102 BRITISH BIRDS. 
Carrion-Crows and Hoodies, cunning fellows that they are, just kept at a 
respectful distance, and that was all. But we were not bent on such lowly 
game; our quarry was of nobler stamp, and I scarcely heeded them at all. 
I remember a Skylark trilled out its morning anthem; and the shrill 
screams of the Herring-Gulls and the Kittiwakes, and the harsh ery of the 
Oystercatcher, were repeatedly heard. On the hillsides one could hear the 
faint bleating of the lambs, whose enemies’ castle we were about to storm. 
We reached the cliffs at last ; a right glorious Eagles’ home it was too. But 
so soon as we got to the brink of that terrible cliff, a loud barking cry 
rang shrilly out on the morning air, a yelping cry of defiance echoing 
amongst the rocks; and the Golden Eagle sailed proudly from his castle, 
carried so stately forward by his magnificent stretch of wing. A right 
royal bird he was; and all thoughts of his evil deeds were for the time for- 
gotten. It was the Eagle—the king of the feathered race, the bird so 
famous in all times ; and I was lost in admiration. As he sailed so grandly 
on, his rich dark plumage came out in bold relief against the blue waters 
far below, the morning sun causing his head and neck to shine like 
burnished gold. I paused to admire this feathered robber, this proud and 
unconquered bird of the mountains and the heaths. He speedily flew out 
to sea, ascending the air as he went; and when about three or four 
hundred yards from the cliff, I had an opportunity of observing his easy 
flight to perfection. Slowly sailing round in ever widening circles—now 
on motionless wing, now with rapid beats—he surveyed our unwelcome 
intrusion. Silent as death, now he swooped along, now elevating his long 
wings, hovering like some huge Kestrel; or, taking a long downward swoop, 
he passed directly opposite the cliff, the white patches on his wings 
coming out in strong contrast with his rich dark plumage. He did not 
long remain in our company, but went far out to sea; and I finally lost 
sight of him as he doubled a point some half-mile away, leaving us to 
storm his rocky citadel if we could or dared. As I said before, it was just 
the place one could imagine a Golden Eagle’s eyrie to be in—the grandest 
piece of cliff on the coast, and the best for a look-out too. The cliffs were 
something terrible in their wild and rugged grandeur. They here rose fully 
600 feet above the sea at least, partly in a sloping grassy cliff, broken here 
and there by precipices, and partly in a beetling rock. Far down below, the 
waters of the Minch dashed against its base, rolling through the caves with 
a sound like thunder—fitting artillery, I thought, for such ascene, a truly 
regal salute indeed to the noble bird’s abode. Far down on the sea 
below, the ‘ Scoots’ and the Gulls, looking not much bigger than Sparrows, 
were playing on the waves, or sitting on the rocks quiet and motionless. 
The grassy parts of the cliffs were studded with the fairest primroses and 
sea-pinks ; and in all the rock-crevices the delicate spleenwort fern grew in 
lovely luxuriance. The nest of the Eagle was in a little grass-covered 
