CHAPTER XVII

[Contents]CHAPTER XVIITHE EAGLE“If it were my purpose to give you a systematic and scientific account of birds, instead of acquainting you with the various species useful to agriculture, I ought to have begun with birds that hunt by day and to have postponed my talks on those that hunt by night; in other words, the eagle, the falcon, and the hawk should have been described first. But should you ask me why, I should be rather at a loss for a satisfactory answer. For want of a better let us content ourselves with this one: the first do their work by day, the second at night. But the eagle and the others of that group live at our expense, while the horned owl and its kind render us a great service by holding in check what would else be a disastrous multiplication of rodents. Consequently, in point of usefulness, the night-bird comes first.“But this is contrary to all usage, both scientific and popular, which puts the eagle first in the list of birds. Do we not say of the eagle that it is the king of birds? Why has this title been given to the fierce bandit, the murderer of lambs? I should be puzzled to answer this question did I not know man’s inclination to glorify brute strength even though he[130]himself may be its victim. You, my children, will find that out only too soon, to your sorrow. Plunder on a grand scale appeals, alas, to something in our faulty human nature that makes us excuse it; nay, more, that makes us glorify it; whereas productive toil, useful to all, leaves us cold or even disdainful. The falcon is a ravisher of our hen-houses, a bloodthirsty marauder of our dove-cotes; and we hold it in high esteem, calling it a noble bird. Shall we, then, never learn to judge animals and men by their true worth, their real usefulness? Let us hope that as so many fine minds have worked, are working, and always will work to bring about this miracle, you, my children, will some day follow their example. Work for this end with all your power, and blessings be upon you if you succeed in giving some additional strength, however little it may be, to this common effort put forth by all men of light and leading.“I shall discuss but briefly the birds of prey whose activities are confined to the daylight hours. They are nearly all bandits, nothing else, living at our cost by robbery and murder. From the fact that they hunt by day, never at night, they are called diurnal or day birds of prey. The brightest light does not dazzle them. It is even said of the eagle and others of this class that they can look straight at the sun, and this is credited to them as an added title of nobility. But there is no great merit in this performance when once you know how they shade[131]their eyes in accomplishing it. They have three eyelids to each eye: first, two like ours, an upper and a lower, which close in sleep, and then a third, which is semi-transparent and is withdrawn completely into the corner of the eye when the bird has no use for it, but when needed comes out from under the other two, which remain open, and serves as a curtain. If the light is too bright or the bird wishes to look toward the sun, it has merely to draw over the eye this third eyelid, this eye-shade, through the semi-transparency of which the rays of light enter the pupil in a much subdued intensity. There you have the whole secret of the eagle’s bold look in facing the sun.”Golden EagleGolden Eagle“I could do as much if I shaded my eyes with a curtain,” Emile declared.“All these birds are furnished with a very strong beak having hooked mandibles for dismembering their prey. Their claws are composed of four separate talons to each foot, three of these talons pointing forward and one backward. The talons are long, recurved, and grooved on the under side, the grooves having sharp edges that they may the better cut into flesh. The eagle’s bearing is bold, its looks stern, and its flight marvelously powerful. Eagles like to circle about in the air, to soar with[132]scarcely a movement of the wings in the upper regions of the atmosphere beyond our view. Nevertheless, even from this immense height they can distinguish what is taking place on the earth’s surface below. They explore every farm with their piercing eyes and inspect every poultry-yard. Let a suitable prey show itself, and instantly the bird swoops down with whistling wing, faster than lead would fall. The unwary fowl is snatched from under the farmer’s very eyes.“Fortunately, the eagle, the chief of these bandits, is a very rare bird. In form it is large, measuring a meter and more from the tip of the beak to the tip of the tail, and it is covered with brown plumage. Its extended wings measure a span of nearly three meters. Its fierce eye, overshadowed by a very prominent eyebrow, glows with a somber fire. The eagle’s nest is known as its aery, and is flat instead of bowl-shaped like other birds’ nests. It is a sort of solid floor made of interwoven twigs and covered with a bed of rushes and heather. It is commonly placed on the face of some steep and forbidding precipice and between two rocks, the upper one of which overhangs and forms a kind of roof for the nest. The eggs, two in number—sometimes, though rarely, three—are of a dingy white spotted with red. The young eaglets are so greedy that at the time of their rearing the aery is strewn with bits of bleeding flesh. Some neighboring ledge of rock serves the parents as slaughter-house and cutting-up bench. It is there that the hares and rabbits,[133]partridges and ducks, lambs and kids, seized in the plains and carried in rapid flight to the lofty heights where the eagle makes its home, are torn to pieces in order to be fed to the ever-hungry eaglets.”“Is the eagle really strong enough,” asked Emile, “to carry off a lamb like that? I had heard it, but couldn’t believe it.”“Nothing is less open to doubt,” his uncle assured him. “It would carry you off if it found you alone in the mountains.”“I could defend myself with a stick.”“Possibly; but let me tell you an incident, one of many to be found in the pages of an author whose word we may believe.Bald EagleBald Eagle“Two little girls, one five years old, the other three, were playing together when a medium-sized eagle suddenly swooped down upon the elder and despite her companion’s cries, and in the very face of some workmen who came hurrying to the spot, snatched her up into the air. Two months later a shepherd found, on a rock half a league distant, the body of the child half devoured and dried up.“What do you think now of the eagle, the king of birds?”“I think it’s a brigand of the worst kind,” affirmed Jules.“Would you like to see an eagle in the act of[134]hunting, witness its fierce joy when it buries its hooked talons in the quivering flesh of its prey? Then listen to this fine passage from the pen of that ardent lover of birds, Audubon. The scene is laid far from here, in America, and the eagle belongs to a different species from ours; but never mind, the ways of these bandits are the same everywhere.“ ‘To give you some idea of the nature of this bird, permit me to place you on the Mississippi, on which you may float gently along, while approaching winter brings millions of water-fowl on whistling wings, from the countries of the north, to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for a season. The Eagle is seen perched in an erect attitude, on the highest summit of the tallest tree by the margin of the broad stream. His glistening but stern eye looks over the vast expanse. He listens attentively to every sound that comes to his quick ear from afar, glancing now and then on the earth beneath, lest even the light tread of the fawn may pass unheard. His mate is perched on the opposite side, and should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to continue patient. At this well known call, the male partly opens his broad wings, inclines his body a little downwards, and answers to her voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a maniac. The next moment, he resumes his erect attitude, and again all around is silent. Ducks of many species, the Teal, the Wigeon, the Mallard and others, are seen passing with great rapidity, and following the course of the current; but the Eagle heeds them not: they are at[135]that time beneath his attention. The next moment, however, the wild trumpetlike sound of a yet distant but approaching Swan is heard. A shriek from the female Eagle comes across the stream,—for she is as fully on the alert as her mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole of his body, and with a few touches of his bill, aided by the action of his cuticular muscles, arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow-white bird is now in sight: her long neck is stretched forward, her eye is on the watch, vigilant as that of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty to support the weight of her body, although they flap incessantly. So irksome do her exertions seem, that her very legs are spread beneath her tail, to aid her in her flight. She approaches, however. The Eagle has marked her for his prey. As the Swan is passing the dreaded pair, the male bird, in full preparation for the chase, starts from his perch with an awful scream, that to the Swan’s ear brings more terror than the report of the large duck-gun.“ ‘Now is the moment to witness the display of the Eagle’s powers. He glides through the air like a falling star, and, like a flash of lightning, comes upon the timorous quarry, which now, in agony and despair, seeks, by various manœuvres, to elude the grasp of his cruel talons. It mounts, doubles, and willingly would plunge into the stream, were it not prevented by the Eagle, which, long possessed of the knowledge that by such a stratagem the Swan might escape him, forces it to remain in the air by attempting to strike it with his talons from beneath.[136]The hope of escape is soon given up by the Swan. It has already become much weakened, and its strength fails at the sight of the courage and swiftness of its antagonist. Its last gasp is about to escape, when the ferocious Eagle strikes with his talons the under side of its wings, and with unresisted power forces the bird to fall in a slanting direction upon the nearest shore.“ ‘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]1Audubon: “Ornithological Biography,” I. 160–162.—Translator.↑

