CHAP. XI. ] The Peregrine Falcon. . 207 
“ Despairing of success, I sat down to consider what, was 
next to be done. While thus resting, I observed a falcon 
(Falco peregrinus) sailing slowly and steadily along, bearing 
something large in his talons. On he came, seemingly un- 
conscious of my presence, and alighted on a ledge only a 
few yards from where I sat. I now saw that the object he 
carried was a partridge. Having fairly settled down with 
his quarry on the rock, I could not help wondering at and 
admiring the collected ease and cool composure with which 
he held his struggling captive (for it was still alive) until 
death put an end to its sufferings. There was no lacerating 
with his beak at the body of the poor and unfortunate pris- 
oner, in order, as it were, to hasten its termination; no ex- 
panding of the wing to maintain his equilibrium ; although 
the last and dying struggle of the bird caused him to quiver 
a little. 
“All being now over, with one foot resting upon his 
game and the other on the rock, silent and motionless as a 
statue, the noble captor stood, with an inquiring eye gazing 
at the now lifeless form of his reeking prey, seeming to 
doubt the fact that it was already dead. But there was no 
mistake. The blood, oozing from its mouth and wounds— 
its body doubtless pierced by the talons of the conqueror— 
already began to trickle down the sides of the dark cliffs, 
dyeing the rocks in its course. Satisfied at last that life 
was fairly extinct, an incision was then made in the neck 
or shoulder of the victim, and into this the falcon thrust 
his bill several times, and each time that it was withdrawn 
it was covered with blood. This being done, and having 
wrenched off the head, which he dropped, he then began 
not only to pluck, but to skin his food, from the neck down- 
ward; and, having bared the breast, commenced a hearty 
meal by separating the flesh from the sternum into portions, 
with as much apparent ease as if he had been operating 
with the sharpest surgical instrument. I should have liked 
well to have seen the end of the work thus begun; but, un- 
