“Mine,” began François, “was a bird-adventure, as you all see—though what kind of birds I’ve shot I can’t tell. One of them’s a hawk, I’m sure; but it’s a white hawk, and that I never saw before. The rest, I suppose, are white partridges. Everything appears to be white here. What are they, Luce?”

“You are right about this first,” answered Lucien, taking up one of the birds which François had brought back with him, and which was white all but a few spots of clove-brown upon its back. “This is a hawk, as you may tell, by its appearance, or rather I should say a ‘falcon,’ for you must know there is a difference.”

“What difference?” demanded François, with some eagerness of manner.

“Why the principal difference is the formation of their beaks or bills. The bills of the true falcons are stronger, and have a notch in the lower mandible answering to a tooth in the upper one. Their nostrils, too, are differently formed. But another point of distinction is found in their habits. Both feed on warm-blooded animals, and neither will eat carrion. In this respect the hawks and falcons are alike. Both take their prey upon the wing; but herein lies the difference. The hawks capture it by skimming along horizontally or obliquely, and picking it up as they pass; whereas the true falcons ‘pounce’ down upon it from above, and in a line nearly vertical.”

“Then this must be a true falcon,” interrupted François, “for I saw the gentleman do that very thing; and beautifully he did it, too.”

“It is a falcon,” continued Lucien; “and of the many species of hawks which inhabit North America—over twenty in all—it is one of the boldest and handsomest. I don’t wonder you never saw it before; for it is truly a bird of the Northern regions, and does not come so far south as the territory of the United States, much less into Louisiana. It is found in North Europe, Greenland, and Iceland, and has been seen as far north on both continents as human beings have travelled. It is known by the name of ‘jerfalcon,’ or ‘gyrfalcon,’ but its zoological name is Falco Islandicus.”

“The Indians here,” interposed Norman, “call it by a name that means ‘winter bird,’ or ‘winterer’—I suppose, because it is one of the few that stay in these parts all the year round, and is therefore often noticed by them in winter time. The traders sometimes call it the ‘speckled partridge-hawk,’ for there are some of them more spotted than this one is.”

“True,” said Lucien; “the young ones are nearly of a brown colour, and they first become spotted or mottled after a year or two. They are several years old before they get the white plumage, and very few individuals are seen of a pure white all over, though there are some without a spot.

“Yes,” continued the naturalist, “it is the jerfalcon; and those other birds which you call ‘white partridges,’ are the very creatures upon which it preys. So you have killed both the tyrant and his victims. They are not partridges though, but grouse—that species known as ‘willow-grouse’ (Tetrao saliceti).”

And as Lucien said this, he began to handle the birds, which were of a beautiful white all over, with the exception of the tail-feathers. These last were pitch-black.

“Ho!” exclaimed Lucien, in some surprise, “you have two kinds here! Were they all together when you shot them?”

“No,” answered François; “one I shot along with the hawk out in the open ground. All the others I killed upon a tree in a piece of woods that I fell in with. There’s no difference between them that I can see.”

“But I can,” said Lucien, “although I acknowledge they all look very much alike. Both are feathered to the toes—both have the black feathers in the tail—and............