CHAPTER XVIITHE EAGLE

“If it were my purpose to give you a systematic and scientific account of birds, instead of acquainting you with the various species useful to agriculture, I ought to have begun with birds that hunt by day and to have postponed my talks on those that hunt by night; in other words, the eagle, the falcon, and the hawk should have been described first. But should you ask me why, I should be rather at a loss for a satisfactory answer. For want of a better let us content ourselves with this one: the first do their work by day, the second at night. But the eagle and the others of that group live at our expense, while the horned owl and its kind render us a great service by holding in check what would else be a disastrous multiplication of rodents. Consequently, in point of usefulness, the night-bird comes first.“But this is contrary to all usage, both scientific and popular, which puts the eagle first in the list of birds. Do we not say of the eagle that it is the king of birds? Why has this title been given to the fierce bandit, the murderer of lambs? I should be puzzled to answer this question did I not know man’s inclination to glorify brute strength even though he[130]himself may be its victim. You, my children, will find that out only too soon, to your sorrow. Plunder on a grand scale appeals, alas, to something in our faulty human nature that makes us excuse it; nay, more, that makes us glorify it; whereas productive toil, useful to all, leaves us cold or even disdainful. The falcon is a ravisher of our hen-houses, a bloodthirsty marauder of our dove-cotes; and we hold it in high esteem, calling it a noble bird. Shall we, then, never learn to judge animals and men by their true worth, their real usefulness? Let us hope that as so many fine minds have worked, are working, and always will work to bring about this miracle, you, my children, will some day follow their example. Work for this end with all your power, and blessings be upon you if you succeed in giving some additional strength, however little it may be, to this common effort put forth by all men of light and leading.“I shall discuss but briefly the birds of prey whose activities are confined to the daylight hours. They are nearly all bandits, nothing else, living at our cost by robbery and murder. From the fact that they hunt by day, never at night, they are called diurnal or day birds of prey. The brightest light does not dazzle them. It is even said of the eagle and others of this class that they can look straight at the sun, and this is credited to them as an added title of nobility. But there is no great merit in this performance when once you know how they shade[131]their eyes in accomplishing it. They have three eyelids to each eye: first, two like ours, an upper and a lower, which close in sleep, and then a third, which is semi-transparent and is withdrawn completely into the corner of the eye when the bird has no use for it, but when needed comes out from under the other two, which remain open, and serves as a curtain. If the light is too bright or the bird wishes to look toward the sun, it has merely to draw over the eye this third eyelid, this eye-shade, through the semi-transparency of which the rays of light enter the pupil in a much subdued intensity. There you have the whole secret of the eagle’s bold look in facing the sun.”Golden EagleGolden Eagle“I could do as much if I shaded my eyes with a curtain,” Emile declared.“All these birds are furnished with a very strong beak having hooked mandibles for dismembering their prey. Their claws are composed of four separate talons to each foot, three of these talons pointing forward and one backward. The talons are long, recurved, and grooved on the under side, the grooves having sharp edges that they may the better cut into flesh. The eagle’s bearing is bold, its looks stern, and its flight marvelously powerful. Eagles like to circle about in the air, to soar with[132]scarcely a movement of the wings in the upper regions of the atmosphere beyond our view. Nevertheless, even from this immense height they can distinguish what is taking place on the earth’s surface below. They explore every farm with their piercing eyes and inspect every poultry-yard. Let a suitable prey show itself, and instantly the bird swoops down with whistling wing, faster than lead would fall. The unwary fowl is snatched from under the farmer’s very eyes.“Fortunately, the eagle, the chief of these bandits, is a very rare bird. In form it is large, measuring a meter and more from the tip of the beak to the tip of the tail, and it is covered with brown plumage. Its extended wings measure a span of nearly three meters. Its fierce eye, overshadowed by a very prominent eyebrow, glows with a somber fire. The eagle’s nest is known as its aery, and is flat instead of bowl-shaped like other birds’ nests. It is a sort of solid floor made of interwoven twigs and covered with a bed of rushes and heather. It is commonly placed on the face of some steep and forbidding precipice and between two rocks, the upper one of which overhangs and forms a kind of roof for the nest. The eggs, two in number—sometimes, though rarely, three—are of a dingy white spotted with red. The young eaglets are so greedy that at the time of their rearing the aery is strewn with bits of bleeding flesh. Some neighboring ledge of rock serves the parents as slaughter-house and cutting-up bench. It is there that the hares and rabbits,[133]partridges and ducks, lambs and kids, seized in the plains and carried in rapid flight to the lofty heights where the eagle makes its home, are torn to pieces in order to be fed to the ever-hungry eaglets.”