and at
last, when she found herself falling backwards, with a desperate effort
drew herself in.

There was another sparrow hawk family across the road from my ranch. In
riding by one day, I saw a youngster looking out from the nest hole with
big frightened eyes. Was it the only child, or was it monopolizing the
fresh air while its brothers were smothering below? Another day there
were two heads in the window; one was the round domed, top of a fluffy
nestling whose eyes expressed only vague fear; but the other was the
strongly marked head of an old sparrow hawk, who eyed us with keen
intelligence. As I stared up, the young one drew back into the hole
behind its parent, probably in obedience to her command; and the old
bird bent such an anxious inquiring gaze upon me that I took the hint
and rode away to save the poor mother worry.

These were not the only hawks of the valley. Once, seeing one of the
large Buteos winging its way with nesting sticks hanging from its claws,
I turned Canello into the field after it, following till it lit in the
top of a high sycamore. The pair were both gathering material. Sometimes
they flew with the twigs in their claws; sometimes in their bills; now
they would fly directly to the nest, again circle around the tree before
alighting. When one was at work, the other sometimes flew up and soared
so high in the sky he looked no larger than a sparrow hawk. In swooping
to the ground suddenly, the hawks would hollow in their backs, stick up
their tails, drop their legs for ballast, and so let themselves come to
earth. While one of the birds was peacefully gathering sticks, two
blackbirds attacked it, apparently on general grounds, because it
belonged to a family that had been traduced since history began. To tell
the honest truth, I trembled a little myself at thought of what might
happen to some of my small tenants, though I reassured myself by
remembering that the facts prove the maligned hawks much more likely to
eat gophers than birds.

In the back of the stub occupied by one of the sparrow hawks it was a
pleasure to find a flicker excavating its nest. Planting its claws
firmly in the hole with tail braced against the bark, the bird leaned
forward, thrusting its head in, over and again, as if feeding young. It
used its feet as a pivot, and swung itself in, farther and farther, as
it worked. Such gymnastics took strong feet, for the bird raised itself
by them each time. It worked like an au