THE TEMPLES OF THE HILLS 267 



her and a mass of dark pine-needles for a background, 

 one could see the colouring of her plumage. Seen 

 through a powerful binocular, she would appear as 

 big as a goshawk, and as beautiful as that noblest of our 

 lost hawks in her pigeon-blue wings and upper plumage, 

 the white breast barred with brown, thin yellow shanks 

 and long black claws, and the shining yellow eyes, 

 exceedingly wild and fierce. Presently her little mate 

 would appear, carrying a small bird in his claws, and 

 begin darting wildly about among the trees, screaming 

 his loudest, but would refuse to visit the nest. In 

 the end my persistence would tire them out ; gradu- 

 ally the piercing reiterated cries would grow less and less 

 frequent, and finally cease altogether. The female 

 would fly from tree to tree, coming nearer and still 

 nearer to the nest, until at last she would perch directly 

 over it and look down upon her young, and finally 

 drop upon them and disappear from sight. And by- 

 and-by the male, approaching in the same cautious way, 

 would at length fly to the nest and, without alighting, 

 just hovering a moment, drop his bird upon it, then 

 dash away and quit the grove. She would then refuse 

 to come off, even when I would strike loudly on the 

 tree with a stick ; yet on my return on the following 

 day the whole performance would be gone through 

 again. 



Watching these birds from day to day with an endless 

 delight in their beauty and vigour, their dashing flight, 

 and shrill passionate cries of anger and apprehension, 

 1 could not help thinking of all the pleasure that hawks 



