Answer:
I break away from my pack. I create holes in my victims. I can travel for miles and then disappear. I am part of a dying breed. What am I?
I am a pretty one, fluttering in the pale blue sky. Delicate, fragile on the wing, indeed I am a pretty thing. What am I?
The more you have me the less you see. Shine a light on me and I shall flee.
Never resting, never still. Moving silently from hill to hill. It does not walk, run or trot. All is cool where it is not. What is it?
I have a hundred legs, but cannot stand. I have a long neck, but no head. I cannot see, and I'm neat and tidy, as can be. What am I?
The profession of Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton