Autumn in the Western Highlands 



waters mingled with the roar of the wind as it struck the 

 rocks on the bare hill faces. On the highest tops a thin 

 coating of snow lay, and made one think of the ptarmigan 

 on the wind-swept plateau, already assuming their winter 

 plumage of white. 



Where a sea loch runs several miles inland a small 

 company of birds, seven or eight in number, were con- 

 spicuous. They were immature specimens of the red- 

 throated diver, probably from tiie sub-arctic latitudes, on 

 their w'ay south. As they moved and dived the white 

 plumage of their under parts showed up clearly against 

 the dark water. At the head of the loch I passed through 

 a sheltered wood of Scots firs. Here no wind penetrated, 

 and the bracken, long and luxuriant, was still untouched 

 by the frost, its green fronds a pleasing feature to the eye 

 on this grey November day. From here the road led 

 rapidly upwards, and the gale met one with full strength. 

 Birches fringed each small hill burn. Less than a week 

 previously they were resplendent in hues of orange and 

 russet, but the gale had stripped them of most of their leaves, 

 and even as I passed, these were caught up in swirling clouds 

 and hurried overhead. A few rowans mingled with the 

 birches, their leaves a subdued red or flaming crimson, 

 and there is no tree that shows more beautiful tints than 

 the rowan or mountain ash. Reaching an elevation of 

 over one thousand feet the road crossed a stretch of boggv 

 moorland, dev^oid of a single tree, but showing abundant signs 

 of an ancient forest in the jagged stumps protruding from the 

 peat. Here the gale was so powerful that progress against 

 it was difficult, and the only life to be seen w-as a covey of 

 grouse which rose suddenly and flew down wind at express 

 speed. 



With the coming of darkness the moon show-ed herself 

 at intervals from behind scurrying clouds, and the weather 

 cleared somewhat. Deer — stags and hinds — had come down 

 to the glen to feed and crossed the road before me, one stag 



207 



