LETTERS OF AN ORNITHOLOGIST. 43 



There is very little difference between the plumage of the Rock Dove, 

 (Columba livia,) male^ female^ and young. When first off the nest, the young 

 Pigeon is of a darker shade of purple, with very little lustre; the adult 

 male, when in full pride of feather, is of a very pale, delicate tint of lavender, 

 and his neck glistens with the hue of the emerald and carbuncle. I suppose 

 that of all domestic animals none are so easily reclaimed as the Pigeon. 

 Though taken fully fledged from the nest, they immediately become reconciled 

 to the Dove-cot, and are as bold and familiar as the other Pigeons, which 

 have been born and bred for many generations back in slavery. How 

 different is the Wild Duck! Though the eggs, taken early from the heathery 

 nest by the loch side, are placed in the barn under the careful bosom of 

 an old chuckling Hen, yet the young brood, though thus ushered into the 

 world in the midst of civilization, from the moment of their extrusion from the 

 egg till their dying day always exhibit their hereditary distrust of man, and 

 retain much of their original wildness; always ready to use their wings in 

 preference to their legs; upon any insult ready to bid a long adieu, and 

 return to their paternal wildnesses; and it is not till the third or fourth 

 generation that they become fully civilized, domestic farm-yard waddlers. 



The Skua is a very rare bird about our shores, and I am very little acquainted 

 with it. The fishers seem to know it, however, under the Gaelic name of 

 Fasqadair. In an old edition of the '^Enclyclopaedia Britannica," it is mentioned 

 by the name of '^'^Parasiticus,'' as very common and breeding at Islay and 

 Jura; but it seems now to have deserted those shores. 



The Turnstone, (Strepsilas interpres,) is very numerous here : in winter large 

 flocks feed upon the shores at ebb-tide; and during .^the flood they assemble 

 upon the rocks. They are always to be found upon the little unfrequented 

 rocky islets, wandering about the sea-weed-covered rocks, almost within reach 

 of the wash of the surf. They seem to feed as much in this manner as 

 upon the gravelly beaches. During severe storms they sometimes come a little 

 way inland to the sandy fields. They are generally tame and stand well 

 together, and so give a good shot. Last year I met with flocks as late as 

 the 28th. of May: the birds had nearly acquired their summer plumage. On 

 the 7th. of June the flocks had entirely disappeared, but a few pairs remained 

 in different spots, and these were in most brilliant plumage — very unlike their 

 sombre winter garb; the body covered with a combination of red, black, and 

 white, giving the appearance of tortoise-shell, and the neck and breast curiously 

 marked with black and white. In fact they were in full breeding dress; and 

 I suppose these pairs must have remained here with the intention of nestling 

 in this country. 



The mode I generally adopt now to destroy life in birds, whether wounded 

 or not, is by tying a loop in a bit of twine, putting it over the bird's head, 

 suddenly pulling it tight by both ends, and in a few seconds life is extinct with 

 apparently little pain. It is almost the only effectual way of killing some of 

 the stronger sea-fowl, which are remarkably tenacious of life. It does not 



