i2 THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. 



has recovered his wind. Socialis chirps angrily, and 

 is determined not to be beaten. Keeping, with the 

 slightest effort, upon the heels of the fugitive, he is 

 ever on the point of halting to sn?.p him up, but never 

 quite does it, — and so, between disappointment and 

 expectation, is soon disgusted, and returns to pursue 

 his more legitimate means of subsistence. 



In striking contrast to this serio-comic strife of the 

 sparrow and the moth, is the pigeon-hawk's pursuit 

 of the sparrow or the goldfinch. It is a race of sur- 

 prising speed and agility. It is a test of wing and 

 wind. Every muscle is taxed, and every nerve 

 strained. Such cries of terror and consternation on 

 the part of the bird, tacking to the right and left, and 

 making the most desperate efforts to escape, and such 

 gilent determination on the part of the hawk, pressing 

 the bird so closely, flashing and turning and timing 

 his movements with those of the pursued as accurately 

 and as inexorably as if the two constituted one body, 

 excite feelings of the deepest concern. You mount 

 the fence or rush out of your way to see the issue. 

 The only salvation for the bird is to adopt the tactics 

 of the moth, seeking instantly the cover of some tree, 

 bush, or hedge, where its smaller size enables it to 

 move about more rapidly. These pirates are aware 

 i»f this, and therefore prefer to take their prey by one 

 fell swoop. You may see one of them prowling 

 through an orchard, with the yellow-birds hovering 

 %bout him, crying, Pi-ty, pi-ty, in the most despond 

 J3g tone ; yet he seems not to regard them, knowing. 



