MarcH 3, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 333 


The Hawk and the Squirrel. 
Drivinc down the gentle slopes of Sonoma 
Mountain—the mountain is 2,340 feet high—we 
observed a very large hawk—the largest of the 
hawks, a large brown-spotted fellow, perhaps 
rightly an eagle—perched on the fence by the 
roadside. As we approached, he flew quarter- 
ing toward us, dove down at the foot of a 
rocky hill and arose in the air carrying a full- 
grown gray ground squirrel in his talons. This 
squirrel is nearly the size of the timber gray 
squirrel of the east, and looks very much like 
it, except that it usually has several light-colored 
bars on its sides, and old specimens are of a 
lighter earthy gray. It lives in holes in the 
ground, usually in dry, rocky places. 
The hawk flew about 50 yards, when the 
squirrel reached up and bit him on the leg. 
This squirrel has a very tough hide, sharp, 
strong teeth, and is a fighter from away back. 
The hawk at once released his talons, but the 
squirrel hung on with his teeth quite a little 
time, and then dropped to the ground and 
started for his rocky home. The hawk flew 
down 100 yards further and alighted on the 
fence. The squirrel was injured somewhat, but 
made very good time back. The hawk waited 
until he was within a few yards of home, when 
he darted for him again and arose with him. 
This last flight of the hawk showed with what 
wonderful velocity the great bird could pass 
through the air. The hawk had flown only 
two or three rods when the squirrel bit him 
again, and he dropped it. The poor squirrel 
was now badly used up, but he did his best to 
get under cover. The hawk again perched on 
the fence. The squirrel had reached within a 
few feet of its burrow when the hawk started 
for him again. This time he seized the now 
well nigh helpless squirrel securely with both 
feet and sat down on his tail—the hawk’s tail— 
stretched out his legs to their fullest extent and 
stretched his head and neck away back out of 
danger, and so held his victim until his struggles 
were over, and then he flew up on an old tree 
to enjoy his dinner; and the show was over. 
CALIFORNIA. 
A Tame Snipe. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
A domesticated surf snipe your readers may 
say is impossible, and yet it is an undisputed fact. 
Every shooter who goes to the sand dunes of the 
Great South Bay during the summer months, to 
sit for hours at the time in the broiling sun, lying 
in wait for the restless snipe, has probably seen 
the beautiful turnstone (Strepsilas interpres), 
commonly called the horse-foot snipe, coursing 
the sands alone or in company with one or two 
of its own species. One of these handsomely 
plumed birds fell a victim to my 12-bore, or 
rather was made a captive last July while crouch- 
ing behind a few highly-scented empty barrels 
thirty yards away from my stools, out on Rock- 
away Beach, better known as the “Point.” The 
bird appeared to be stunned, and was but very 
slightly injured on the tip of the right wing. 
I caught it after a brief chase, and, being struck 
by its extraordinary beauty, resolved to take it 
home and try to keep it alive. My friends as- 
sured me that my experiment would prove a dis- 
mal failure, as the snipe would not feed in cap- 
tivity, and furthermore, it would be very difficult 
to find out just what kind of food to offer it. 
Our noble turnstone was very reluctant the 
first three or four days to partake of any of the 
tempting morsels put before it—boiled rice, the 
white of a boiled egg, mockingbird food and meal 
worms; all these remained untouched. Then I 
tried an oyster on the half shell. The bird fairly 
pounced upon the bivalve as soon as placed within 
his reach, and devoured it in short order. 
Oysters, mockingbird food and an occasional 
meal worm form its regular bill of fare now. It 
seems to thrive on it, is growing fat and plump, 
and has become thoroughly tamed; it takes its 
food from my hand, and leaves and re-enters its 
cage whenever so inclined. Wo. ScuHort. 

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