THE RED HAWK 



gravel, might be young compared to this perfecting 

 process. Once we take it that the red hawk did not 

 live by a single simple wave of the wand, we can 

 only think in aeons of the time he took to grow 

 perfect. 



It is the lofty, aspiring flight of this hawk that is 

 the most glorious. See ! now he floats a hundred 

 yards from the earth, even at this height looking 

 down and seeking small prey with the piercing eye. 

 He swings off, mounts again, cutting into the blue, 

 spiring slowly, but with utter ease upward smoothly 

 in wide circles. A party of rooks, also spiring after 

 a fashion, sucked upward perhaps by some eddies in 

 the air, are mingled with him as he mounts through 

 them. One of them insolently flies at and under 

 the hawk and makes as though to strike. Just a 

 careless swerve, nothing like a full stroke, an effort 

 of the wings, and the hawk is far removed from the 

 crass rook, oblivious of its existence. And now he 

 drops level with the tops of the oak trees to vibrate 

 half a minute over the same spot, searching the whole 

 ground about for mouse or cowering bird. 



One minute, wings and tail full spread, a-quiver, 

 body, head, wings, and tail all appear on the same 

 plane. He is absolutely level poised. The next his 

 head hangs down, his body drops, and the wings 

 are vibrating at an angle of 45 or more. When 

 the red hawk is poised level his extreme thinness 

 of appearance is remarked. He looks a mere 

 shaving lying flat on the air, fine as the edge 

 of a knife. Piercing, sharpened, pointed these 



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