CHAPTER XXVII 



THE LOCHAN OF THE WHITE-FRONTED GEESE 



In the wilds of western Ross-shire is a hill lochan where, with 

 the coming of each winter, certain white-fronted geese make 

 their home. The lochan indeed is no more to them than a 

 winter haunt ; at the approach of April they become filled with 

 a strange restlessness, and before that month is past they 

 have set out on their powerful wings for their far-off nesting- 

 grounds within the Arctic circle. 



This lochan lies on a rough moorland plateau, with deep 

 peat hags to catch the unwary stranger who may attempt 

 a straight course. Across the plateau there stand the relics 

 of ancient forests of Scots fir. Stumps broken off" close above 

 the ground and great roots, blackened by the peat, are all 

 that remain of these vast woods, where wolves once had 

 their home and where great stags roamed restlessly in bygone 

 days. But now the climate has changed, and no trees could 

 stand the fierce gales that sweep the plateau in the season 

 of winter. 



It was on an afternoon of mid-December that I first 

 saw the Lochan of the White-fronted Geese. In these 

 northern latitudes dusk falls quickly, and the light was 

 already waning as I made my way across the plateau. 

 Beneath me lay the waters of Loch Ewe, ruffled by the breeze, 

 while northward was that part of the ocean known as the 

 Minch, and beyond it again the hills of Harris and the 

 Lewes; their conical summits draped in snow. No sound 

 disturbed the silence of the plateau; no life was visible save 

 where, on the leeward side of a knoll, I disturbed a company 

 of golden plover — or "Feadagan," as they are known in the 

 Gaelic — in their sombre winter dress. As far as the eye 



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