They had the fisherman's gift. The second, and
even the third attempt might fail, but no matter; it was simply a
question of time and patience. If the fish was caught, their first
concern seemed to be to shift their hold upon it, till its head pointed
to the front. That done, they shook themselves vigorously and started
landward, the shining white victim wriggling vainly in the clutch of the
talons. I took it for granted that they retired with their quarry to
some secluded spot on the peninsula, till one day I happened to be
standing upon a sand-hill as one passed overhead. Then I perceived that
he kept on straight across the peninsula and the river. More than once,
however, I saw one of them in no haste to go inland. On my second visit,
a hawk came circling about my head, carrying a fish. I was surprised at
the action, but gave it no second thought, nor once imagined that he was
making me his protector, till suddenly a large bird dropped rather
awkwardly upon the sand, not far before me. He stood for an instant on
his long, ungainly legs, and then, showing a white head and a white
tail, rose with a fish in his talons, and swept away landward out of
sight. Here was the osprey's parasite, the bald eagle, for which I had
been on the watch. Meantime, the hawk too had disappeared. Whether it
was his fish which the eagle had picked up (having missed it in the air)
I cannot say.
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