OUR WINTER BIRDS. 131 
in the pursuit of such meadow-mice and other animals as 
are imprudent enough to step out of their subnivean gal- 
leries, or in the capture of weaker birds. The few late 
fish-hawks remain by the sea-shore, plunging in now and 
then for their finny prey, which the bald eagle very often 
compels them to relinquish to him. The golden eagle, coy- 
ering the landscape with keen and comprehensive glance 
as he sweeps over in vast circuits, swoops upon hares, foxes, 
and the like, sometimes even picking up an early lamb, or 
catching a grouse before it can baftle its dreaded pursuer 
by burying itself in the snow. The buzzard and marsh- 
hawk sail low over the meadows in slow and easy flight, or 
stand motionless above some elevated spot in the lowlands, 
watching intently until a mole, or shrew, or mouse, shows 
itself below, when they drop upon it like a shot, and carry 
it off before the poor victim has time to recover from its 
palsy of terror. Less frequently do these species seem to 
eatch birds, and between Christmas and Easter they lead a 
very precarious existence. The owls, too, must “live by 
their wits,” but, being nocturnal, they have the advantage of 
the birds, and, we may be sure, snatch many a tender one 
rudely from its roost in the open trees, although the dense 
twigs and sharp needles of the cedars and other close- 
boughed evergreens must offer such obstacles to the rapid 
