The Land of the Hills and the Glens 



my friend the keeper and exposed several plates on my 

 "sitter." On settling down, she invariably shuffled her ^gg 

 well underneath her, with the characteristic motion used, I 

 think, by all birds when sitting. Sometimes she appeared to 

 be bored and would yawn, then close her eyes and indulge in 

 a short nap. Her mate usually circled overhead, and even 

 above the wind I could clearly hear his shrill, powerful cry. 

 Once she answered him, and I was fortunately able to "snap " 

 her with her mouth wide open as she called. 



The same afternoon I returned to the spot without the 

 keeper, and crept into the hide, but although I waited in 

 my hiding-place a long time the skua never summoned up 

 sufficient courage to return to her nest, remaining, together 

 with her mate, standing some fifty yards away. This, I 

 think, proved what has often been asserted, namely that the 

 majority of birds cannot, or at all events, do not, count more 

 than one. That is, if two people walk up to the hide, and 

 if, after a few minutes one of them moves away it never seems 

 to occur to the birds that the other conspirator is inside, 

 whereas if only one man appears at the nesting site and he 

 enters the hide and does not leave it, the birds realize that 

 he must be inside, so do not return, however long or quietly 

 he may wait. 



It is well on to mid July before the first of the young- 

 skuas are hatched. Clad in dark down, they run actively 

 almost from the start and do not long remain in the nest. 

 At this time their parents range far and wide to provide 

 them with food, and I have often watched them winging 

 their way home across the sea of an evening, and have 

 marvelled at the beauty and strength of their flight, and how 

 they make light of a breeze of a force sufficient to worry 

 even the most powerful of the gulls. 



The skua is, indeed, the pirate of the seas, and a strong 

 and dashing pirate he is too. For the most part he makes 

 his living by robbing sea birds of their rightful prey. Indeed, 

 one of his Gaelic names is Fascadeir, or "Squeezer." Those 



30 



