CHAPTER ELEVEN BIRDS OF PREY 



particularly as in the open plains, where he principally 

 hunts, there are but few trees, and he seldom perches on 

 the ground. His flight is leisurely and slow when searching 

 for game; but his dart, when he has discovered his prey, is 

 inconceivably rapid and certain. 



There is another most destructive kind of hawkwho fre- 

 quently pays us a visit — the sparrowhawk. Not content 

 with the partridges and other/"^ ;vr naiicro', this bold little 

 freebooter invades the poultry-yard rather too frequently. 

 The hens scream, the ducks quack, and rush to the cover 

 of the plantations; whilst the tame pigeons dart to and fro 

 amongst the buildings, but in vain. Thesparrowhawk darts 

 like an arrow after one of the latter birds, and carries it off, 

 though the pigeon is twice or three times his own weight. 

 The woman who takes care of the poultry runs out, but is 

 too late to see anything more than a cloud of white feathers, 

 markingthe placewheretheunfortunatepigeonwas struck. 

 Its remains are, however, generally found at some little 

 distance; and when this is the case, the hawk is sure to be 

 caught, as he invariably returns to what he has left, and my 

 boys bring the robber to me in triumph before many days 

 elapse. Sometimes he returns the same day to finish pick- 

 ing the bones of the bird, but often does not come back for 

 two or three. I n the meantime, whatever part of the pigeon 

 he has left is pegged to the ground, and two or three rat- 

 traps are set round it, into one of which he always con- 

 trives to step. When caught, instead of seeming frighten- 

 ed, he flies courageously at the hand put down to pick him 

 up, and fights with beak and talons to the last. Occasion- 

 ally, when standing still amongst the trees, or even when 



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