CHAPTER XIII 



THE GLEN OF THE HERONS 



At the head of a sea loch, penetrating deep into the hills 

 of the Island of Mull, is a narrow glen. Rising steeply 

 from the loch the glen lies full to the south, so that it is 

 in strong sunlight throughout the day, and on its heathery 

 slopes grouse sun themselves and hill adders bask in the 

 heat. 



Running through the glen is a burn of clearest water, 

 forming, as it hurries to the sea loch below, a chain of deep 

 pools in which the water, quiet and limpid, shows as almost 

 of a sea-green colour. In the months of spring many 

 primroses bloom here, and wagtails glance, in long un- 

 dulating flight, above the swiftly-flowing waters. From the 

 mossy land at the foot of the glen comes often the trilling 

 cry of the curlew, busy at her nesting, and amongst the 

 black rocks in its upper reaches the dark form of the raven 

 is sometimes seen as she enters and leaves her nest. Above 

 even this, and where the burn has its birth, is the haunt of 

 the hill ptarmigan and of the eagle. 



Perhaps a mile from the sea the burn hurries through 

 a narrow gorge, between steep rocks, and then falls sheer 

 into a deep sun-bathed pool. Growing at the burn's edge 

 a veteran oak here finds some little shelter from the winter's 

 gales, but for all that is stunted in form — is not, I should 

 say, twenty feet in height. But at the season of spring, to 

 this tree there come a colony of wild-voiced herons, and 

 the glen re-echoes with their cries. 



To anyone conversant with the nesting habits of the 

 heron in a country of woods this nesting site must appear 

 strange indeed, for it is customary for thfs unwieldy bird 



71 



