116 THE PEREGRINE FALCON. 



peregrine in my collection, and guessed it was one. " I shot it 

 on the sands on the north side of Eden five or six days ago, and 

 took it home to Reres, where it lies in the yard. It is of no 

 earthly use to me ; you can have it if you want it," he said. I 

 sent a messenger by rail at once to Guardbridge, before Mr 

 Berwick got home. On calling at the farm and telling his 

 errand — " What ! " said " Old Schoonie Hill " — as Mr Berwick's 

 father was called — " have you come all the way frae St Andrews 

 for that ugly brute o' a hawk 1 " After being hospitably treated 

 — like the players in Hamlet — the lad returned with the " ugly 

 brute o' a hawk " — a fine female peregrine in its second year's 

 plumage (in excellent order, for the frost had preserved it.) 

 The only injury was the point of its bill shot away and a pellet 

 through its brain. I stuffed it, and have it still. The lesson 

 from this is that many rare birds are lost through carelessness, 

 not knowing their worth, and cast away merely because not 

 eatable. An occasional rare bird is not heavy to carry, and will 

 amply repay the carrier. 



Another fine specimen was shot at Eden in 1863, with a snipe 

 in its talons ; and other three seen also at Eden about the same 

 time, so they are not so very rare about St Andrews — the Eden 

 being within two miles. In 1864 I got a fine old male, shot at 

 Cambo, near the sea, which I also stuffed, and still have. 



An intelligent naturalist here told me that when living at 

 Montrose — returning one night from otter hunting — he saw a 

 dark object projecting on a high rock, known as the " Elephant." 

 He fired, and brought down a fine peregrine, only winged. He 

 clutched it, but it sent its claws into his hand. His companion 

 threw his napkin over its head to keep it from using its beak, 

 then one by one took its claws out from their painful grasp. 

 He then turned in the toes and claws like a ball, and held it by 

 the feet quite harmless. Sometimes the peregrine strikes with 

 such force that if it misses its clutch it can scarcely relax its 

 •own talons. He told me there was a nest every year on the 

 Red Head. He went one day with a companion to get some of 

 the young ones. The nest could not be seen from below, but 

 by standing on a projecting ledge on the top of the cliff they 

 saw the young ones far down on the ledge overhung by the 

 cliff; they seemed like sparrows in the distance. They kept 

 firing at them for a couple of hours — not to kill, but to frighten 

 them — for their shot could not reach half-way down. At last 

 ■one of them got frightened, and fell over to the foot of the 

 rock, which he got and kept a year. He said the fishermen 



