And indeed there is much need both of skill in nest building and of watchfulness for many a long day after, for if the perchers are the highest, they are not by any means the strongest of birds; and while they feed on insects and smaller creatures, they have to guard their little ones with anxious care against the larger birds of prey which rule as masters in the higher regions of the air. It is on rocky pinnacles and in the clefts of inaccessible heights among the mountains that we must look for the nests of the Eagle, the Vulture, and the Falcon. Strong, powerful, and untiring in flight, they sail majestically high up in the air, not to sing a joyful song like the lark, but with piercing eye to search every corner for miles around, for animals of all sizes, from the dead ox or mule to the tiny living mouse or bird, which can serve for a meal.
Fig. 47.
The Eagle bringing food to its young.—(From a coloured lithograph by Keulemann.)
It needs only a glance at them to see that they are strong destroyers, with their powerful wings, their sharp hooked beaks, their long toes with pointed claws, and their strong muscular thighs; and because most men admire strength and power, we call such birds noble, though their nobility chiefly consists in loving their little ones, and asking neither pity nor shelter from others, as they themselves are pitiless in return. Those which we are apt to like the least, the carrion-feeding Vultures of hot countries, are really the most useful and harmless, for they feed chiefly on dead animals and clear the land of carrion; and for this reason neither their beak nor their claws are as strong as those of the fighting birds. But though they are grand in flight they are but repulsive-looking birds when compared with the lordly eagles. The beautiful Golden Eagle of Europe, with its dark plumage and the golden sheen on its back and tail, is indeed a splendid object, as
“He clasps the crag with hooked hands,
Close to the sun in lonely lands,”
or still more, as he sweeps along with steady flight, circling round and glancing with searching eye over the plain beneath. Suddenly his attitude changes; he closes his wings, and, head downwards, drops to earth slantingwise with a rushing noise, seizing in his claws the startled fawn as it dashes by at full speed, the frolicking rabbit darting into its hole, or the terrified bird upon whom his choice has fallen. Then, with a powerful stroke he rises up again, and is lost to sight as he soars aloft and regains the rocky peak where his eyrie is built and his children are clamouring for food.
So, too, the dexterous Falcon swoops upon his prey swift as an arrow, his pointed wings striking the air, and then closing at once upon his body, while his long rounded tail guides him in his flight. Who would think that such a powerful and bold robber could have anything in common with the soft feathered owl which sits blinking its large eyes in the hollow of the tree till the twilight falls? And yet the Owl, with very little change in structure, has become as fitted to follow prey at night as the falcon is by day—
“What time the preying owl, with sleepy wing,