15 MAY 1920, Page 8

THE BUZZARD.

NOT long ago the beautiful buzzard might, so far as Rngland is concerned, have been described as a mere tradition bird whose name one occasionally came across among old- fashioned naturalists' memoirs. Such is hardly the case to-day.

Game-preserving has declined in certain districts. The keeper has been compelled to stay his destroying hand, and the great hawk has reappeared. - During recent years I have come to know of several spots where it breeds regularly, but forbear to mention the exact localities for reasons which any lover of Nature will appreciate.

-True, the bird is protected by law, but this unfortunately means little. The law is useful in that it affords moral support to those more intelligent and sportsmanlike of landowners who prefer to preserve the nobler birds of prey rather than see their woods converted into glorified poultry-yards. Otherwise it exists in little save name. Not that there is any particular laxity with regard to buzzards. I simply mean that it is extremely difficult to enforce any such law. A would-be M.P., when addressing his constituents in a remote Devonshire village, was once asked to support an Act which would allow any tenant farmer to kill what game he pleased with an ordinary gun licence.

• He was at a loss for an answer, the demand being popular, but at direct variance with the policy of his party. However, the village squire, who was acting as chairman, came to his relief, turning the tables skilfully. "Gentlemen, I don't think we need bother Mr. Brown in this matter. Such an Act is hardly necessary. Nobody in the parish save me takes out a game licence, but I am sure I shoot less pheasants than any farmer here."

This anecdote, though somewhat outside the subject, fur- nishes a typical illustration. The buzzard, however, if given anything like a fair chance, scarcely needs legal protection.

The bird is marvellously quick of eye and ear, and during the greater part of the year can only be approached with extreme care. It is during the breeding season that it, like many another; falls an easy victim. The nest, a huge platform of sticks high up some forest tree, is conspicuous enough, and it is a simple matter to lurk in ambush and pot the incoming bird. Such was the fate of a pair I knew of last season. I had studied them all the winter and marked their nesting-place, only to experience the annoyance of having them shot by a skulking trapper, probably more predatory and certainly far less ornamental to society in general than the birds he destroyed. The case was merely one of many. The arm of the law was as withholding is ever. The man openly boasted of his achievement, and busily carried the dead birds to the lady of the manor as trophies.

he was pleased with the attention, and the culprit not only :seeped the penalty to which he was liable but received a hand- some " tip " for his pains.

I have known of one solitary instance when a man has got into trouble for such an offence. This was a somewhat peculiar case. A certain farmer blundered upon a buzzard when out shooting. It rose before him suddenly, and, needless to say, he could not resist blazing at it. It came down "thump," and in its claws was a viper, still wriggling. The man was quite unconscious of having transgressed, and wrote a letter to the local papers describing the incident, he being under the impression that he had done something creditable. Unfortunately for him, the authorities thought otherwise. He was summoned and fined heavily.

However, despite its uphill fight for existence, this rare and beautiful hawk is certainly extending its range among the Western woods, where its wild wailing cry is now no unusual sound. This is generally uttered when upon the wing, sometimes serving as a call, sometimes as an alarm note. He looks a very big fellow when he is sailing in the air. The great breadth of wing and the peculiar creaking swish of his pinions suggest a bulk which he does not really possess. In truth he is particularly light in body, a fact which in itself disproves the absurd charges of lamb-stealing and such things which are brought against him by those who seek excuse to kill him.

A year or two ago I was fortunate enough to make the acquaint- ance of a buzzard family in some beautiful woods near the place where I happened to be stationed. I found them first when just able to flutter from tree to tree around their nest, and it was more than interesting to watch their development and the assiduity of the parents in feeding and schooling the young savages. No harm befell them. Their growth was wonder- fully quick, and they had not quitted the nest a week before the big wings had acquired full power. It was truly beautiful to watch them then, for there is nothing to equal the flawless elegance of this bird's flight—that is, when sailing in its pecu- liarly slow and stately way over its own wide range. When harried or alarmed its gait is more laboured, the big wings beat heavily, and there is a suggestion of effort in every stroke. I noticed that they preferred to soar to an immense height whence they could look down upon earth and clouds alike. There they loved to float, calm and sublime, and by the hour one could watch them circling in the vast blue dome, now rising, sinking, and soaring again, effortless, ever still-winged and ever graceful.

