The Falcon 



IT is a relief to have done with 

 the Harrier and to turn to 

 his relative, the gallant little 

 Falcon. Each season five or 

 six pairs build on the run, 

 mostly far back along the high ranges 

 or on the fern-clad conglomerate country. 

 The nests are miles apart, for the Falcon 

 brooks no rival in his own domain, 

 and will chase the Harrier out of his sky, 

 hunt the shepherd's collies back to their 

 master's heels, and attack even man himself. 

 In attempting to focus a nest, I have 

 had my hat knocked off again and again; 

 in fact, was unable to proceed without a 

 companion, who defended us both by 

 manuka poles held above our heads. The 

 birds strike with the breast, I think, and 

 give a severe cuff rather than a blow. 



The male — the smaller bird — is the more 

 swift, the more fierce, the more silent, but 



