238 BIRD LIFE IN WILD WALES 



farmer have well-nigh exterminated our poor friend. 

 However, our nest-hunt is not altogether fruitless, for 

 we find several Carrion Crows' tenements — a Pied 

 Flycatcher's abode in a hollow birch, and a Tawny 

 Owl's egg in the once home of a Buzzard. But 

 evening now approaches, and as we have a long 

 walk before reaching the charming little inn which 

 harbours us during our stay in the hills, we breast 

 the stiff ascent leading from the valley to the never- 

 ending moorland above — moorland redolent with the 

 perfume of brown heather. 



Bird life is riotous on all sides. The " peep, peep " 

 of the ubiquitous Meadow Pipit falls on the ear 

 incessantly ; far up above us, lost in the " blue," 

 Larks carol joyously ; a Peewit wails mournfully as 

 we touch sacred territory, a cock Grouse rises with 

 a loud rush of wings and tells us to " gobac, gobac, 

 bac, bac, back," plainly as any human being ; the 

 plaintive and trilling "curlee, curlee" of the Curlew 

 is wafted pleasantly to us by the scented spring 

 breeze, and the "bleating" of a Snipe sounds distantly 

 from some bog — but forward ! 



As we descend the last hillside, before our goal is 

 reached a large bird sails grandly from a clump of 

 monarch oaks. Can it be? No, too good to be 

 true ; yes, surely though the sword-like wings and 

 forked tail of the Red Kite ! What a supreme 

 moment ! as he sails majestically past us — only a 

 gunshot off Was ever a better view of so rare a 

 bird obtained in these degenerate days? Round 

 he circles, now hundreds of feet above us, scanning 

 the ground beneath with eagle eye. Then straight 



