PINE-WOOD STUDIES 15 



This is hard fact, and the bird-king at times is but a 

 great carrion crow. 



In spring, the rare dotterel comes to the hills 

 above the pine-zone, and breeds far up among the 

 mists. The buzzard still remains, and a few pairs of 

 peregrines nest among the rocks of the crags. 



As I sit on the confines of the wood I have an 

 opportunity of observing a large bird that has just 

 flown into that clump of trees on the hillside opposite. 

 There it sits on a dead bough, with its mottled breast 

 towards me, its restless head quickly turning from 

 side to side. Against the dark-green foliage I see 

 the bright orange of its claws, and know it to be a 

 sparrow-hawk. As it flies from the clump, a pair of 

 missel-thrushes and a flock of smaller birds follow 

 in its wake, but dare not mob it. It swoops 

 as one approaches too near, glides upward, and 

 pursues its way, scarcely deigning to note the 

 screeching mob. The hawk glides silently into the 

 wood, threading its sinuous way through the trees, 

 and takes up its position in the centre. The cooing 

 of the wood-pigeons seems to excite it, and it makes 

 a circuit, skimming over the ground at the height of 

 a few yards. Then, as something in the grass 

 attracts it, it beats the air with its pointed wings, and, 

 depressing its tail, hangs as if suspended. In a 

 second it falls, just as a lark shoots from a tuft to 

 seek the shelter of a thick thorn-bush. The hawk 



