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<!DOCTYPE html>
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<title>The peregrine</title>
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<h1 class="booktitle">The Peregrine</h1>
<h2>J. A. Baker</h2>
<div>
<p class="date">October 20th</p>
<p>The peregrine hovered above the river meadows, large and shining in dark coils of starlings, facing the strong south wind and the freshness of the morning sun. He circled higher, then stooped languidly down, revolving as he fell, his golden feet flashing through sunlight. He tumbled headlong, corkscrewing like a lapwing, scattering starlings. Five minutes later he lifted up in the air again, circling, gliding, diving up to brightness, like a fish cleaving up through warm <em class="blue">blue</em> water, far from the falling nets of the starlings.</p>
<p>A thousand feet high, he poised and drifted, looking down at the small green fields beneath him. His body shone tawny and golden with sunlight,speckled with brown like the scales of a trout. The undersides of his wings were silvery; the secondaries were shaded with a horseshoe pattern of blackish bars, curving inwards from the carpal joint to the axillaries. He rocked and drifted like a boat at anchor, then sailed slowly out onto the northern sky. He lengthened his circles into long ellipses, and swept up to smallness. A flock of lapwings rose below him, veering, swaying, breaking apart. He stooped between them, revolving down in tigerish spirals, light leaping from his twisting talons. It was a splendid stoop, but showy, and I do not think he killed.</p>
<p class="date2">December 8th</p>
<p>Golden leaves of sunlight drifted down through morning fog. Fields shone wet under blue sky. From an elm near the river the tiercel peregrine flew up into the misty sunlight, calling: a high, husky, muffled call: 'keerk, keerk, keerk, keerk, keerk', sharp-edged and barbarous.
</p>
<p>He rose over stubble to the north, keeping the sun behind him, beating forward, mounting in buoyant glides. He had the tenseness and taut ply in his wings that means he has sighted prey. Predators that kill what is the commonest have the best chance for survival. Those that develop a preference for one species only are more likely to go hungry and weak.</p>
<p>Woodpigeons in the stubble stopped feeding, and raised their heads. Two hundred feet above them the hawk slowly circled, then slanted suddenly over and down. He slashed down through the air and swung up, and the pigeons flew wildly beneath him. He twisted over and down, with a sinuous coiling of wings, and cut in among them, piercing their soft grey hurtling mass.</p>
<p>Birds rose from all the fields around. Whole fields seemed to lift into the sky. Somewhere in this seething of wings the hawk was lost inextricably. When the turmoil subsided, there was no hawk within miles. This happens so often: the stelathy soft-winged approach, the sudden attack, then the hidden departure, concealed in a diffusing smoke-screen of birds.</p>
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