the aërie. When the wind blows from a favourable point, the eagle in the
grey of morning sweeps through the cabins, and never fails in carrying
off some prey.

To black fowls eagles appear particularly attached, and the villagers
avoid as much as possible rearing birds of that colour.

A few days before, one of the coast-guard, alarmed by the cries of a
boy, rushed from the watch-house; the eagle had taken up a black hen,
and, as he passed within a few yards, the man flung his cap at him. The
eagle dropped the bird; it was quite dead, however, the talons having
shattered the back-bone. The villagers say (with what truth I know not)
that turkeys are never taken.

That the eagle is extremely destructive to fish, and particularly so to
salmon, many circumstances would prove. They are constantly discovered
watching the fords in the spawning season, and are seen to seize and
carry off the fish. One curious anecdote I heard from my friend the
priest. Some years since a herdsman, on a very sultry day in July, while
looking for a missing sheep, observed an eagle posted on a bank that
overhung a pool. Presently the bird stooped and seized a salmon, and a
violent struggle ensued; when the herd reached the spot, he found the
eagle pulled under water by the strength of the fish, and the calmness
of the day, joined to drenched plumage, rendered him unable to extricate
himself. With a stone the peasant broke the eagle's pinion, and actually
secured the spoiler and his victim, for he found the salmon dying in his
grasp.

When shooting on Lord Sligo's mountains, near the Killeries, I heard
many particulars of the eagle's habit and history from a grey-haired