6 BIRD LIFE IN WILD WALES 



the nest is reached. Six eggs (rather pale varieties) 

 repose in the smooth, wool-lined cradle, and they 

 appear to be highly incubated. Shall the nest come 

 down, too? No, let it stop ; 'twill make a cosy 

 enough home for some vagrant Kestrel this or next 

 year. 



We now skirt the rocks and come in sight of a 

 small fir nursery, which scarce merits the name of 

 plantation. Here, though quite a quarter of a mile 

 distant, a huge nest is visible, which the keeper tells 

 us is a last year's Crow's domain. We think other- 

 wise, however, and the words are hardly spoken when 

 the great Hawk we are in search of glides out of the 

 lonely firs, making straight for the opposite crags, 

 where we can see her plainly through our glasses at 

 rest on a boulder, for it proves to be the female. 



Thus far all is silent as the grave, save for the rush 

 of a turbulent hill-stream close by ; but as we near 

 the clump the huge bird leaves her watch-tower and 

 floats in spiral curves above us, where she is soon 

 joined by her mate, easily recognised by his smaller 

 size, both uttering their plaintive mewing cry, which 

 harmonises so well with all the surroundings. Yes, 

 the nest is here right enough ; and what a place for a 

 Buzzard's eyrie ! Scarce twenty-five feet from the 

 ground, it is built on the flat, horizontal branch of a 

 Scotch fir, at some distance from the trunk, the 

 deserted Crow's nest forming a groundwork for it, 

 on which a fresh nest has been made, composed of 

 sticks of varying lengths (many with the live shoots 

 still on), and lined sparingly with Liizula sylvatica 

 (mountain grass). In addition, much down from the 



