114 BRITISH BIRDS, WITH THEIR NESTS AND EGGS. 
a dash of clownishness, and his falconship a vulturine tinge. Still, he is a noble 
bird, powerful, independent, proud, and ferocious, regardless of the weal or woe 
of others, and intent solely on the gratification of his own appetite; without 
generosity, without honour, bold against the defenceless, but ever ready to sneak 
from danger. Such is his nobility, about which men have so raved! Suddenly 
he raises his wings, for he has heard the whistle of the shepherd in the corrie, 
and bending forward he springs into the air. Hardly do those vigorous flaps 
serve at first to prevent his descent; but now, curving upwards, he glides majes- 
tically along. As he passes the corner of that buttressed and battlemented crag, 
forth rush two Ravens from their nest, croaking fiercely. While one flies above 
him the other steals beneath, and they essay to strike him, but dare not, for they 
have an instinctive knowledge of the power of his grasp, and after following him 
a little way they return to their home, vainly exulting in the thought of having 
driven him from their neighbourhood. Bent on a far journey he advances in a 
direct course, flapping his great wings at regular intervals, then shooting along 
without seeming to move them. In ten minutes he has progressed three miles, 
although he is in no haste, and now disappears behind the shoulder of the hill. 
But we may follow him in imagination, for, his habits being well known to us, 
we may be allowed the ornithological licence of tracing them in continuance. 
Homeward bound, his own wants satished, he knows that his young must be 
supplied with food. 
‘Over the moors he sweeps, at the height of two or three hundred feet, 
bending his course to either side, his wings wide-spread, his neck and feet retracted, 
now beating the air, and again sailing smoothly along. Suddenly he stops, poises 
himself for a moment, stoops, but recovers himself without reaching the ground. 
The object of his regards, a Golden Plover, which he had spied on her nest, has 
eluded him, and he cares not to pursue it. Now he ascends a little, wheels in 
short curves, presently rushes down headlong, assumes the horizontal position 
when close to the ground, prevents his being dashed against it by expanding his 
wings and tail, thrusts forth his talons, and grasping a poor terrified Ptarmigan 
that sat cowering among the grey lichens, squeezes it to death, raises his head 
exultingly, emits a clear shrill cry, and springing from the ground pursues his 
journey. 
“In passing a tall cliff that overhangs a small lake, he is assailed by a fierce 
Peregrine Falcon, which darts and plunges at him, as if determined to deprive 
him of his booty, or drive him headlong to the ground. This proves a more 
dangerous foe than the Raven, and the Eagle screams, yelps, and throws himself 
into postures of defence; but at length, the Hawk, seeing the tyrant is not bent 
