A Familiar Sparrow Hawk 49 had been at work within a few feet of the box. Not three minutes later the carpenter returned and struck a couple of resounding blows with his hammer. Instantly the Hawk swooped out, but only to seek a perch on a tree close by. As soon as the carpenter finished his work the Hawk promptly returned to the box. On no other occasion, so far as I could learn, did he ever leave it before morning, once he had taken up his position inside. He became perfectly accustomed to the presence of people near and directly beneath it. The noise of conversation and walking about, abrupt movements, even the play of children, did not, apparently, disturb him in the least. The only move- ment I ever detected on his part, when he was in his box, was a slight quivering of wings and tail. But he would not enter the box if any- body were moving about close at hand. He would wait near by until promenaders and romping children were at a comfortable distance, and then he would dart under the piazza roof. His manner of approaching and entering his box was always the same. There was a halt upon a wire, a descent to the corner capital, then a quick flight upwards. He went in through the opening at the side. Whenever I saw him go out, he went with a swoop. He had several preferred perches, within fifty yards or thereabouts of his box, where he was always to be seen for longer or shorter periods before he went to roost, and often at other hours. One of the perches was an old stump, ten or twelve feet high, perhaps twenty yards distant from the rail- ing of the piazza. He also perched upon the roof of the hotel and upon its outbuildings. On January 16 I found the Hawk in his box at twenty minutes past seven o'clock in the morning, but he left as I took up my position beneath him. Here, then, was a night's rest of about fourteen hours. The morn- ing was overcast and dark. But the next morning was fine. The Hawk was in his box at seven o'clock. I sat down within a few yards. At twelve minutes past seven I heard movements in the box, which continued until! a quarter past seven, when the Hawk went out. Next day, January 18, he went out at ten minutes past seven. On January 19, a fine, warm day, he went to roost at twenty minutes to six, while I sat on the piazza within twenty yards of his box. On January 20, for the first time since he attracted my attention, he was absent for the night. He was also absent during the three succeed- ing nights. On one of these nights he twice attempted to enter, but desisted, I thought, because there were too many people moving about near him. On January 24 he went to roost at twenty minutes to six. On January 25 he went in at a quarter past four. This was the earliest hour at which I ever saw him enter. A cold rain was falling at the time.
