The Land of the Hills and the Glens 



northerly direction, while on their return in spring they come 

 from the east. 



There was one sw'an, however, that was unable to make 

 the northward flight with his fellows that spring, and during 

 the early days of March he lingered on the island, the sole 

 representative of his race. He may have been suffering 

 from a gunshot wound, for although protected on this 

 island, the swans are often shot at on other islands to the 

 north and north-west. Outw^ardly he had no apparent 

 injury, and showed a remarkable degree of confidence. I 

 first spied him from the top of a little knoll, from where a 

 wide expanse of the island lies open to the view. He was 

 asleep at the edge of a pool of water thinly encrusted with 

 ice, and still slept, head buried deep in his snow-white 

 feathers, as I reached him. Some movement of mine 

 awakened him, but he show^ed little surprise or alarm, though 

 when first he saw me he called once in that deep musical 

 note so pleasant to the ear. He allowed himself even to 

 be stroked, and it was only after several minutes' scrutiny 

 that he decided to move, and walked sedately to another 

 pool. 



I have wondered what was the fate of this solitary and 

 lonely swan, whether he recovered sufficiently to follow 

 his tribe in their northw^ard migration to the frozen tundras 

 that approach the Pole, or whether he remained, an un- 

 willing prisoner in a land that held no further attractions 

 now that spring had come again. 



In imagination, I can see him rising up into the still 

 night air, and with deep honking cries rapidly winging 

 his way to the northern plains, for surely he has gone in the 

 spirit to that land of mystery which gave him birth, even 

 if in the flesh he lacked the strength to make the great 

 journey thither. 



128 



