The Boy Hunters

by Mayne Reid

When first seen he was sailing in circles,—or rather in a spiral curve, that was constantly contracting downward and inward. The centre of that curve was the spot occupied by the snake.

It was a beautiful sight to behold this creature cutting the thin air. His flight was the beau idéal of ease and gracefulness—for in this no bird can equal the kite. Not a stroke of his long pointed wings betrayed that he needed their assistance; and he seemed to glory that he could navigate the air without them. Besides, the motion of these, had he used them, might have caught the eye of his intended victim, and warned it of the danger. I say it was a beautiful sight to watch him as he swam through his aery circles, at one moment appearing all white—as his breast was turned to the spectators—the next moment his black back and purple wings glittering in the sun, as sideways he guided himself down the spiral curve. It was a beautiful sight, and the young hunters stood gazing with silent admiration.

Basil and François wondered that he did not at once pounce upon the snake, for towards it his flight was evidently tending. They had seen other hawks do this—such as the red-tailed, the peregrine, and the osprey—which last sometimes shoots several hundred feet perpendicularly down upon its prey. Lucien, however, knew better. He knew that that feat can be performed only by those hawks whose tails are full and not forked, as the bald eagle, and the species already named—their spreading tails giving them the power to suddenly arrest the downward motion, and prevent them from dashing themselves against the earth. The kites, on the other hand, have not that power; and in this arrangement Lucien could perceive a beautiful adaptation of Nature—an equalising of advantages between these two kinds of birds. He reasoned thus:—

The hawks, although swift of wing, and capable of extended flight, cannot remain long in the air. They grow weary and need rest, which they take, perching themselves upon some tree. It may be observed, moreover, that they choose dead trees that overlook an open space. They do so, in order that the leaves may not obstruct their vision—thus giving them a wider range, and, consequently, a better chance of espying their prey. But even with this advantage their chances of seeing their prey are circumscribed, when compared with that of hawks upon the wing; and they are frequently compelled to take to the air in order to discover it.

Now the kites are always in the air, or nearly so. They, in fact, live upon the wing, eating their food as they fly, from their claws. Living thus, they have many more chances of seeing their prey than their cousins of the hawk species; and were they possessed of the power to pounce upon it with as much certainty as the latter do, it is evident they would have greatly the advantage. The want of that capability, however, brings them upon an equality; and, as I have said, Lucien perceived in this that peculiar equilibrium, or “balance of power,” which constantly presents itself to the student of Nature.

These thoughts passed through his mind at the moment. They occupied but a moment however—for it was but a few seconds from the time the kite was first noticed wheeling high in the air, until he swept along the tops of the low trees, so close that the boys could distinguish the red iris of his glistening eyes.

Now, for the first time, the snake caught sight of him. Hitherto it had been too much occupied with its own prey, which it had succeeded in swallowing. The shadow of the broad wings fell upon the sunlit sward directly before its eyes. It looked up, and saw its terrible enemy. It seemed to shiver through its whole length, and turn paler in colour. It struck its head into the grass, endeavouring to hide itself. It was too late. The kite swooped gently downward; and, with open claw, poised himself a moment over the spot. As he rose again, the reptile was seen wriggling in his talons!

A few strokes of his bold wing carried the kite upward, above the tops of the tallest trees; but he was observed to fly heavily. As he rose higher, the flapping of his wings became more hurried and irregular. It was evident that something was impeding his flight. The snake was no longer hanging from his talons. The reptile had twined itself around his body; and its glistening folds, like red bands, could be seen half-buried in the white plumage of the bird!

All at once the kite began to flutter—then one of his wings disappeared; and, notwithstanding the hurried flapping of the other, both bird and serpent fell heavily to the earth!

They fell close to the spot from whence they had risen. Neither was killed by the fall, nor, to all appearance, hurt; for, the moment after they had touched the ground, both were seen engaged in a violent struggle—the bird evidently endeavouring to free himself from the folds of the reptile, while the latter seemed equally bent upon holding him! The snake knew well that this was its only hope; for, should it unfold itself and endeavour to escape, it would only give the kite an opportunity of clutching it a second time, when he would be certain to do it with more fatal effect. It was because the reptile had buried its head in the grass that the kite had failed in seizing it properly by the neck, and putting an end to it at once.