68 
A NATURALIST ON THE PROWL. 
and the young ones.” For a moment there flashed on me 
the gleam of a hope that its nest might be in that clump 
of tall,- dark trees. “What a prize its eggs would be ! ” I 
asked some country bumpkins, who were working in the 
fields, where they thought its nest might be ; but they did 
not appear to see much reason to suppose that it indulged 
in the habit of making nests, or laying eggs. So I sat 
down and watched it, and very soon 1 saw that it was on 
the same errand as myself — viz., bird-nesting. Methodi- 
cally it traversed the whole side of the hill, sailing low and 
scanning every bush and tree ; then crossed the little 
valley in which I was standing, to beat the hill on the 
opposite side. Suddenly it stopped, circled quickly round 
a small tree and plunged into it legs foremost, as eagles 
always do except in pictures. It evidently missed its 
quarry, for it rose again, but it plunged once more into 
the tree and remained there. With the thermometer at 
90° in the shade (and what in the sun !), I ran for that 
tree, thinking involuntarily of Falstaff larding the lean 
earth as he went along ; but before I could get there, the 
eagle rose majestically and sailed away. Pushing the 
branches aside and looking in, I found a Bulbul’s nest, 
with some eggshells and a spilt yolk, and at the foot of 
