66 



THE GOLDEN EAGLE. 



noble native of Scotland has been all but exterminated by the 

 wholesale sheep farms and extensive deer forests of modern 

 cockneydom. It is now very uncommon to hear of a golden 

 eagle south of the Border, or even in the Lowlands of Scotland. 

 As already said, during a period of fifty years I know of only 

 three having been seen in Fifeshire. Some years ago about 

 twenty annually found their way to the bird-stuffers in Scotland 

 for glass-eyed ornaments. There are not so many now. And 

 it is questionable if the destruction of the birds of prey has 

 added to the number and quality of the birds of sport. It 

 seems to be the rule, the fewer the birds of prey the more 

 inferior the birds of sport, as their mission seems to be, by the 

 law of unerring Nature, to act as the wise balance in thinning 

 down the weaker birds, which are less able to escape, thus 

 leaving the propagation of species to the stronger and more 

 robust, for it has been noted of late years that, owing to the 

 excessive destruction of the birds of prey, a marked deteriora- 

 tion of the breed of grouse was so visible as almost to demand 

 the restoration of the natural balancers of life. 



The western boundary of Foula, one of the Shetland Islands, 

 is a favourite resort of the golden eagle. In Norway they 

 enjoy uninterrupted sway, and can choose their nesting-places 

 undisturbed amongst the magnificent rocks which bound its 

 fjords. They can often be seen perched upon the centre of some 

 lonely island, where they remain motionless for hours. Its 

 motion at first is slow, heavy, like a heron's, till, rising high in 

 air, it assumes its own majestic flight. Although it has been 

 so seldom seen in Fife, I could not resist the temptation of 

 describing thus fully the recognised king, or rather queen, of 

 the feathered race once so plentiful in ancient Caledonia, 

 reminding me of the words of Major Galbraith, who was sent 

 to hunt down Rob Roy : — 



" For while Rob Roy was free to rove 

 In summer's heat and winter's snow ; 

 The eagle, he was lord above, 



And bold Rob Roy was lord below." 



Let us, in imagination, start with him, pen in hand, like the 

 wren, upon his back, from his (or her) eyrie, on a marauding 

 excursion, for food for the young, high up on some lofty crag. 

 Before setting out there, see him, with head stretched forward 

 leaning to the sky, his fierce and callous eye piercing distance 

 for miles, as it is said to pierce the sun ; the tip of his tail 

 pressed hard against the rock on which he stands ; his muscular 



