2 The Peregrine 1s of the blood royal. 
taller than the male, and of more massive build, and in olden times, 
when falconry was the fashion and the Peregrine was the favourite 
of kings, she was called the Falcon and her less powerful mate the 
Tiercel, because he is, roughly, one-third smaller. We found this 
dominance of the female a marked feature of their domestic life, 
so that suffragettes could not choose a bird more suited to them 
as a totem, for the Falcon is nearly always away hunting, while 
the Tiercel stays at home and minds the babies. 
In the feathered world there are many different races, and as 
occupation stamps men into different classes, so is it possible to trace 
their likenesses among birds. The eagle has from time immemorial 
been looked upon as the king of birds, and the Peregrine is of the 
blood royal. There has been a movement of late to dethrone the 
eagle and replace him by the raven, who is undoubtedly the 
brainiest of them all. His family are the great legal fraternity 
among birds; nimbleness of wit mingled with audacity charac- 
terise them all, so that the very first time that I observed the 
hoodie crow at home I was struck with his laughable resemblance 
to a barrister in wig and gown. There was the same keen eye for 
the shortcomings of others, and the general look of mental superiority 
to ordinary folk. Possibly it was his sidling jump and hoarse 
chuckle while punishing the careless gull by taking her unguarded 
egg that sounded like an ill-timed jest during the administration 
of justice; but anyhow, the raven tribe do not appeal to me as 
kings. There is a want of dignity about them which is imme- 
diately apparent when you see the wild Peregrine at close quarters. 
For here you have the embodiment of quiet majesty. His quiet 
dignity, or the haughty stare with which he surveys the world 
from his stronghold, or the quick scowl with which he looks at 
something that displeases him, may not convey the deep craft of 
the raven, but they indicate something nobler—absolute fear- 
lessness, with a quiet reserve of power that enables you to realise 
that this is the bird whose swoop is the terror of the bird-world ; 
the bird that shoots down like a bolt from the blue, kills in mid-air 
with one blow from its talons and, binding to a bird as heavy as 
itself, is well on its way home to its eyrie and its whimpering young 
before the shower of scattered feathers has had time to reach the 
