz likens the quail call 
to “Mackfak-en—mackrakergee.” The Indians 
in the country about Maricopa and Phoenix and 
in the river valley hqve named the quail “kocker- 
schan” or “kockerschee” because the call re¬ 
sembles this, repeated two or three times. It 
sounded like this to me and can very well be 
so. for it seems to be a fact that bird notes and 
“talk” sound different to different ears. The 
call, as Mr. Schultz describes it, is very comical 
and sounds as the bird looks. I wonder if Mr. 
Schultz is going to Arizona next winter. I 
would like to know this. W. L. Colville. 
