CHAPTER XXIV 



THE PTARMIGAN OF THE WAVES 



A STILL sea loch, with encircHng hills, and a burn with waters 

 of crystal clearness hurrying from the upper glens. 



At its mouth the burn widens, and enters the salt waters 

 by many channels intersected by shingly stretches. It is 

 here that, with the first coming of spring, while the birches 

 on the hillsides are still leafless, and when the song of the 

 missel thrush is the only bird music to be heard, there arrive 

 at least tw^o pairs of ringed plover. 



I have always thought that emanating from this un- 

 obtrusive wader was some quality of unusual charm, so that 

 its Gaelic name, "Tarmachan na Teinne," or "the Ptarmigan 

 of the Waves," seems to be a term of singular beauty, and 

 well adapted too. "The ptarmigan of the waves " have, 

 maybe, already paired before arriving at the nesting haunt; 

 and it is pleasant to watch them, during sunny days of March, 

 when the breath of spring is stirring amongst Nature's 

 children. The lady on these occasions stands demurely by 

 while the cock bird rises excitedly from the sun-warmed 

 shingle and with curious, erratic flight — a flight that is 

 almost bat-like — twists and tumbles, calling the while with 

 soft and plaintive note. All the time, his wings move with 

 scarce half their usual speed, and this characteristic of the 

 love song of the waders — though I have not seen it set down 

 in any book — is well marked also in the oyster catcher and 

 the golden plover, to mention only two at random.. 



His love-flight ended, the bird, perhaps, goes through a 

 display for the benefit of his mate, spreading out his tail 

 fanwise, and otherwise making himself as attractive as 

 possible for his lady wife to look upon. 



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