[Illustration:  Marsh Hawk.]

“A very honest statement,” said the Eagle.  “Acquitted!  Sharp-shinned Hawk, it is your turn.”

This little Hawk, only a foot long, was bluish-gray above and had a black tail barred with ashy; his white breast was banded with reddish-brown, and he had a keen, fierce eye.

“I have very little to say for myself,” he began.  “Everywhere in North America I am a cannibal.  I know I am small, but I can kill a bird bigger than myself, and I have a big brother who is a regular Chicken and Hen Hawk.  I hide my nest in the lengths of thick evergreens, or on a rocky ledge, and all the year round I take my own wherever I find it.  I prefer to prey on birds—­Dove or Sparrow, Robin or Thrush, song bird or Croaker—­all are alike to me.  I consider myself a true sportsman, and I do not like such tame game as mice or frogs.  I pounce or dart according to my pleasure; I can fly faster than any one of you, and few small birds escape my clutches.  Sometimes in winter I make my home near a colony of English Sparrows and eat them all for a change, just to see how it feels to be of some use to House People; but in spite of this I am a bold, bad bird, and as every one knows it I may as well say that I take pride in my reputation, and do not intend to reform!”

[Illustration:  Sharp-Shinned Hawk.]

“Guilty!” said the Eagle solemnly.  “Red-shouldered Hawk next.”

The Red-shouldered Hawk held up his head proudly and returned the Eagle’s gaze without flinching.  He was a fine muscular bird, standing a little under two feet high, with deep rusty-red shoulders and reddish-brown back, while his head, neck, and under parts were spotted and cross-barred with rusty and white.  He had a black tail crossed by half a dozen white bars.

[Illustration:  Red-Shouldered Hawk.]

“I am a Hawk of eastern North America, living from the great plains to the Atlantic coast, going northward to the British lands and southward to the warm-watered Gulf of Mexico.  I am often called Hen Hawk by those who speak without thinking, but in truth I am not much of a bird-thief, for a good reason.  I am a thoughtful bird, with the deliberate flight of a Night Owl, rather than the dash of my daylight brethren.  I clear the fields of mice and other gnawers, besides spiders, grasshoppers, and snails; while as a frog-lover, I am a veritable Frenchman.

“I am a faithful Hawk besides, and when I am protected will nest for a lifetime in the same woodland, if there is a marsh or spring near by to furnish my daily frogs.  I am faithful also to my mate through life.  I help her build the nest and rear our young.  If House People are kind to me, I can be a gentle friend to them, even in the trials of captivity; but if I suspect a stranger, he must look at me only at long range, heavy though my flight appears.

“So I say boldly that I am a useful bird and a good Citizen.  If you think a Hawk has stolen a pet Hen, look well before you shoot; and if he has rusty-red shoulders count yourself mistaken—­and let him go.”