CHAPTER LIX 



THE COMMON BUZZARD 



The fenman calls the buzzards and harriers indiscriminately 

 " old buzzards," and in winter-time every man who owns an 

 old muzzle-loader turns out as soon as he gets word that an 

 old buzzard has been seen shaling about the marshes. 



The common buzzard now rarely appears lolling along 

 over the dry sandy warrens, where the silver-weed and rag- 

 wort grow on the poor soil, in search of an unsuspecting 

 rabbit, his favourite dish. 



I have once or twice seen this large gloomy-looking bird 

 flying toward a reed-bush at eventide, for they prefer to 

 sleep in the stuff, it being warmer there. You can always 

 tell them by their flight, for they fly more swiftly than a 

 harrier, and do not "lop" so much, as the fenmen sa}^ ; in 

 fact, they have not to hunt the thick stuff closely for a 

 living, as does the harrier, although the old buzzard has 

 been seen to take waterhens, coots, and partridges, and in 

 early spring young hares. 



When hard pressed by keen weather they will eat most 

 living things that cross their path. In spring and summer 

 they rarely frequent the marshland, and never breed, though 

 the buzzard generally leaves in March. 



He, too, is a mere passing vision, a brown patch to be 

 seen now and then under the grey winter sky, ranging 

 over warrens and marshland — a reminder of days gone by 

 — of days when a different climate obtained over these once 

 solitary wastes. 



