HEN-HARRIEES 139 



wind, stationary yet barely hovering; then he 

 soars by a succession of small spirals to a slightly 

 higher plane. Presently, however, he drops 

 slantwise to a patch of scrubby ling, and now 

 deliberately, though very dexterously, works for 

 his daily bread, generally keeping but a few feet 

 above his uncertain board. He scarce glides 

 at all. When he does the gliding is of short 

 duration. Instead, he flaps his wings noiselessly, 

 regularly, slowly; there is no appreciable effort 

 about the flight of the Hen-Harrier. All the time 

 he eagerly scans each and every vole-run. Now 

 he twists deftly, first this way, then that; his 

 fully expanded, grey, white-tipped tail acts as a 

 rudder. Sometimes, but half satisfied, he 

 patiently patrols the same patch again and again, 

 crossing and re-crossing it in a maze of slow, 

 beautiful figures ; or, after zigzagging over a plot 

 like this, he will execute several low, circular 

 measures, which often intersect one another. Thus 

 he quarters the patch to its very edge. It must 

 be a clever vole that escapes his keen yellow 

 eye. 



Next minute he may be seen scouring the 

 valley in wide, erratic arcs, though still sedately, 

 or he is, as it were, borne by the breeze in one 

 long, uninterruped sweep along the flank of the 

 brae ; and although he flaps his wings, he sways 

 gently from side to side, as if to acquire a nicer 

 balance. This I have often seen Peregrines do 