“Is the eagle really strong enough,” asked Emile, “to carry off a lamb like that? I had heard it, but couldn’t believe it.”“Nothing is less open to doubt,” his uncle assured him. “It would carry you off if it found you alone in the mountains.”“I could defend myself with a stick.”“Possibly; but let me tell you an incident, one of many to be found in the pages of an author whose word we may believe.Bald EagleBald Eagle“Two little girls, one five years old, the other three, were playing together when a medium-sized eagle suddenly swooped down upon the elder and despite her companion’s cries, and in the very face of some workmen who came hurrying to the spot, snatched her up into the air. Two months later a shepherd found, on a rock half a league distant, the body of the child half devoured and dried up.“What do you think now of the eagle, the king of birds?”“I think it’s a brigand of the worst kind,” affirmed Jules.“Would you like to see an eagle in the act of[134]hunting, witness its fierce joy when it buries its hooked talons in the quivering flesh of its prey? Then listen to this fine passage from the pen of that ardent lover of birds, Audubon. The scene is laid far from here, in America, and the eagle belongs to a different species from ours; but never mind, the ways of these bandits are the same everywhere.“ ‘To give you some idea of the nature of this bird, permit me to place you on the Mississippi, on which you may float gently along, while approaching winter brings millions of water-fowl on whistling wings, from the countries of the north, to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for a season. The Eagle is seen perched in an erect attitude, on the highest summit of the tallest tree by the margin of the broad stream. His glistening but stern eye looks over the vast expanse. He listens attentively to every sound that comes to his quick ear from afar, glancing now and then on the earth beneath, lest even the light tread of the fawn may pass unheard. His mate is perched on the opposite side, and should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to continue patient. At this well known call, the male partly opens his broad wings, inclines his body a little downwards, and answers to her voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a maniac. The next moment, he resumes his erect attitude, and again all around is silent. Ducks of many species, the Teal, the Wigeon, the Mallard and others, are seen passing with great rapidity, and following the course of the current; but the Eagle heeds them not: they are at[135]that time beneath his attention. The next moment, however, the wild trumpetlike sound of a yet distant but approaching Swan is heard. A shriek from the female Eagle comes across the stream,—for she is as fully on the alert as her mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole of his body, and with a few touches of his bill, aided by the action of his cuticular muscles, arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow-white bird is now in sight: her long neck is stretched forward, her eye is on the watch, vigilant as that of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty to support the weight of her body, although they flap incessantly. So irksome do her exertions seem, that her very legs are spread beneath her tail, to aid her in her flight. She approaches, however. The Eagle has marked her for his prey. As the Swan is passing the dreaded pair, the male bird, in full preparation for the chase, starts from his perch with an awful scream, that to the Swan’s ear brings more terror than the report of the large duck-gun.“ ‘Now is the moment to witness the display of the Eagle’s powers. He glides through the air like a falling star, and, like a flash of lightning, comes upon the timorous quarry, which now, in agony and despair, seeks, by various manœuvres, to elude the grasp of his cruel talons. It mounts, doubles, and willingly would plunge into the stream, were it not prevented by the Eagle, which, long possessed of the knowledge that by such a stratagem the Swan might escape him, forces it to remain in the air by attempting to strike it with his talons from beneath.[136]The hope of escape is soon given up by the Swan. It has already become much weakened, and its strength fails at the sight of the courage and swiftness of its antagonist. Its last gasp is about to escape, when the ferocious Eagle strikes with his talons the under side of its wings, and with unresisted power forces the bird to fall in a slanting direction upon the nearest shore.“ ‘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]

