A Plea for 
the Buzzard. 
(244) THE BIRD WORLD. 
“ the call of the wild ”—so dear to the 
heart of the lover of Nature—better than 
the Buzzard s plaining “ Mew,” which, 
though it never sounds very loud, be the 
bird that gave utterance to it ever so 
near, yet falls so distinctly on the ear 
that it is often difficult to realise that 
its author is the dark speck silhouetted 
against the sky nearly half a mile over¬ 
head. 
A Graceful Soarer. 
Like most birds, whose ordinary diet 
consists largely of carrion, the Buzzard 
appears somewhat dull and heavy when 
at rest, and it is upon the wing that it is 
seen to the greatest advantage. Like 
other carrion-feeders, it spends a con¬ 
siderable portion of its time in soaring 
aloft while its keen eye scours the 
country below for any trace of a meal. 
Wheeling gracefully to right or left in 
ever-widening circles, with the wings 
slightly elevated above the plane of the 
body, and so fully expanded that the 
tips of the quills stand out distinctly 
from one another, it then closely repre¬ 
sents an Eagle in miniature, and affords 
one of the most engaging sights in bird 
life that it is possible to behold in 
modern England. 
A ID ill gent Hunter. 
When hunting for prey at a lower 
altitude, a Buzzard quarters his ground 
as diligently as a well-trained setter, 
frequently poising himself in mid-air like 
a large Kestrel or “ Wind-hover.” When 
a living object is sighted beneath, he 
falls upon it, not with the headlong 
flight of the Falcon, but with more than 
half-closed wings, trusting to his weight 
to give him sufficient striking force. At 
the last moment his legs, hitherto carried 
stretched back beneath the tail, and 
not drawn up against the breast as birds 
are usually depicted in drawings, are 
thrust forward to grasp the prey. The 
talons are short, but strong, and admir¬ 
ably adopted for squeezing the life out 
of the intended victim, assisted, if 
necessary, by a bite on the nape of the 
neck from the powerful bill. 
Not Lion-hearted. 
The Buzzard is, however, rather a 
cowardly bird—“ ignoble ” was the term 
applied to it in the palmy days of 
falconry—and seldom attacks any animal 
it cannot easily overpower. It flees 
before the Raven, and will often suffer 
itself to be driven from a meal by a pair 
of impudent and aggressive Crows. 
When the mobbing, to which it is fre¬ 
quently subjected by other birds, be¬ 
comes intolerable, it seeks peace and 
quietude in soaring, and it is in such 
circumstances that we get the best idea 
of its power of wing. Wafted upwards 
on almost motionless pinions, it climbs 
the air, in ever-widening spirals, with 
such apparent ease as to be more sug¬ 
gestive of a natural buoyancy than of 
any applied exertion; and, almost 
before the beholder has realised it, it has 
left its pursuers hopelessly behind, and 
is circling away far overhead. A few 
minutes more and it is a mere speck in 
the heavens, and ere the eye has tired of 
watching it has disappeared from sight 
altogether. 
As a Weather Frophet. 
In the West of England the Buzzard 
was wont to be regarded as a “ rain- 
bird,” one of several that foretold ap¬ 
proaching unsettled weather. It was 
believed to live under a curse, which 
prohibited it from drinking anything 
except rain, and tradition connects its 
cry of “ Plui, plui,” with a call to 
Jupiter Pluvius to assuage its thirst. 
When more than usually parched, its 
voice became more piercing, and it 
soared nearer to the clouds in order that 
its prayer might be the better heard. 
Thus a Buzzard flying high, and at the 
same time calling, came to be looked 
upon as a forecast of rain; in curious 
contrast to the Swallow, whose high 
flight indicated fine weather. That the 
superstition has still some hold in the 
country is evidenced by the rhyming 
saw given below, which the writer once 
had repeated to him by an old Devonian. 
Unfortunately, he did not commit it to 
writing at the time, and is unable, there- 
