eSAGels S5 ag WY EY RE 
105 
river to the opposite side. At times, when sailing across with their 
noiseless flight, they hooted close to our heads, and my companion, 
who was fishing a little further down the stream, came up to me in 
great distress ; he was all in a shake, and could not conceive what 
the dreadful noise was. It was with the utmost difficulty that I 
convinced him that it was caused by Owls. Poor fellow! he had 
never heard one in his life before. It is very interesting to see 
into an Owl’s nest. On a ledge of rock, in Barron Wood, I once 
peered into a recess, and there were the two old ones, blinking 
and looking very solemn and sedate, with some downy young ones, 
like little kittens; they made a great fuss, spitting and snoring; 
one made a noise like the drawing of a cork from a bottle. I left 
the family of Strix to their domestic happiness, and when I 
clambered down it was a good while before peace and quietness 
reigned over their household. 
Near to Dalemain I saw a pretty sight. It was a moonlight 
night, and in passing between some woods, a number of these 
birds issued forth, and flew over the park with their ghost-like 
flight. It was pretty to see them quartering the ground like a 
spaniel, at times making a full swoop, and return to the woods 
with their prey ; at intervals they would sally forth from the depths 
of the trees. I counted seven all at once, the greatest number of 
adults I ever saw together. 
What merry times have we had on Rockcliffe Marsh amongst 
the sea birds!. noting the buoyant flight of the Common Tern, or, as 
it is more frequently called, the Sea Swallow, and often have we seen 
their eggs in scores lying on the green sward and scattered over 
different parts of the ground; nests of the Redshank, the birds 
flying overhead uttering their plaintive, querulous notes ; the Pee- 
wit, too, accompanying them in their aerial circles; the Oyster 
catcher, with his shrill, rattling whistle, and frequently have we 
found their eggs ; and that beautiful little fellow, the Ringed Plover, 
as it ran along the shingle with its peculiar cry, not forgetting the 
pretty eggs and nest of the Dunlin. On a fine evening it was 
beautiful from the western point of the marsh to see the sun set, 
and as night’s sable curtain was drawn, and darkness closed in, to 
