Then I
Heard The Wailing Cry Of A Peewit, And Caught Sight Of The
Bird At A Distance, And Soon Afterwards A Sound Of Another
Character - The Harsh Angry Cry Of A Carrion Crow, Almost As
Deep As The Raven's Angry Voice.
Before long I discovered the
bird at a great height coming towards me in hot pursuit of a
kestrel.
They passed directly over me so that I had them a
long time in sight, the kestrel travelling quietly on in the
face of the wind, the crow toiling after, and at intervals
spurting till he got near enough to hurl himself at his enemy,
emitting his croaks of rage. For invariably the kestrel with
one of his sudden swallow-like turns avoided the blow and went
on as before. I watched them until they were lost to sight in
the coming blackness and wondered that so intelligent a
creature as a crow should waste his energies in that vain
chase. Still one could understand it and even sympathize with
him. For the kestrel is a most insulting creature towards the
bigger birds. He knows that they are incapable of paying him
out, and when he finds them off their guard he will drop down
and inflict a blow just for the fun of the thing. This
outraged crow appeared determined to have his revenge.
Then the storm broke on me, and so fiercely did the rain and
sleet thrash me that, fearing a cold soaking, I fled before it
to the rim of the plain, where the wheatear had vanished, and
saw a couple of hundred yards down on the smooth steep slope a
thicket of dwarf trees.
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