CHAPTER XXIII 



THE TRIBE OF THE WILD SWANS 

 I. — THE BEWICK SVMN 



When October has departed, and Polar winds, sweeping 

 aci^oss Scotland from the north, tell of the approach of frost 

 and snow, the gentle and graceful Bewick swan arrives at 

 its winter quarters with us. 



A certain island there is, lying out into the Atlantic, 

 which every winter gives food and shelter to these tra- 

 vellers, and where no hand is lifted against them, so that 

 they have little fear of man, allowing him to approach 

 nearly, and being reluctant to take wing even when 

 disturbed. 



It was on a calm and clear day in November that I had 

 my first sight of the swans. For some days winds from 

 the north had prevailed, bringing snow squalls to the land, 

 and piling up the drifts on the mainland hills. But on 

 the island the snow did not lie, for the waters of the 

 Atlantic had not as yet given up their summer heat, and 

 the grass was still green. In the centre of the island a 

 narrow creek runs inland from the south'ard. It is only 

 at high spring tides that the salt water enters far — at other 

 times a slow-running burn, with motion scarce perceptible, 

 makes its way seawards. Up the creek were a number of 

 Bewick swans, both young and old, the parents and their 

 three or four youngsters in some cases still keeping to- 

 gether in small parties. In places the strips of water had 

 been frozen across, and a few of the swans were asleep 

 on the ice, allowing of a near approach before walking 

 painfully over the slippery surface to the nearest lane of 

 open water. At length thev considered that I had ap- 



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