HABITS OF THE GREAT PLOVER. 271 



which I had not heard before, I observed that one of these latter 

 birds was pursued by a Hawk — I think, a Sparrow-Hawk. The 

 two were close together — in fact, almost touching — the Hawk just 

 above the Plover, spread like a fan over him, following every 

 deviation of his flight, upwards, downwards, to one or another 

 side, but sometimes falling just a little behind, though there was 

 never a space between them. The two, so to speak, always over- 

 lapped. The Hawk, however, did not strike, nor, apparently, 

 attempt to, and neither the pursued Plover nor any of the others 

 appeared to me much concerned.* I can hardly say why — per- 

 haps it was the easy, parachute-like flight of the Hawk, with 

 nothing like a swoop or pounce, and the bright clear sunshine 

 diffusing an air of joy over everything — but somehow the whole 

 thing did not impress me as being in earnest, but rather a sport 

 or play. After a little while the Hawk left the Plover, and flew 

 off to some distance over the moor, and alighted upon it. The 

 cry made by the bird pursued (I assume it was made by that one) 

 was so different from the note I had yet heard that I at first 

 thought it was the Hawk, which I imagined to be mobbed by the 

 Plovers, and in distress. I was soon satisfied that this last was 

 not the case, and doubt on the other point was soon removed, for, 

 the whole flock of birds shortly rising and flying off, I now heard 

 the same note uttered by them all about. It is very different to 

 any other one that I have yet heard. Though plaintive, it is not 

 nearly so wailing, and more musical. It is a whistling note, with 

 a sort of tremulous rise and fall in it (" tir-whi-whi-whi-whi-whi") 

 very pleasant to hear, and bringing the sea and beach to one's 

 mind. The whole troop shortly returned, and came down once 

 more in the heather, in a little while again rose, circled about, 

 flew off, returning again — and did this several times, giving me 

 the idea that they are congregating previous to migration, and 

 have the restless feelings preceding it. When the birds settled 

 they would proceed a little through the heather, making their 

 quick short runs with abrupt stops, and following each other, but 

 the greater number of them would before long settle down and 

 sit about amongst the tufts. They never ran over the tufts, but 

 in and out amongst them as we would do. I observed no 

 dancing, though altogether I must have had the birds under 

 :;: But I may have been deceived. See pp. 275tC. 