“But this is contrary to all usage, both scientific and popular, which puts the eagle first in the list of birds. Do we not say of the eagle that it is the king of birds? Why has this title been given to the fierce bandit, the murderer of lambs? I should be puzzled to answer this question did I not know man’s inclination to glorify brute strength even though he[130]himself may be its victim. You, my children, will find that out only too soon, to your sorrow. Plunder on a grand scale appeals, alas, to something in our faulty human nature that makes us excuse it; nay, more, that makes us glorify it; whereas productive toil, useful to all, leaves us cold or even disdainful. The falcon is a ravisher of our hen-houses, a bloodthirsty marauder of our dove-cotes; and we hold it in high esteem, calling it a noble bird. Shall we, then, never learn to judge animals and men by their true worth, their real usefulness? Let us hope that as so many fine minds have worked, are working, and always will work to bring about this miracle, you, my children, will some day follow their example. Work for this end with all your power, and blessings be upon you if you succeed in giving some additional strength, however little it may be, to this common effort put forth by all men of light and leading.

“I shall discuss but briefly the birds of prey whose activities are confined to the daylight hours. They are nearly all bandits, nothing else, living at our cost by robbery and murder. From the fact that they hunt by day, never at night, they are called diurnal or day birds of prey. The brightest light does not dazzle them. It is even said of the eagle and others of this class that they can look straight at the sun, and this is credited to them as an added title of nobility. But there is no great merit in this performance when once you know how they shade[131]their eyes in accomplishing it. They have three eyelids to each eye: first, two like ours, an upper and a lower, which close in sleep, and then a third, which is semi-transparent and is withdrawn completely into the corner of the eye when the bird has no use for it, but when needed comes out from under the other two, which remain open, and serves as a curtain. If the light is too bright or the bird wishes to look toward the sun, it has merely to draw over the eye this third eyelid, this eye-shade, through the semi-transparency of which the rays of light enter the pupil in a much subdued intensity. There you have the whole secret of the eagle’s bold look in facing the sun.”

Golden EagleGolden Eagle

Golden Eagle

“I could do as much if I shaded my eyes with a curtain,” Emile declared.

“All these birds are furnished with a very strong beak having hooked mandibles for dismembering their prey. Their claws are composed of four separate talons to each foot, three of these talons pointing forward and one backward. The talons are long, recurved, and grooved on the under side, the grooves having sharp edges that they may the better cut into flesh. The eagle’s bearing is bold, its looks stern, and its flight marvelously powerful. Eagles like to circle about in the air, to soar with[132]scarcely a movement of the wings in the upper regions of the atmosphere beyond our view. Nevertheless, even from this immense height they can distinguish what is taking place on the earth’s surface below. They explore every farm with their piercing eyes and inspect every poultry-yard. Let a suitable prey show itself, and instantly the bird swoops down with whistling wing, faster than lead would fall. The unwary fowl is snatched from under the farmer’s very eyes.

“Fortunately, the eagle, the chief of these bandits, is a very rare bird. In form it is large, measuring a meter and more from the tip of the beak to the tip of the tail, and it is covered with brown plumage. Its extended wings measure a span of nearly three meters. Its fierce eye, overshadowed by a very prominent eyebrow, glows with a somber fire. The eagle’s nest is known as its aery, and is flat instead of bowl-shaped like other birds’ nests. It is a sort of solid floor made of interwoven twigs and covered with a bed of rushes and heather. It is commonly placed on the face of some steep and forbidding precipice and between two rocks, the upper one of which overhangs and forms a kind of roof for the nest. The eggs, two in number—sometimes, though rarely, three—are of a dingy white spotted with red. The young eaglets are so greedy that at the time of their rearing the aery is strewn with bits of bleeding flesh. Some neighboring ledge of rock serves the parents as slaughter-house and cutting-up bench. It is there that the hares and rabbits,[133]partridges and ducks, lambs and kids, seized in the plains and carried in rapid flight to the lofty heights where the eagle makes its home, are torn to pieces in order to be fed to the ever-hungry eaglets.”

