The Land of the Hills and the Glens 



less wings many of these birds, always flying singly in 

 their hunting, patrol the sound, their cold, expressionless 

 eyes ever searching the clear, green-tinted water for their 

 prey, the silvery herring or the swift-swimming mackerel. 

 They hunt in silence always, do these solans, and it is only 

 when two birds, most intent on their fishing, all but collide 

 in mid-air that their harsh, grating cry is heard. But at 

 their nesting rock — on Ailsa Craig, maybe, or on lone Saint 

 Kilda — the silent solan is quiet no longer, and during every 

 hour of the day and night a multitude of cries arise from 

 thousands of birds. Harsh and grating as tn^ir voices are, 

 the solans have in them a certain charm, for one always 

 associates them with days of summer and with the full tide 

 of pulsating life. 



The Sound of lona is famous for its flounders. They are, 

 so it is said, of unsurpassed flavour, and of a morning the 

 menfolk from the little township of Kentra may be seen 

 putting to sea and setting their long lines along the sandy 

 bottom of the sound. I doubt if the solans take the flounders 

 in their fishing; they would, I suspect, be a difficult mouth- 

 ful to dispose of, for it must be remembered that the solan 

 swallows his fish whole, and always bolls his catch before 

 rising to the surface. 



The fields of lona are manured in springtime by the 

 fronds of the laminarian seaweed, which, if the wind be 

 favourable, are washed ashore on the western side of the 

 island in great quantities during May. In former days it was 

 customary, should the "barr dearg " — as the weed is known 

 in the Gaelic — not come ashore at the usual season, and the 

 crops were likely to be spoilt for want of the proper nourish- 

 ment, to prepare on a certain Thursday in May a great 

 cauldron of porridge, which was cast into the sea on the 

 western side of the island as an offering to the Sea Spirit. 

 The day of this ceremony was known in the Gaelic as 

 "Diardaoin a' bhrochain mhoir," or "the Thursday of the big 

 porridge." 



48 



