50 THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. 



With slow, leisurely movement, rarely vi- 

 brating his pinions, he mounts and mounts 

 in an ascending spiral till he appears a mere 

 speck against the summer sky ; then, if the 

 mood seizes him, with wings half closed like 

 a bent bow, he will cleave the air almost 

 perpendicularly, as if intent on dashing him- 

 self to pieces against the earth ; but, on 

 nearing the ground, he suddenly mounts 

 again on broad, expanded wing, as if re- 

 bounding upon the air, and sails leisurely 

 away. It is the sublimest feat of the season. 

 One holds his breath till he sees him rise 

 again. 



If inclined to a more gradual and less 

 precipitous 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 heavens, 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 