“Is the eagle really strong enough,” asked Emile, “to carry off a lamb like that? I had heard it, but couldn’t believe it.”

“Nothing is less open to doubt,” his uncle assured him. “It would carry you off if it found you alone in the mountains.”

“I could defend myself with a stick.”

“Possibly; but let me tell you an incident, one of many to be found in the pages of an author whose word we may believe.

Bald EagleBald Eagle

Bald Eagle

“Two little girls, one five years old, the other three, were playing together when a medium-sized eagle suddenly swooped down upon the elder and despite her companion’s cries, and in the very face of some workmen who came hurrying to the spot, snatched her up into the air. Two months later a shepherd found, on a rock half a league distant, the body of the child half devoured and dried up.

“What do you think now of the eagle, the king of birds?”

“I think it’s a brigand of the worst kind,” affirmed Jules.

“Would you like to see an eagle in the act of[134]hunting, witness its fierce joy when it buries its hooked talons in the quivering flesh of its prey? Then listen to this fine passage from the pen of that ardent lover of birds, Audubon. The scene is laid far from here, in America, and the eagle belongs to a different species from ours; but never mind, the ways of these bandits are the same everywhere.

“ ‘To give you some idea of the nature of this bird, permit me to place you on the Mississippi, on which you may float gently along, while approaching winter brings millions of water-fowl on whistling wings, from the countries of the north, to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for a season. The Eagle is seen perched in an erect attitude, on the highest summit of the tallest tree by the margin of the broad stream. His glistening but stern eye looks over the vast expanse. He listens attentively to every sound that comes to his quick ear from afar, glancing now and then on the earth beneath, lest even the light tread of the fawn may pass unheard. His mate is perched on the opposite side, and should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to continue patient. At this well known call, the male partly opens his broad wings, inclines his body a little downwards, and answers to her voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a maniac. The next moment, he resumes his erect attitude, and again all around is silent. Ducks of many species, the Teal, the Wigeon, the Mallard and others, are seen passing with great rapidity, and following the course of the current; but the Eagle heeds them not: they are at[135]that time beneath his attention. The next moment, however, the wild trumpetlike sound of a yet distant but approaching Swan is heard. A shriek from the female Eagle comes across the stream,—for she is as fully on the alert as her mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole of his body, and with a few touches of his bill, aided by the action of his cuticular muscles, arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow-white bird is now in sight: her long neck is stretched forward, her eye is on the watch, vigilant as that of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty to support the weight of her body, although they flap incessantly. So irksome do her exertions seem, that her very legs are spread beneath her tail, to aid her in her flight. She approaches, however. The Eagle has marked her for his prey. As the Swan is passing the dreaded pair, the male bird, in full preparation for the chase, starts from his perch with an awful scream, that to the Swan’s ear brings more terror than the report of the large duck-gun.

“ ‘Now is the moment to witness the display of the Eagle’s powers. He glides through the air like a falling star, and, like a flash of lightning, comes upon the timorous quarry, which now, in agony and despair, seeks, by various manœuvres, to elude the grasp of his cruel talons. It mounts, doubles, and willingly would plunge into the stream, were it not prevented by the Eagle, which, long possessed of the knowledge that by such a stratagem the Swan might escape him, forces it to remain in the air by attempting to strike it with his talons from beneath.[136]The hope of escape is soon given up by the Swan. It has already become much weakened, and its strength fails at the sight of the courage and swiftness of its antagonist. Its last gasp is about to escape, when the ferocious Eagle strikes with his talons the under side of its wings, and with unresisted power forces the bird to fall in a slanting direction upon the nearest shore.

“ ‘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]

1Audubon: “Ornithological Biography,” I. 160–162.—Translator.↑

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