257 /-;n:r 



LETTERS OF AN ORNITHOLOGIST. ( fl^m 



( Continued from paffe 216. J X'^/V' ' 



LETTER IX. 



lona, November, 1852. 



My last ended rather abruptly, but yet I have very little more to add 

 regarding our lona quadrupeds; the only species that remain to be mentioned 

 are the Common Rabbit, (Lepus cuniculus,) Long-tailed Field Mouse, [Mus 

 sylvaticus,) the Otter, (Lutra vulgaris,) and the Seal, (Phoca vitulina.) As 

 for the two latter, they are so shy, and so rarely to be seen, that one can 

 scarcely make any observations upon their habits. 



I have never discovered the nest of the Purple Sandpiper, {Tringa mari- 

 tima;) but I have observed one or two pairs about the shores of Staflfa all 

 through the summer. Late in the month of June last, there was a pair 

 flitting about the inner extremity of the great cave; on being disturbed they 

 went off to the next cave, (the boat cave,) where they were shot by my 

 companion. 



I was very much amused by the account of your friend's adventure with 

 the Heron, a beginning which promises great success, for it is not easy to 

 circumvent old Long Shanks. There is a Gaelic saying — '^One who has killed 

 three Herons, three Geese, and three Curlews, may call himself a sportsman," 

 so your friend has at least made one step towards acquiring that honourable 

 designation.* I never have seen the Little Auk, so I supppse it is more a 

 frequenter of the east than of the west coast; for if it ever came near us here, 

 I could not have failed to have seen or heard of it. But the Heron is a 



* In all my field and sea-side rambles I do not remember having had a more fortunate afternoon 

 than fell to my lot on Saturday last. After shooting a Turnstone and a few smaller birds on 

 wing, I was much surprised on observing a stranger hurrying towards me, and I set down the 

 specimens, whose throats I had been plugging, seized my gun, and in another moment the 

 arrowy flight was stopped, and the little traveller fell at my feet. It was a Little Auk, {Mer- 

 gulus alle,) — the only specimen I have seen since 1846, when they were so abundant on our 

 shores. After carefully stuflSng his mouth, and wrapping him in a paper coffin, my attention 

 was taken by an approaching squall. Suddenly it became dark, and the big boulders frowned 

 as the tempestuous waves broke in succession on their backs. The tide was nearly full, and 

 the feathered tribes were consequently obliged to keep near the grass, which made their capture 

 all the more easy. A few Redshanks and Dunlins were coursing past, looking for shelter, and 

 various other kinds might be seen anxiously struggling forward against the wind. A large Heron 

 at length came in sight, beating his broad wings in apparent ill-humour at the storm. Down 

 he dropped (dose to the beach, composedly reducing his size as he best could to resist the 

 elements. His doom was however fixed. — I crawled forwards nearer and nearer, till he cawght 

 a glimpse of me as I approached. Up he started, spread his sails, and stretched his long stilts, 

 uttering at the same time a dreadful shriek, which mingled with the roar of the breakers ; and 

 just as he was fairly on wing, I brought him down. He fell into the foaming waves with a 

 broken wing; and without much hesitation I sprang in to secure him; but as I was on the 

 point of seizing him, the brute turned round arid showed fight gallantly. He flapped his huge 

 wings, and screamed like a pig in distress — attempting now and then to strike at me with his 

 bill; till at last the cold forced me to leave the water. The Heron was therefore left to come 

 out of his own accord, which he did slowly and cautiously when a lull occurred in the sea ; but 

 when a big wave approached, he threw back his head and barked angrily at it, as if deteraiined 

 VOL. III. 2 L 



