866 The Zoologist — August, 1867. 



not be found altogether devoid of interest to the readers of the 

 1 Zoologist.' 



Peregrine Falcon. — A pair of peregrines have now for three years 

 had their eyrie in an almost inaccessible precipice, flanking Helvellyn, 

 and for two years brought off their young unmolested. This summer 

 the eyrie was reached from above, by a Grasmere stone-mason, and 

 the two young falcons taken. The mother, strongly protesting against 

 the abduction of her young ones, was cruelly shot by this same fellow ; 

 but he did not get his victim, as she fell, lodging on the face of some 

 inaccessible rocks : one of these young falcons died a few days after 

 its capture ; the other I saw in the possession of this man, and 

 intended purchasing it before leaving the district; unfortunately, how- 

 ever, it also followed in the steps of its comrade — drooped and died. 

 Thus, in little more than a week, three out of four of probably the only 

 peregrines in the Lake district have uselessly perished. In these days 

 any notice of our noblest and rarest birds of prey is little more than a 

 record of their destruction. 



Common Buzzard. — Buzzards are, I am very glad to say, as yet far 

 from uncommon : 1 found two pairs, and heard of another pair, in the 

 neighbourhood of Grasmere, first seeing them near the rocks above 

 Grisdale Pass, near Grisdale tarn. I was resting on the short turf 

 near the Patterdale end of the tarn, and (for it was intensely hot and 

 close) under the shadow of a great rock — a huge boulder — all spotted 

 with yellow and gray lichens, and a great pink boss of that lovely 

 arctic plant Silene acaulis ; many a mountain ramble in bygone years 

 did that bonny little plant bring to ray recollection : not a ripple 

 crossed the surface of the tarn— itself a mirror, reflecting the green 

 hill-sides, the glorious blue sky, and those light cirrus clouds, now 

 resting almost motionless, far above the stony crest of Fairfield : for a 

 time the only sound was the monotonous chirp of the little brown pipit; 

 then from the higher crags came the harsh croak of a raven, and a pair 

 of these birds dashed downwards across the tarn, closely pursued — 

 yes, closely pursued— by two buzzards. We are told the buzzard is 

 a cowardly fellow ; he will fly before the magpie and jackdaw : there 

 was certainly an exception in this case, for the ravens had unmistak- 

 ably the worst of the encouuter, nor did the buzzards desist from the 

 pursuit of the vanquished, till they had fairly driven them across the 

 crest of Seat Sandal. Perhaps Corvus corax had been prying too 

 closely into the domestic arrangements of the buzzards, and hence 

 this display of wrath : and now began a magnificent spectacle ; the two 



