164 FIELD NOTES FOR THE YEAR. 



all, the eagle is but a sorry representative of royalty and 

 kingly grandeur : for although his flight is noble and magni- 

 ficent, and his strength and power astonishing, there is a 

 cruelty and treachery about the disposition of the bird which 

 render it unfit to be educated and trained like the peregrine 

 and other falcons ; nor does it ever become attached to its 

 keeper. 



On the 28th of September the last house-swallow took his 

 departure from this neighbourhood, although the season was 

 so fine that there were several nests of young greenfinches 

 about the garden even so late as the 30th of the month, and 

 a wood-pigeon was sitting on its eggs in an ash tree close to 

 the house. 



During the latter weeks of the fishing season (which legally 

 ends on the 15th of September in all the northern rivers), 

 the lower pools of the Findhorn are full of an excellent small 

 sea-trout, locally called the finnock. My opinion is that the 

 " finnock " is the grilse, or young of the common sea- trout, 

 bearing exactly the same relation and affinity to that fish as 

 the grilse does to the salmon ; but the natural history of the 

 inhabitants of another element is too uncertain and difficult 

 a subject for a mere casual observer to enter upon. At any 

 rate, the finnock is not only an excellent fish for the table, 

 but affords capital sport, rising freely, and playing boldly 

 when hooked ; and has altogether strong attractions for those 

 anglers who somewhat love their ease. 1 have been much 

 amused by seeing an elderly, placid-looking London gentleman, 

 who was staying at Forres for the purpose of fishing in the 

 Findhorn. This old gentleman used to arrive at the river's 

 edge at a comfortable noonday hour, accompanied by his lady, 

 and a footman splendid in blue and red, who carried camp- 

 stools, books, fishing-tackle, and last, though not least, a most 

 voluminous luncheon. Daily did this party make their 

 appearance at a certain pool, and while the old gentleman, 

 seated at his ease on his camp-stool close to the water, with 

 spectacles and broad-brimmed hat, fished away with the 

 well-known perseverance and skill of a Thames angler, his 

 lady read her book on one side, whilst on the other the 

 red-legged fooiman either prepared the luncheon, or held in 

 readiness the well-stocked fly-book of his master. Very 

 different would be the description given of our Scotch fishing 

 by one who thus practised the gentle craft of angling on the 

 level grassy banks of the lower pools of the Findhorn, to that 



