s
catch. One could see it all in his attitudes, his starts and listenings,
his low growlings to himself. He was bigger than anybody else there, and
had no cause to be afraid; but there is a tremendous respect among all
animals for the chase law and the rights of others; and the big cat felt
it. He was hungry for fish; but, big as he was, his every movement
showed that he was ready to take to his heels before the first little
creature that should rise up and screech in his face: "This is mine!"
Later, when he grew accustomed to things and the fishhawks' generosity
in providing a feast for all who might come in from the wilderness
byways and hedges, he would come in boldly enough and claim his own; but
now, moving stealthily about, halting and listening timidly, he
furnished a study in animal rights that repaid in itself all the long
hours of watching.

But the hawks themselves were more interesting than their unbidden
guests. Ismaques, honest fellow that he is, mates for life, and comes
back to the same nest year after year. The only exception to this rule
that I know is in the case of a fishhawk, whom I knew well as a boy, and
who lost his mate one summer by an accident. The accident came from a
gun in the hands of an unthinking sportsman. The grief of Ismaques was
evident, even to the unthinking. One could hear it in the lonely,
questioning cry that he sent out over the still summer woods; and see it
in the sweep of his wings as he went far afield to other ponds, not to
fish, for Ismaques never fishes on his neighbor's preserves, but to
search for his lost mate. For weeks he lingered in the old haunts,
calling and searching everywhere; but at last the loneliness and the
memories were too much for him. He left the place long before the time
of migration had come; and the next spring a strange couple came to the
spot, repaired the old nest, and went fishing in the pond. Ordinarily
the birds respect each other's fishing grounds, and especially the old
nests; but this pair came and took possession without hesitation, as if
they had some understanding with the former owner, who never came back
again.

The old spruce on the mountain side had been occupied many years by my
fishing friends. As is usually the case, it had given up its life to its
bird masters. The oil from their frequent feastings had soaked into the
bark, following down and down, checking the sap's rising, till at last
it grew discouraged and ceased to climb