THE KESTREL 73 



On one occasion I had a family of young Kestrels under 

 observation for several weeks. On June 18th the young 

 brood were five in number. They were still down-clad, 

 and only the rudiments of a few of their feathers were 

 appearing. On June 29th, when next I visited them, they 

 had matured in quite a noteworthy manner. This time 

 the nest contained only three birds — the remaining two 

 may possibly have succumbed through lack of food — and 

 they were almost ready for flight. It was impossible 

 to obtain satisfactory photographs of them on their nest- 

 ing ledge, and so, not without difficulty, I succeeded in 

 carrying them up to the top of the rock. The nesting 

 ledge was near the summit of the cliff, and by leaning 

 out on an overhanging birch tree it was possible just to 

 touch the young. As they struck out fiercely with their 

 talons, it was not easy to lift them from the nest, but I 

 succeeded in accomplishing this by enveloping them in the 

 focussing cloth of my camera. The chicks shrieked loudly 

 and repeatedly during this process, and the parent bird, 

 perched in a neighbouring birch, joined in their cries. I 

 placed the trio on a ledge of rock, and they remained 

 obligingly quiet during the time that I secured a number 

 of photographs of them. One of the young birds — a hen, 

 I think — showed less spirit than the other two, and re- 

 mained during most of the time with her head hidden 

 beneath the wing of one of her companions, who glared 

 fiercely at the hated camera and the still more hated 

 operator ! At no time did I see the remains of any prey 

 in the nest. 



It is surprising what uncertainty exists amongst 

 the Highlanders as to the identity of the Kestrel. 

 I have heard it referred to by intelligent stalkers as the 

 Peregrine Falcon, and on one occasion I was asked to 

 call and see what was supposed to be a young Golden 

 Eagle — in reality a youthful and depressed Kestrel 