In his methods of hunting the buzzard is said to ho less attractive than other birds of prey. With this I scarcely agree. Certainly he lacks the fiery energy of the falcons and the ferocious courage of the sparrowhawk. It is true that he skulks about the hedgerows and drops upon such insignificant game as young rabbits, grass-snakes, and even frogs. Yet ho is also capable of marvellous activity, and a swoop which puts even the merlin to shame for its certainty and lightning swiftness. Unquestionable witnesses have seen him strike down pheasants in full flight, and only those who know at what pace a rocketing pheasant skims through air can appreciate such a feat. He is said to hunt much at dusk, but it is probable that on such occasions the uncertain light has caused him to be confused with the great tawny owl, for that silent-winged marauder is most busy then, while the buzzard is a fairly early rooster, and seeks his perch when the pigeons arc coming in and long before the pheasant has crowd good-night.

There can be no doubt that the big hawk mates for life. The same spot is visited annually, and as far as can be observed each pair ranges a distinct and separate area. All one winter I studied two birds who for some years had nested in a big oak wood where each night they came in to roost. They did not appear to hunt together. Indeed they often came in from opposite directions, but neither would go to its perch or much as settle upon a tree until the other arrived. The first to come was usually the cock bird, and he would circle the wood wailing anxiously and incessantly until he heard or sighted his mate afar, whereupon he would shoot away like an arrow to meet her. They would meet with `glad cries and every sign of mutual welcome, and at once repair to their common roosting- place. Besides being constant mates, they arc the best of parents. Tales of ferocity in defence of their eyries are many, and the following absolutely true incident gives proof of the birds' devotion to their young.

Some years ago a West Country gentleman when walking in some woods near Buckfastleigh found a young buzzard hiding among some bushes. It could not fly, and, thinking that it was injured in some way, he caught it, and late that night took it by train—a distance of some fifteen miles—to his own home, a beautiful place in the neighbourhood of Exeter. Early next morning he tried to feed the young bird, but without success. So wishing to give it every chance, he let it out in the garden, and then went off to inspect some work which was going on in the adjoining park. An hour later he was returning to the house. The very air seemed to palpitate with bird life, which was natural, the place being something of a sanctuary for all feathered things. Small birds twittered, rooks cawed, turtledoves crooned, and a woodpecker beat a tattoo which made the whole park ring. All these were familiar sounds and aroused no interest, until through all his ears caught a far-away cry which in some way recalled the woods of Buckfestleigh and the home of the buzzards. He stopped at once and listened, but could only distinguish the crying of gulls along the river- bank. He remembered the stranger bird he had brought in the night before and entered the shrubbery in search of it. The young hawk sat on a stump in a limp, dazed sort of posture, but made an effort to fly off as its captor approached. Being loth to frighten it, he went away, and soon forgot it amid other interests. But late that afternoon he was startled by a sound seldom heard on the outskirts of a great city. The unmistakable crying of buzzards filled the air, and he hurried out to see two of the huge wild birds sailing in rapid circles over the shrubbery. They were screaming in boundless excitement, and the youngster, still perched on his stump, added a shrill contribution to the clamour. Down they came, descending by a giddy spiral, and next minute all three were on the stump, fussing, chattering, and flapping big wings, no doubt in their own way telling each other all about it.

By what marvellous means had the parents discovered whither the lost one had gone ? Had they ranged the whole countryside in random search, or had they by means of their marvellous vision detected it from a distance and vast height ? The eyes of a hawk are proverbial, but if a hawk's eye is capable of such perception and discrimination perhaps it is as well for society that the gift is rare. The next two days witnessed the frequent readvent of the buzzards. They fed the little one, and came again and again endeavouring to lure him away. Whatever the injury from which he was suffering, he quickly recovered, and on the third morning was nowhere to be found. The parents were never seen again, so it was safe to surmise that he had found his wings and flown with them to his native woods.

DOUGLAS GORDON.