230 HILL BIRDS OF SCOTLAND 



sun shining full on their snow-flecked corries, gradually 

 became obscured by dark rain clouds. Over Ben Alder, 

 to the west, a second storm gathered, and southwards, over 

 Atholl, a cloud black as night wrapped hill and glen. 

 Overhead, in the small opening of blue sky being rapidly 

 encroached upon by these three storms, the sun still shone 

 brilliantly. And now, toward the south-west there shot 

 across the inky clouds brilliant flashes of lightning, and 

 the dull roll of the thunder was borne across to me. 

 Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the storm from Atholl 

 approached. The Dotterel, growing bolder than on my 

 previous visits, slipped on to his nest just as the first 

 drops of rain touched the dry vegetation of the plateau. 

 A few moments more, and a deluge of water descended 

 on the hill, quickly drenching me to the skin. Such 

 was the force of the raindrops that they rebounded from 

 the ground, and every dry and disused water-course was 

 filled. But as I made my way down to the glen beneath 

 I realised hoAV clearly defined were the limits of this tropical 

 downpour, for a mile to the northward the ground was 

 scarcely damp, though here, too, with the lengthening of 

 the evening, there descended another storm. Before night 

 it, too, had disappeared, and the sky held many fleecy 

 clouds which were turned to rose by the light of the setting 

 sun. 



On the morrow I again visited the Dotterel. Again 

 the sun shone, and now I became aware of the great 

 change there had been wrought among the hill faces 

 during the past few days ; for everywhere one saw fresh 

 green grass, and on some hillsides many plants of broom 

 — eaten to the ground almost by the stags — added a 

 golden note. The Dotterel left his nest as I appeared, 

 and again there ensued a long wait for him to return. 

 It was, I think, on this occasion that he first broke his 

 silence, uttering that charmingly soft whistle of his as 



