community of small birds into fearful alarm.

He is the

terror of the sparrows and finches, the dire enemy of all the swift-winged birds, and the swallows seem to take especial delight in mobbing him whenever they can, their scream of alarm giving warning to the general confraternity; prey he is pretty sure of his game. Knox ("Ornithological but by his stealthy and quiet manner of approaching his Rambles") says: "The depredations of this little tyrant of the woods and groves certainly surpass those of any other British bird of prey." Tennyson calls him "the

hedgerow thief."

Seebohm says that "birds do not form the sparrow-hawk's only fare; sometimes you see him dip silently and swiftly down amongst the marshy vegetation of old watercourses and bear off a rat or a frog." Young rabbits and leverets I fall to his unerring swoop, and in Scotland he fearlessly attacks the wood-pigeons, and does some good in this

respect to the farmer; and by taking the weakly gamebirds it helps to keep disease away, and preserve that healthy standard of perfection which nature inexorably demands. But, on the other hand, no rapacious bird is more to be dreaded by the gamekeeper or the chicken-breeder. The sparrow-hawk has a mythological history. Nisus was transformed into this bird after his daughter's treacherous conduct, she being at the same time changed into a lark, so that the two should be continually antagonistic

to each other; as Chaucer says, in his " Cressida :"

"What might or more the sely lark say

Troilus and

When that the sparhawke hath him in his foote?"

The male bird has a very graceful form and handsome plumage. The upper surface of the back and head of a dark-blue slate, with one small spot of white on the and nape of the neck; the eyes orange; the chin, throat, under-parts a reddish-brown, with dark transverse bars; legs and toes yellow. The female is a dark brown on back, &c., with the under-parts a greyish-white and

barred.

THE KESTREL HAWK.

Another of the hawks, one of the long-winged species (the sparrow-hawk being short-winged), of the same order and family, is the KESTREL or WINDHOVER (Falco tinnunculus), often seen hovering over the meadow or marsh, its head being always pointed to the wind. It is a very harmless bird, preying chiefly on field-mice, frogs, beetles, and the like. Of course, it will occasionally take a small bird, as all hawks will when pressed by hunger, but this exception only proves the rule. It is well known that small birds will take no notice of the kestrel, but will con

tinue their songs, proving that they have no fear or consider themselves in any danger. Seebohm says: "Its presence is readily detected as it hovers in the air

'As if let down from the heaven then

By a viewless silken thread ;'

now advancing towards you, flying upward some thirty feet above the earth, its wings flapping hurriedly or held perfectly motionless; now it is directly above you; you see its broad head turning restlessly from side to side; the wings seem in a perpetual quiver, and the broad tail is expanded to its fullest extent."

It is a very beautiful bird, and very graceful in its movements. In the male, the top of the head and neck a beautiful ash-grey, with long streaks; the back and wingcoverts fawn-colour, with small black spots; tail ashblue grey; eyes dark brown; legs and toes yellow. female is larger and more uniform in colour.

Willughby says: "The term kestrel is derived from the Greek word Keyрos, a millet, as if one should say millet bird," alluding to the mottled millet-like marks on the breast. The bird also goes by the name of the StannelHawk, Stand-Hawk, or Steinfall. So Shakespeare, in "Twelfth Night," Act ii. sc. v. :

"And with what wing the stanniel checks at it."

In Scotland we occasionally come across some of the grander species of the Falconida, as the GOLDEN EAGLE and the PEREGRINE FALCON. We were once fishing on Loch Coolin, in Ross-shire, when a splendid specimen of the former soared over our heads not very far above us, making for a neighbouring crag; and again in Argyleshire, whilst fishing the river Carnac, we put down our rod to watch two golden eagles on the opposite hill hunting for game (rabbits). One settled on a rock quite near, and with our binocular we got a splendid view of him and his eagle eye flashing in the sunlight.

CHAPTER IX.

THE BARN-OWL.

How often, when at eventide, on the banks of some stream, when the red sun has sunk beneath the horizon and the elms in the distance look almost black in the gloaming, we have stopped to watch the flight of the BARN-OWL (Aluco flammeus) as he searches with silent wing the water-meadows! How suddenly he will stop, hover for a moment, and swoop down into the long grass, and as suddenly rise again! He has missed his prey. Again he quarters his ground like a pointer; once more he is down-with success this time, for he rises with something dark in his claws-probably a young watervole and away he flies to yonder old ivy-mantled tower or ruined mill. We have scarcely made a few casts when he is again at work; he is on the other side now, gliding down the hedgerow. But if we watch him much longer we shall lose the chance at that big trout just flopped up near the opposite bank. We can see the rings he has made. Away goes the big alder into the midst of the round O's. Ah! we have him-whirr goes the reel. Look out for that low tree across the stream with its bed of tangled weeds. He means business; but, thanks to strong tackle and a judicious strain, we have turned him. The net is under him, and a fine two-and-half pounder lies on the dewy grass. But the owl? Oh! there he is. He must have gone and come again during the tussle. He has now got a much larger bunch in his claws-perhaps the old water-vole, or a rat from the hedgerow. What a friend of the farmers is this bonny owl; and yet how often, from ignorance and superstition, do we see this poor bird nailed to the barn-door or hanging to the game

keeper's gallows-tree! Both farmer and gamekeeper have very strong opinions and murderous intentions about this bird. The one believes that it takes his young pigeons, the other that it destroys his pheasant chicks. Now, as the barn-owl seeks its food for the most part when the young pigeons and young pheasants are under the wings of their respective mothers, one does not quite see how this destruction can go on; it does, no doubt, occasionally pick up an unprotected bird or two, but its principal food consists of rats, mice, voles, frogs, and the like.

Seebohm says: "My friend, Frank Buckland, once found twenty dead rats in a barn-owl's nest, all fresh killed, and yet the stupid farmer will slay him if he can, under the delusion that he eats his pigeons. Out of between thirty or forty nests examined by Mr. Norgate, only in one instance did he find the remains of a bird. Out of 700 pellets examined by Dr. Altum, remains were found of 19 bats, 2513 mice, I mole, and 22 birds, 19 of which were sparrows. The barn-owl is one of the farmer's best friends."

The poor owls get scant justice from most country-folks. The barn-owl is the screech-owl, the dread of village boys and old women, who have a most superstitious awe of this bird. Should its screech be heard when watching the sick-bed, it bodes certain death. Spenser, in his "Faerie Queen," says:

"The messenger of death, the ghastly owl,
With drery shriekes."

And Drayton :

"The shrieking stritch owl that doth never cry,
But boding death."

Shakespeare, in "Richard III. : "—

"Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death."

In all countries where this bird is found it has a bad name with the ignorant and superstitious. In France, if a screech-owl shrieks on the chimney of a house where a woman is lying-in, a girl will be born, with ill-luck.