THE TEMPLES OF THE HILLS 269 



mid-air with swiftly vibrating wings like a gigantic 

 hover-fly ; but he is nothing more than a mouser 

 and an insect-eater, a falcon that has lost the noble 

 courage of his tribe. The splendid powerful goshawk, 

 a veritable king among hawks, has long been extinct ; 

 only his little cousin, the sparrow-hawk, lives on in 

 ever-diminishing numbers. But although small and, 

 as his name implies, a preyer chiefly on little birds, he 

 has the qualities of his noble relation. In wooded 

 places I am always on the look-out for him in hopes of 

 witnessing one of his dashing raids on the feathered 

 population. As a rule there is little to see, for the 

 sparrow-hawk usually takes his quarry by surprise, 

 rushing along the hedgerow, or masked by trees, then 

 bounding like a small hunting leopard of the air on his 

 victim and, if the stroke has been missed, speeding on 

 his way. Even if I do not see this much — if I just catch 

 a glimpse of the blue figure speeding by, seen for a 

 moment, then vanishing among the trees — it is a 

 pleasure to me, a satisfaction to know that he still 

 exists, this little living link with the better vanished 

 past, and my day has not been wasted. 



Here, on the open downs where the small birds when 

 feeding have no close refuge into which they can 

 quickly vanish at the sight of danger, he may oc- 

 casionally be watched chasing them as a dog on the 

 ground chases a rabbit ; but the best display is when 

 he goes after a flock of starlings. At no other time does 

 a company of these birds appear so like a single organism 

 composed of many separate bodies governed by one 



