OCTOBER 



sometimes two. Both species are either rock builders or 

 tree builders. One of the most beautifully photographed 

 buzzards* nests that ever I saw was on the cliffs near the 

 mouth of the Dart, and no raven s nest stays more 

 saliently on the mind s eye than one built on a ledge of 

 very steep cliff near Aberystwyth. As you looked over 

 the edge down on the fledged young their feathers 

 gleamed in the sun almost like the mica in the granite 

 cliffs. They were subdued to the nature of the home they 

 lived in. But both birds are as fond of trees, if they are 

 big and strong and out of the hurly-burly ; and in this 

 valley they have plenty to pick from. 



Now, one of the common sights that never grows 

 stale, flat, or unprofitable is the flight of a bird : the slow 

 sail of the gull, the muscular dash of a pigeon, the smooth 

 speed of the swallow s circles, the wayward patrol of the 

 peewit, the sudden twists and swerves of turtle-dove or 

 of golden plover, the hover and stoop of the kestrel, the 

 fountain-like dance of the grey wagtail or fly-catcher, the 

 massed manoeuvres of starlings, the slow beat of the heron 

 that can yet climb in rivalry with the peregrine, the pur 

 poseful spearhead of migrating duck or geese, the spiral 

 of the lark, the sharply angled ascent and fall of the tree 

 pipit all flight is a luxury to the beholder ; but you 

 will see certain qualities not perceptible elsewhere if you 

 frequent a valley where raven and buzzard live in close 

 neighbourhood. 



The buzzard though the biggest of our hawks, indeed 

 almost an eagle, is a peaceable bird enough. Even in 

 pursuit of his natural prey, he does not kill near his own 

 home. He is inquisitive, and will spiral for hours over 

 busy city scenes (as I have seen in at least three parts of 

 the world), but the pair fly straight and far from their 

 home and interfere with no other bird. The raven is 



