250 HILL BIRDS OF SCOTLAND 



seconds a great cloud was formed on its sheltered face. 

 Increasing quickly in size, the cloud canopy blotted out 

 the hill, until, on reaching the summit, it felt the full 

 force of the gale and was hurried for miles to leeward, 

 appearing as an immense column of smoke rolling north- 

 ward down the glen. 



On more than one occasion I have made my way to 

 the remote glen of the Snow Birds during the hours of 

 twilight — there is no night on the Scottish hills at mid- 

 summer — and have listened for the first song of the 

 Bunting with the strengthening of the dawn. 



Once the sky was covered with heavy thundery clouds 

 during this midnight walk, and the moon shone fitfully 

 and without power. Not a breath of wind moved in the 

 glen. From time to time Tarmachan that I disturbed 

 threw out their croaking calls of alarm into the night, 

 or shadowy forms of stags moved past. An hour and five 

 minutes after midnight the Snow Bunting commenced 

 his song. He was on his favourite field of granite scree, 

 at a height of close on 4000 feet above sea-level, and he 

 sang with power and almost incessantly till seven o'clock. 

 The weather up to this time has been brilliantly fine. 

 Above the glen the sky was deejD clear blue, and only near 

 the lochan lying nearly 1000 feet beneath us was a cloud 

 lingering. Many times did the westerly breeze cross the 

 lochan, and, gently lifting the cloud, attempt to bear it 

 down the glen, but it persistently remained ; and then, as 

 the morning grew older, the wind shifted to the east, and 

 gradually a white bank of billowy mist slipped quietly 

 up the big glen, blotting out all the land beneath us. For 

 some time yet the hill remained clear in the sunlight, 

 then with the advance of the cloud there ensued a struggle 

 between the strong rays of the sun and the mist-pall, 

 before the latter ultimately shrouded even the highest 

 tops and the sun was finally obscured. 



