The Golden Eagle is so called from the tawny or golden-brown colour which pervades the feathers of the neck in the old bird. Excepting in certain places in “Caledonia stern and wild,” where it is protected, it is a species which is becoming very rare in Great Britain, and but for the intervention of a few large-minded proprietors in Scotland would doubtless ere this have been extinguished. It is a much rarer bird now than the White-tailed Eagle, and the last-named species is often mistaken for it; but a little attention to one point will obviate all fear of a mistake in this respect, the Golden Eagle having at all ages the tarsus feathered to the toes, whereas the Sea Eagle belongs to the bare-legged section of these birds.
A better description of the habits of the Golden Eagle probably does not exist than that given by the late Professor Macgillivray:—
“See how the sunshine brightens the yellow tint of his head and neck, until it shines almost like gold! There he stands, nearly erect, with his tail depressed, his large wings half raised by his side, his neck stretched out and his eye glistening as he glances around. Like other robbers of the desert, he has a noble aspect, an imperative mien, a look of proud defiance; but his nobility has a dash of clownishness, and his falconship a vulturine tinge. Still, he is a noble bird, powerful, independent, proud, and ferocious, regardless of the weal or woe of others, and intent solely on the gratification of his own appetites; without generosity, without honour, bold against the defenceless, but ever ready to sneak from danger. Such is his nobility, about which men have so raved. Suddenly he raises his wings, for he has heard the whistle of the shepherd in the corry, and bending forward, he springs into the air. Oh, that this pencil of mine were a musket charged with buck-shot! Hardly do those vigorous flaps serve at first to prevent his descent; but now, curving upwards, he glides majestically along. As he passes the corner of that buttressed and battlemented crag, forth rush two ravens from their nest, croaking fiercely. While one flies above him, the other steals beneath, and they essay to strike him, but dare not, for they have an instinctive knowledge of the power of his grasp, and after following him a little way they return to their home, vainly exulting in the thought of having driven him from their neighbourhood. Bent on a far journey, he advances in a direct course, flapping his great wings at regular intervals, then shooting along without seeming to move them. In ten minutes he has progressed three miles, although he is in no haste, and now disappears behind the shoulder of the hill. But we may follow him in imagination, for his habits being well known to us, we may be allowed the ornithological licence of tracing them in continuance. Homeward bound, his own wants satisfied, he knows that his young must be supplied with food.
“Over the moors he sweeps, at the height of two or three hundred feet, bending his course to either side, his wings wide spread, his neck retracted, now beating the air, and again sailing smoothly along. Suddenly he stops, poises himself for a moment, stoops, but recovers himself without touching the ground. The object of his regards, a Golden Plover, which he had spied on her nest, has eluded him; and he cares not to pursue it. Now he ascends a little, wheels in short curves, presently rushes down headlong, assumes the horizontal position when close to the ground, prevents his being dashed against it by expanding his wings and tail, thrusts forth his talons, and grasping a poor terrified Ptarmigan that sat cowering among the grey lichens, squeezes it to death, raises his head exultingly, emits a clear, shrill cry, and springing from the ground pursues his journey.
GOLDEN EAGLE.
“In passing a tall cliff that overhangs a small lake, he is assailed by a fierce Peregrine Falcon, which darts and plunges at him as if determined to deprive him of his booty, or drive him headlong to the ground. This proves a more dangerous foe than the Raven, and the Eagle screams, yelps, and throws himself into postures of defence; but at length the Hawk, seeing the tyrant is not bent on plundering his nest, leaves him to pursue his course unmolested. Over woods, and green fields, and scattered hamlets speeds the Eagle, and now he enters the long valley of the Dee, near the upper end of which is dimly seen through the grey mist the rock of his nest. About a mile from it he meets his mate, who has been abroad on a similar errand, and is returning with a white Hare in her talons. They congratulate each other with loud yelping cries, which rouse the drowsy shepherd on the strath below, who, mindful of the lambs carried off in spring-time, sends after them his malediction. Now they reach their nest and are greeted by their young with loud clamour.
“Let us mark the spot. It is a shelf of a rock, concealed by a projecting angle, so that it cannot be injured from above, and is too distant from the base to be reached by a shot. In the crevices are luxuriant tufts of Rhodiola rosea, and scattered around are many alpine plants, which it would delight the botanist to enumerate. The mineralogist would not be less pleased could he with chisel and hammer reach that knob which glitters with crystals of quartz and felspar. The nest is a bulky fabric, five feet at least in diameter, rudely constructed of dead sticks, twigs, and heath; flat, unless in the centre, where it is a little hollowed and covered with wool and feathers. Slovenly creatures you would think these two young birds, clothed with white down, amid which the larger feathers are seen projecting, for their fluid dung is scattered all over the sticks, and you see that, had the nest been formed more compactly of softer materials, it would have been less comfortable. Strewn around, too, are fragments of Lambs, Hares, Grouse and other birds in various stages of decay. Alighting on the edges of the nest, the Eagles deposit their prey, partially pluck off the hair and feathers, and rudely tearing up the flesh, lay it before their ever-hungry young.”
The length of a male Golden Eagle is a little more than two feet and a half, while the female attains at least three feet in dimensions, with a wing three inches longer than that of her mate. The colour of the plumage is dark brown, with a rich tawny hue on the back of the neck and nape, the feathers of these parts being streaked with darker brown; the tail is more or less mottled with grey at the base, and is whiter in younger birds. The latter are often popularly distinguished as the Ring-tailed Eagles. By some authors the Eagle which frequents the mountains is considered to be a different species from that which inhabits the plains, but as far as present experience goes it is the younger birds which are more often met with in the latter localities, being probably driven from their mountain homes by the older birds. The Golden Eagle varies his choice of an eyry in different localities, building in the British Islands generally on a rock, but in many other countries nesting on a tree. It is found all over Europe and Northern Asia, in mountainous districts, extending into China and even into the Himalayas, whence the finest specimens are obtained. In North America also the examples of the Golden Eagle seem to be very large, but are not to be otherwise distinguished from European specimens.
THE KITE EAGLE (Neopus[189] malayensis).