ABOVE THE PINE-ZONE 



THE HAUNTS OF THE FALCONS 



I HAVE left the forest below me, and am mounting 

 upward towards the higher crags above the pine- 

 zone. As I climb a shadow floats past me. I look 

 up, and there comes the pleasant cry, Kee, kee, 

 kee lie. Suspended above me and hovering in the 

 wind is the kestrel. So quickly do its wings vibrate 

 that I can scarce detect the motion as the bird hangs 

 against the blue. It hovers a while, then flies to a 

 short distance, and is again attracted by a stirring 

 in the tangled turf of grass and bents. Poising itself 

 for a second, it drops like a stone on closing its wings, 

 which it just slightly expands again as it takes a 

 mouse in its talons and flies off to the cliff. When 

 this morsel has been devoured, the male and female 

 fly from the nest and perform just for the love of 

 exercise, it would seem a series of aerial evolutions 

 that it would be impossible to describe. The nest 

 in this instance is upon the projecting ledge of a 

 rock midway down the scaur, and protected from 



sight and the sea- winds by an old, twisted yew. 



23 



