If inclined to a more gradual and less precipitous descent, he fixes
his eye on some distant point in the earth beneath him, and thither
bends his course. He is still almost meteoric in his speed and
boldness. You see his path down the heavens, straight as a line; if
near, you hear the rush of his wings; his shadow hurtles across the
fields, and in an instant you see him quietly perched upon some low
tree or decayed stub in a swamp or meadow, with reminiscences of frogs
and mice stirring in his maw.

When the south wind blows, it is a study to see three or four of these
air-kings at the head of the valley far up toward the mountain,
balancing and oscillating upon the strong current; now quite
stationary, except a slight tremulous motion like the poise of a
rope-dancer, then rising and falling in long undulations, and seeming
to resign themselves passively to the wind; or, again sailing high and
level far above the mountain's peak, no bluster and haste, but as
stated, occasionally a terrible earnestness and speed. Fire at one as
he sails overhead and, unless wounded badly, he will not change his
course or gait.

His flight is a perfect picture of repose in motion. It strikes the
eye as more surprising than the flight of a pigeon, and swallow even,
in that the effort put forth is so uniform and delicate as to escape
observation, giving to the movement an air of buoyancy and perpetuity,
the effluence of power rather than the conscious application of it.

The calmness and dignity of this hawk, when attacked by crows or the
kingbird, are well worth of him. He seldom deigns to notice his noisy
and furious antagonists, but deliberately wheels about in that aerial