common. It may frequently be seen dashing out from the willows lining 

 the roads or river banks, to seize some passing insect, when its long black 

 deeply forked tail give it a most graceful appearance. 



Amongst the first arrivals in spring are the swallows and martins. The 

 former belong to the species Hirundo striolata, and are characterised by having 

 spotted breasts. They are welcomed wherever they choose to build their nest, 

 both by the Chinese and the Mongols, who consider them to be birds of good 

 omen. 



The martin (Cotyle sinensis) resorts to the high rocky cliffs of the foothills, 

 where it builds its nest well out of reach of the passer by. 



Leaving the perching birds, we will next turn our attention to the birds of 

 prey, such as eagles, hawks, and owls. These groups are fairly well 

 represented m the ornithology of Shansi, Shensi, and Kansu. One's mind 

 naturally turns first to the golden eagle (Aquila chrysaetus) whose regal poise 

 and fierce far-seeing eye have won for their owner the name of King of Birds. 

 Alas for romance, this powerful bird, though a first class hunter, often 

 descends to the useful, but disgusting, level of scavenger, and many are the 

 times it robs the ignoble kite or the croaking raven of their lawful food, and 

 gorges to repletion on the remains of some leprous beggar considered unworthy 

 of decent burial. 



In fact, its taste for food, other than that of its own killing, is so marked, 

 that I have known native hunters turn it to their advantage in an ingenious 

 way. A beast or bird having been shot and lost in dense scrub, the hunter at 

 once makes his way to a neighbouring eminence. Immediately, as if from 

 nowhere, a golden eagle appears and commences to circle round and round 

 above a spot in the scrub. Noting the spot, the hunter makes for it, and 

 — the eagle has made no mistake about that anyway — the game is there. 



The speed of the golden eagle is prodigious, and it is with a keen thrill of 

 pleasure that I recall to mind an exhibition of feathered speed witnessed by 

 me on the present expedition. 



I was out on a hillside collecting my rodent traps, when a golden eagle 

 sailing overhead disturbed several pheasants that had been feeding a few yards 

 up the slope. All the birds sought cover in a small copse of stunted cypress, 

 except one, which broke away towards a wood some two hundred yards 

 distant on the level ground below. Like lightning the eagle swooped down 

 upon his prey. The pheasant had, however, gained a high speed on her 

 downward course, and now frantically struggled to reach the friendly wood. 

 The pace was terrific, but the great marauder was slowly gaining upon his 



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