CHAPTER III 



WITH THE RAVENS IN WALES 



THE night of Wednesday, March 12, 1902, finds Mr. 

 Pike, the well-known bird photographer, and myself 

 en route for the Principality, determined, if possible, 

 to picture the dusky Raven in its haunt. 



After a somewhat tedious journey (for we are 

 turned out several times, awaiting the convenience of 

 sundry trains), we reach our destination, where a pair 

 of strong cobs in a waggonette await us, to convey us 

 to the hill country. 



March in the mountains, except to a bird-lover, 

 does not appear all couleur de rose ; though the 

 scenery is impressive enough to wake the poet's 

 mood or charm the artist's eye, and to the naturalist 

 many signs of returning spring are visible. As yet, 

 except the Wheatear, none of the summer migrants 

 are present, but the delicate-looking Grey Wagtails 

 have returned to their beloved hill-streams and the 

 Curlews to the moorland above. A few Golden Plover 

 have done the same, though the bulk of them will not 

 return till April sets in. Up here in these wild hills 

 the busy Rooks have but begun to build their sub- 



