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T he 
Migration 
of Hawks 
and Hawk 
Shooting 
By FRANK L. BAILEY 

JT may be of interest to many readers 
[ to know that hawks, familiarly 
known as the “hen” and “chicken” 
awk, migrate annually. I do not 
nean a few scattering birds here and 
there, but heavy migrations such as 
the ducks and geese make every spring 
ind fall. 
There’s a little seaport town, South 
darpswell, situated on Casco Bay, 
Maine, where I venture to say, not hun- 
lreds, but thousands of these birds 
ass a given point in a day’s flight, 
and there are many such points. In 
fact it is the same there for a distance 
pf several miles. At Brunswick, which 
is separated by only fourteen miles, a 
very few birds are seen, while in Port- 
and, a like distance, it is the same. 
The spring migration is extremely 
ight, scarcely noticeable, a single bird 
oeing encountered here and there in the 
woods, and I have often wondered what 
articular route they pursued during 
that time of the year. 
_ The heavy migration takes place in 
the fall; usually between the 10th of 
September and the 1st of December; 
the last week in September being the 
favored period. Another factor enters 
here, and that is the heavy north winds 
which come along about that time. 
Hawks will not fly in any perceptible 
number unless the wind is from the 
north and the stronger the better. 
Sometimes we would get a “three days 
norther” as the old salts called them, 
during which times the flight would be 
continuous. The stiffer the wind, the 
lower the flight. 
| HAVE seen them flying over a field 
” scarcely clearing the ground, while 
on lighter airs they flew much higher, 
and would circle upward and upward 
until they found an air-strata of suf- 
ficient strength to satisfy them, then 

Hawk and owl—sworn enemies 
they would strike off, always flying 
from east to west, never north to south 
over this particular part of the country 
as other birds do. 
I have never been able to conclude 
just why they followed this direction 
unless it is because that section of the 
coast line ran that way—they always 
followed the coast line closely, and if 
we look on the map we find the coast 
line running north and south, so I pre- 
sumae, eventually they fly south. 
I was not acquainted wih the dif- 
ferent families of hawks in those days, 
but a hawk was a hawk to me and the 
only good hawk was a dead one, so I 
acted accordingly. 
HAVE since learned that most of 
these vagrants were the marsh hawk, 
sharp skinned, Cooper, an occasional 
American goshawk, red-tailed, red- 
shouldered, broad-winged, pigeon hawk, 
sparrow hawk and American Osprey, 

The Account of 
an Old Time 
Hawk Hunt 
or fish hawk; the latter we seldom shot 
as the old saltwater fishermen told us 
that each hawk represented the soul 
of some dead sailor, and to shoot -one 
would bring bad luck; I do not remem- 
ber of seeing a duck hawk during the 
flights. 
E used to shoot at hawks at any 
distance up to a hundred yards 
and sometimes more. They appeared to 
harbor no fear of man. Many times I 
have stood in an open field and have 
the birds come directly over; or per- 
haps I would find that a certain hawk 
would pass either to the right or left 
of me, then I would run as fast as I 
could to head it off, many times getting 
the bird. 
I have shot at a hawk that was com- 
ing over me; miss, and the bird would 
go back seventy-five or a hundred 
yards; then it would cut several up- 
ward spirals gaining altitude with each 
turn until it estimated the height to be 
a safe one, then come directly over 
again; sometimes I would get it but 
more often it would be at a safe dis- 
tance. I have watched a hawk spiral 
into the air with ever-widening circles, 
mounting higher and higher until it was 
lost in the clouds. 
Y first shooting acquaintance with 
the hawk began when I was four- 
teen years of age and I did my hunting 
with a .22 cal. Flobert rifle. Of course 
I was unable to shoot them on the wing, 
although I tried many times to do so. 
I did, however, get a few as they lit on 
trees. From the little Flobert, I gradu- 
ated to an old single-barreled muzzle- 
loader with which I became a fair wing 
shot. How proud I was of that old gun 
and I considered myself a regular old- 
timer. I remember it was very exas- 
perating after downing a hawk, to be 
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