BIRD-LIFE IN POMERANIA. 363 
of the wood some Buntings (Ammern) are twittering hungrily, 
“Bur lot mi in din Schiin” (“please let me into your barn”), 
while close by, in the branches of an alder tree, a flock of Siskins 
(Zeisige) are chattering gaily and feeding on the alder seeds. 
A Crested Lark (Haubenlerche) runs about in company with 
Greenfinches (Griinfinken) and Yellow Buntings (Gelbgénschen), 
busily pecking about in the cart-ruts, heedless of a Rough-legged 
Buzzard (Rauhfussbussard), clumsily flying over the field, looking 
for prey. But at this time of year this northern visitor can be as 
little trusted as his cousin the Common Buzzard (Mdusebussard). 
If opportunity serves neither of them will refuse a hare or a 
partridge, and thereby incur the anger of Sportsmen, though, on 
the other hand, they carry on a praiseworthy warfare against rats 
and mice, those enemies of cultivation. 
Near the forester’s house, which we see at a little distance, 
a Skylark (Feldlerche), but recently returned from his travels, 
and welcomed as the first harbinger of spring, rises in the 
clear wintry air, warbling his greetings to the sun. From the 
roof of the barn a thievish Magpie (Elster) is teasing the dog, 
the guardian of the house. Bullfinches (Dompfaffen), whose red 
breasts contrast prettily with the white snow, Linnets (Hénjlinge), 
and impudent Sparrows (Sperlinge) amuse themselves on the trees 
of the little garden, each in its own way, while a Starling (Staar) 
sits on a branch, staring at the sun, and pipes and twitters his 
varied notes, beating time with his wings. 
Our path leads us along the hedge of the forester’s garden, 
and suddenly a Blackbird (Amsel) dashes out from his winter 
shelter, and with a loud far-sounding note warns every animal in 
the forest of approaching danger, and urges them to flee without 
delay to their hiding-places. This unluckily deprives us of a rare 
sight in this country—a Golden Eagle (Steinadler), which, to the 
great regret of the ornithologist has probably now disappeared 
from our list of resident birds (and whose habits therefore we 
should much like to have observed), rises at a great distance, 
startled by the cry of the Blackbird, and soars away with dignity 
into the dense forest. We hasten to the place whence he rose, 
and find a hare, recently slaughtered. Dr. Ekhard gives an 
instance of the extraordinary strength of this bird. He once saw 
an Eagle break the neck of a three-year-old goat with one wrench 
of his beak. 
