A424 The Bearded Vulture 
out in a most objectionable manner. It was an awkward moment, 
as I was in mid-air and with only just enough touch of the cliff 
to stop myself from revolving. I quickly gave two blasts on my 
whistle ; ‘“‘ Lower away” but got no response. Then I tried three 
blasts, ‘‘ Haul-up” with as little effect. It was quite clear that 
something was wrong ! 
Only those who have gone through similar troublous times 
can appreciate what this means to a man who has got to look 
out for himself. The nearest approach I know to the feelings I 
then experienced is when things go amiss in a balloon and_ the 
question arises, what is to be done next ? 
It did not take long for me to realize that ¢he rope above me had 
jambed. | looked down and the prospect was not cheering for I was 
hanging plumb over a peculiarly hard-looking mass of rock, some 
70 ft. to 75 ft. below. I looked up to see if I could, as in former 
days, swarm up the rope to the top of the cliff and then remem- 
bered that my disabled left shoulder and other injuries effectually 
barred such a feat of gymnastics. So I waited and began to think 
it out. Suddenly, I felt a sharp jerk and I shot down for a few 
feet, swinging about helplessly. Whistle in mouth I sounded shrilly 
“Lower away” and away I went! Less than 15 ft. more lower 
down I suddenly found myself opposite the Bearded Vulture's 
cavern and clutching at the rocks drew myself in and felt my feet 
strike a soft substance. Next moment I was clinging to the nest. 
I looked in. /¢ was enipty / 
What my feelings were, it is perfectly impossible for me to 
describe, as with difficulty I dragged myself in and took stock of 
my position. I was in a low cave about 5 ft. long, 2 ft. to 3 ft. 
high and 4 ft. in depth. The nest was a huge affair, built of big 
boughs, filling up the whole cavern, with a cup-shaped depression 
24 in. across, lined with great lumps of black sheepswool, brown 
goatshair and fresh green mosses. Evidently the bird had not 
