the wing. And this because of its habit of hovering in mid-air 
as though suspended from the sky by some invisible thread, 
while it searches the earth far below for stray mice. The kestrel’s 
lordly relative, the peregrine-falcon, is now-a-days only to be 
seen in a few favoured spots, out in the wilds—on beetling cliffs 
washed by the restless sea, or inland precipices. Those who have 
the good fortune to see it at rest may know it by its large size, 
strongly barred under-parts, dark blue-grey back and wings, and 
dark moustachial stripe. On the wing it is a joy to watch, for its 
flight impresses one as something irresistible: something from 
which there can be no escape, so swift is it, and so terrible in its 
directness and strength. A few rapid beats of its long pointed 
wings, then a long glide on motionless pinions, and it is swallowed 
up in the distance. On the moors of Scotland it is regarded 
with cordial dislike, because of the terror it spreads among the 
grouse. Hence, unhappily, every man’s hand is against it. 
The little hobby is another of our falcons which is remorse- 
lessly shot down by the game-keepers, who, all too commonly, 
lack both knowledge and discretion. In appearance it closely 
resembles the peregrine, and its flight is similar. It feeds chiefly 
on small birds, dragon-flies, and beetles. You may hope to find 
it—generally in vain—in well-wooded districts, from April to 
September, in the southern counties of England. In the north of 
England and Scotland, if Fortune favours, you may find the merlin; 
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