The marsh hawk, sailing low over the meadow, is already seeking the first slimy life that awakes.
And in the crystal clear air overhead, swept clean of all city soot, soared a marsh hawk or two and an osprey.
Next a marsh hawk in brown plumage comes skimming over the grass.
As they circled, both of them showed a snowy patch over the rump, the field-mark of the marsh hawk.
A much bigger splashing drew me quietly through the bushes to find a marsh hawk giving himself a Christmas souse.
The marsh hawk is on the wing again, and while looking at him I descry a second hawk, too far away to be made out.
Day after day and week after week as I look through the big, open barn door I see a marsh hawk beating about low over the fields.
The marsh hawk comes nearer, and I see the strong yellow tinge of his plumage, especially underneath.
The marsh hawk was nineteen inches in length, with a long tail, pointed wings, and Owl-like face.
The other Hawks are of great value, one of which, the marsh hawk, being regarded as perhaps more useful than any other.