“ ‘It is then, reader, that you may see the cruel spirit of this dreaded enemy of the feathered race, whilst, exulting over his prey, he for the first time breathes at ease. He presses down his powerful feet, and drives his sharp claws deeper than ever into the heart of the dying Swan. He shrieks with delight as he feels the last convulsions of his prey, which has now sunk under his unceasing efforts to render death as painfully felt as it can possibly be. The female has watched every movement of her mate, and if she did not assist him in capturing the Swan, it was not from want of will, but merely that she felt full assurance that the power and courage of her lord were quite sufficient for the deed. She now sails to the spot where he eagerly awaits her, and when she has arrived, they together turn the breast of the luckless Swan upwards, and gorge themselves with gore.’ ”[1]
“Poor swan!” was Emile’s pitying comment. [[137]]
[1] Audubon: “Ornithological Biography,” I. 160–162.—Translator. [↑]
CHAPTER XVIII
HAWKS AND FALCONS
“What are we to do with enemies like the eagle?” asked Louis when Uncle Paul had finished Audubon’s account of that bird’s fierce and destructive rapacity.
“Destroy them,” was the reply, “destroy them by every possible means, for we can count on no assistance from other than human helpers. Eagles are the tyrants of the air, and no other bird dares attack them. The destruction of their nests is the surest way to put an end to the ravages they from time to time commit among our flocks. But it is an enterprise not without danger to make one’s way to the eagle’s aery and wring the necks of the young birds. The shepherds of the Pyrenees go about this work in couples, one armed with a double-barreled rifle and the other with a long pike. At daybreak, when the eagle is already away hunting, the two nest-destroyers climb to the top of the steep declivity where the aery is situated. The first man, the one armed with the rifle, posts himself on the rocky summit to fire at the eagle if it returns, while the second, his pike fastened to his belt, clambers down from rock to rock to the aery and removes the [[138]]eaglets, which are still too young to offer serious resistance. But at their first cry of distress the mother hastens to the rescue and hurls herself furiously at her enemy, who receives her with blows of his pike until his comrade brings her down with a well-aimed shot. The male, until then soaring among the clouds, now descends like a thunderbolt and is on the hunter’s head before the man has time to use his pike. Fortunately a second bullet from the rifle-man stationed above breaks the bird’s wing.”
