76 THE BOOK OF BIRDS 



a distance and drive them straight towards some chff or 

 rocky declivity, and by yells and hootings frighten them 

 into rushing over the edge. 



In like manner an Eagle will sometimes watch a sheep 

 moving along the mountain-side, wait till it is close to the 

 edge of a precipice, and then assail it fiercely and suddenly. 

 With strong flappings of his wings the Eagle will do his 

 best to knock the sheep over the brink, and occasionally 

 he succeeds. Then he flies down to the killed or crippled 

 animal, and enjoys his prize. St. John mentions how he 

 has seen an Eagle come rushing down on a pack of grouse, 

 and flap and flutter his wings in such a bewildering manner 

 that before the frightened birds know what is overshadow- 

 ing them two or three of their number have been whisked 

 away in the grasp of those great claws. And this, too, 

 under the very eyes of the sportsman with his gun and his 

 dogs. 



The Golden Eagle prefers to find his dinner waiting for 

 him, in the shape of a dead sheep or deer, to pursuing and 

 striking down sortie lesser animal. He likes to be saved 

 the trouble. But occasionally an exciting story of a bolder 

 attack gets into the newspapers. 



Let me relate one incident that happened a good many 

 years ago, but which I have never forgotten. No more 

 romantic story of wild life ever came from that land of 

 romance, the Scottish Highlands. It was a sight witnessed 

 only by two foresters, and many a lover of wild nature 

 would have paid a large sum of money to see what 

 those two humble Highlanders saw that day. 



In a lonely hollow among the hills near Strathglass, a 

 herd of red deer were quietly feeding. The leader of the 

 herd was a stag with splendid antlers, a strong, vigorous 

 animal. High overhead sailed a Golden Eagle. The herd 



