24 WOODLANDERS AND FIELD FOLK 



I am scrambling among the crags in search of 

 Alpine plants, when a large bird of prey advances on 

 the wing. At a distance the under parts appear to 

 be white, but the bird, flying directly over at a height 

 of sixty feet, enables me to see distinctly the dark 

 bars across the feathers of the abdomen. Its flight 

 is a sort of flapping motion, not unlike that of the 

 ring-dove; and I can see its head turned rapidly in 

 various directions, the eye at the same time peering 

 into the crannies of the rocks and ghylls, in search 

 of any skulking prey. The peregrine is marked by 

 dark streaks proceeding from the corners of its bluish- 

 grey back, and by the transverse bars just 

 mentioned. It will dash through a flock of wild 

 ducks or a covey of partridges, wounding several in 

 its sortie, but eventually carrying off the one 

 selected with unerring aim. 



A noble bird is the peregrine, with its glorious 

 eyes, wild, restless and changeful! This bird is the 

 falcon of the royal falconers; its mate, the tiercel. 

 Among all our British birds the peregrine ranks 

 first; for strength, and courage, and speed it has no 

 compeer. Rooks clamour and arrange themselves 

 in battle array at its approach; other hawks fly off 

 to the covert, small birds of every species seek the 

 thickest shelter and farmyard poultry their 

 roost, as it sails in mid-air down the dale. Even 

 the eagle suffers itself to be mobbed by the com- 



