be even more daring and destructive than its larger relation, the
peregrine. It flies at a great height, and sometimes descends vertically
and with extraordinary velocity, the wings producing a sound like a
deep-toned horn. The sound is doubtless produced at will, and is
certainly less advantageous to the hawk than to the birds it pursues. No
doubt it can afford to despise the wing-power of its quarry; and I have
sometimes thought that it takes a tyrannous delight in witnessing the
consternation caused by its hollow trumpeting sound. This may be only a
fancy, but some hawks do certainly take pleasure in pursuing and
striking birds when not seeking prey. The peregrine has been observed,
Baird says, capturing birds, only to kill and drop them. Many of the
Felidae, we know, evince a similar habit; only these prolong their
pleasure by practising a more refined and deliberate cruelty.

The sudden appearance overhead of this hawk produces an effect wonderful
to witness. I have frequently seen all the inhabitants of a marsh struck
with panic, acting as if demented, and suddenly grown careless to all
other dangers; and on such occasions I have looked up confident of
seeing the sharp-winged death, suspended above them in the sky. All
birds that happen to be on the wing drop down as if shot into the reeds
or water; ducks away from the margin stretch out their necks
horizontally and drag their bodies, as if wounded, into closer cover;
not one bird is found bold enough to rise up and wheel about the
marauder--a usual proceeding in the case of other hawks; while, at every
sudden stoop the falcon makes, threatening to dash down on his prey, a
low cry of terror rises from the birds beneath; a sound expressive of an
emotion so contagious that it quickly runs like a murmur all over the
marsh, as if a gust of wind had swept moaning through, the rushes. As
long as the falcon hangs overhead, always at a height of about forty
yards, threatening at intervals to dash down, this murmuring sound, made