64 WILD LIFE OF SCOTLAND 



their tails; and, with quickly pulsating wings, 

 hover over the spot. Sometimes they rise a little 

 in the air, as if to focus a blurred object, and then 

 descend like a bolt. They have not the power to 

 pursue their prey under the water, and trust solely 

 to the force, and impetus of the dive. Their arrowy 

 flight toward the moor tells when they are successful; 

 which happens perhaps once in half a dozen dives. 



The comparative certainty with which the terns 

 can reckon on the motions of the sand-eel, which 

 must be constantly shifting its position ; and, 

 though taking an appreciable time in the descent, 

 dash sufficiently near the spot to seize the creature 

 in its bill, is surprising. There may, of course, be 

 a shoal beneath, which would broaden the mark, 

 but that only lessens, and does not remove, the 

 wonder. 



The first unexpected impression, on glancing 

 along the coast, and out to sea, is that of lif elessness. 

 In imagination, we associate flashing wings with 

 summer waters, and look for white plumage 

 against the passing rain-cloud ; and I am mistaken 

 if some artists do not occasionally oblige us with that 

 phenomenon. But, as a matter of fact, this is the 

 most barren time of the year, and, but for those 

 diving terns, would be more barren still. 



