THE HEN-HAWK 131 



tous descent, he fixes his eye on some distant 

 point in the earth beneath him, and thither bends 

 his course. He is still almost meteoric in his speed 

 and boldness. You see his path down the heav- 

 ens, straight as a line ; if near, you hear the rush 

 of his wings ; his shadow hurtles across the fields, 

 and in an instant you see him quietly perched 

 upon some low tree or decayed stub in a swamp 

 or meadow, with reminiscences of frogs and mice 

 stirring in his maw. 



When the south wind blows, it is a study to 

 see three or four of these air-kings at the head 

 of the valley far up toward the mountain, bal- 

 ancing and oscillating upon the strong current ; 

 now quite stationary, except for a slight tremulous 

 motion like the poise of a rope-dancer, then ris- 

 ing and falling in long undulations, and seem- 

 ing to resign themselves passively to the wind; 

 or, again, sailing high and level far above the 

 mountain's peak, no bluster and haste, but, as 

 stated, occasionally a terrible earnestness and 

 speed. Fire at one as he sails overhead, and, un- 

 less wounded badly, he will not change his course 

 or gait. 



The calmness and dignity of this hawk, when 

 attacked by crows or the kingbird, are well wor- 

 thy of him. He seldom deigns to notice his noisy 

 and furious antagonists, but deliberately wheels 



