THE FAERY YEAR 



ended. In April it is as if the lapwing could not 

 cease for an hour from his gyrations. When two 

 male birds choose the same part of a field to fly 

 over, many petty duels take place. Now and then 

 there is a spirited encounter on the ground. One 

 bird has scarcely alit and tilted its tail, when it is 

 joined by its rival. The two run at each other, 

 engage in earnest, beaks no doubt spurs too 

 going briskly. One or two rushes, and both take 

 to flight again, to engage every few minutes in an 

 aerial encounter of a very slight character. They 

 will pursue and charge each other in the air, and 

 perhaps one swift, light peck with the beak, or 

 maybe with the spur, is given. There is a sound 

 as of brushing wings. An instant later the birds 

 separate and continue their twirls. The lapwing 

 impact in the air is so slight and soon over that 

 one may liken it to what I have called the kiss of 

 the swifts. 



In frolic or rivalry swifts may be seen, even in late 

 July and August, screaming and chasing one another 

 in the evening air. Two swifts seem on the point 

 of a collision, but it is always averted at the last 

 moment ; the heads of the birds approach so near 

 together that one cannot see space between them. 

 If a touch be given, it must be the swiftest, most 

 delicate. The lapwing's touch in the air is not much 

 more. We have to imagine rather than see it. 



In another way the lapwing can cheat the keenest 

 eye. In his tumble, does he really execute a com- 

 plete somersault ? To the naked eye it sometimes 

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