126 BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES 



quickly, when it sounds more like " ker-vic, ker-vic, 

 ker-vic " — and for such a length of time that it seems 

 as though it would never leave off. All these notes, 

 though differing, have the same general quality of 

 sound, the same complaining wail in them, but one 

 there is which is altogether different, and which I 

 have only heard in the autumn, when the birds were 

 flying in numbers, preparatory to migration. Though 

 plaintive, it has not that drear character of the 

 others ; a whistling note it is, with a tremulous 

 rise and fall in it — '' tir-whi-whi-whi-whi-whi '' — 

 very pleasant to hear, and bringing the sea and sea- 

 shore to one's memory. It bears a resemblance — 

 a striking one, it has sometimes seemed to me — to 

 the long, piping cry of the oyster-catcher, but is 

 very much softer. I have heard this note uttered 

 by a bird that a hawk was closely pursuing, but 

 also on other occasions, so that it is not, specially, 

 a cry of distress. The hawk in question, as I 

 remember, was a sparrow-hawk, and therefore not 

 as big as the stone-curlew. The two were close 

 together when I first saw them — almost touching, 

 in fact — the hawk spread like a fan over the stone- 

 curlew, following every deviation of its flight — ■ 

 upwards, downwards, to one or another side — some- 

 times falling a little behind, but not as much as to 

 leave a space — the two were always overlapping. 

 I can hardly say why — perhaps it was the easy, 

 parachute-like flight of the hawk, with nothing like 

 a swoop or pounce, and the bright, clear sunshine 

 diffusing a joy over everything — but somehow the 

 whole thing did not impress me as being in earnest, 

 but, rather, as a sport or play — on the part of the 



