behind, now sweeping past in a long rapid curve, like a 
perfect skater on a perfect field of ice. There is no effort ; 
watch as closely as you will, you will rarely see, or never see, 
a stroke of the mighty pinion. The flight is generally near 
the water, often close to it. You lose sight of the bird as he 
disappears in the hollow between the waves, and catch him 
again as he rises over the crest ; but how he rises, and whence 
comes the propelling force, is, to the eye, inexplicable ; he 
alters merely the angle at which the wings are inclined ; 
usually they are parallel to the water and horizontal; but 
when he turns to ascend, or makes a change in his direction, 
the wings then point at an angle, one to the sky, the other 
to the water.” 
One sometimes hears the skylark described as ‘‘ soaring”’ 
upwards, when performing that wonderful musical ride 
which has made him so famous. But as, spell-bound, one 
listens to his rapturous strains, and watches his spiral ascent, 
one cannot help noticing that his wings are never still, they 
seem almost to be “ beating time’”’ to his music. In true 
soaring they are scarcely ever moved. 
The upward progress of a bird when soaring is, of necessity, 
comparatively slow. But in what we may call “ plunging ”’ 
flight the case is very different, for here the velocity of the 
descent is great. 
The frigate-birds of tropical seas, and the gannet of our 
M 165 
