3-043-852 - The Print Collector/Heritage Images

The months: June, 1871. 'We can watch the kestrel as he sails away towards the edge of the cliff, when he sinks gently down till he reaches a crevice into which he darts as quick as thought. It is his home, where his mate and her brood are waiting for his return; the hen bird proclaims her love in quick, sharp notes, while the fluffy little ones cry out in harsh squeaks in their eagerness for the expected morsel. It is wonderful what a number of small birds and mice they are both ready and willing to digest at one meal; the old kestrel has already brought a sparrow, two linnets, and four mice to the banquet, and the feathers and fur strewn around their nest proves what short work they have made of them...The young nestlings promise fair, if one may judge from their little fierce, eyes, to be in no wise inferior to their forefathers in their depredatory exploits. They are bred in a wild home, and will lead a wild life. Their death, too, is often in accordance with their life. Perhaps, while struggling to their nest, they will be dashed against the rocks by some ungovernable whirlwind, and will perish on the rocks at the bottom of the very cliff from whose fastnesses they first saw the light of day'. From "Illustrated London News", 1871.