CHAPTER XXIII THE FINDHORN 



herd'sboyatCoignafern.with hishazel-wand and line made 

 by himself, but here you have a well-equipped and well- 

 accoutred follower ofthe gentle craft in waterproof overalls, 

 and armed with London rod and Dublin fly, tempting the 

 salmonfrom their elementwithabright but indefinablemix- 

 tureof feathers, pigs'-wool,andgold thread; while his attend- 

 ant, stretched at his ease, wonders at the labour his master 

 undertakes,and watches quietly the salmon as he rises from 

 some dark abyss ofthe water, poises himself for a moment 

 steadily opposite the glittering hook, makes a dash rapid 

 as thought at it, and then swims slowly back to his ambus 

 cade in the depth of the water, not aware, till he feels the 

 jerk ofthe line, that he is carrying with him, not a painted 

 dragon-fly, but a carefully prepared and strong weapon of 

 death, which he will only get quit of with his life. The nets 

 are at work too, sweeping a deep and quiet pool, but seldom 

 with much success, owing to the inequalities ofthe bottom 

 ofthe river. Making a wide turn here, the river passes by 

 an object of great interest, the Findhorn heronry, a collect- 

 ionof thesebirds quiteunique in their way.Theyhave taken 

 possession of a number of old trees growing on the Darna- 

 way side ofthe river, and here, year after year, they repair 

 their oldnests andbringuptheiryoung.not frightened away 

 by thefrequentersofawalkwhich passes immediately under 

 their nests. Numbers of the old birds may be seen sitting 

 motionless on the dead branches, or perched on the very 

 topmost twig of a larch or birch-tree.* 



Sometimes the peregrine, on his way to Sluie, passes 

 quickly through the midst ofthe community, while a con- 



* Elsewhere St John notes that herons sometimes build on rocks. — Ed. 



