122 WAY OF THE VULTURE 



wings, which lift him from the earth and in ever 

 widening circles bear him upwards, higher and higher 

 still, until the vision can no longer follow him, or 

 else he remains as a speck no bigger than a house-fly, 

 still serenely floating in wide circles in the vast blue 

 void. And at that height, far above the smells of 

 earth, he will continue floating for long hours. He 

 dwells on the air at that height because it is the 

 proper height for him, the one which gives the fullest 

 play to his faculties, to his vision, and the mind at 

 the back of it. Invisible himself at that altitude, he 

 can distinctly discern the objects it is to his advantage 

 to see, the dead or dying or distressed animal, even 

 as the gannet flying at a height of three hundred feet 

 can discern a fish swimming at a depth of two or 

 three feet or more beneath the surface of the sea, 

 or as the wind-hover flying at a height of a hundred 

 and fifty feet can see a field-mouse in the grass and 

 herbage. The mousing hawk's vision is even more 

 brilliant than this. In July and August he takes to 

 feeding on grasshoppers, and from the same height 

 as in mousing he can detect the insect, notwith- 

 standing its smallness and assimilative colouring in 

 the yellowing grass. 



When the vulture has seen the thing he has been 

 looking for, he drops down, aslant or in circles, out 

 of the sky, and his action is seen by some other vulture 

 or by more than one, a mile or two away, and they 

 know what the action means and follow suit. And 

 the action of these last is seen by still other vultures 

 further away, and so on progressively until all the 



