CHAP. xii. THE PICKIETARS. 237 



" Being on the sands of Boyndie one afternoon at 

 the end of August, I observed several parties of 

 Pickietars busily employed in fishing in the firth. 

 As I was in want of a specimen of this bird, I loitered 

 about on the beach, narrowly watching their motions, 

 and hoping that some of them would come within 

 range of my gun. The scene around was of no com- 

 mon beauty. In the azure heaven, not a cloud was 

 to be seen as far as the eye could reach ; not a breath 

 of wind was stirring the placid bosom of the firth. 

 The atmosphere seemed a sea, as it were, of living 

 things ; so numerous were the insects that hummed 

 and fluttered to and fro in all directions. The sun, 

 approaching the verge of the horizon, shot long and 

 glimmering bands of green and gold across the broad 

 mirror of the deep. Here and there several vessels 

 were lying becalmed, their whitened sails showing 

 brightly in the goldened light. An additional interest 

 was imparted by the herring-boats which were con- 

 gregating in the bay ; their loose and flagging sails, 

 the noise of the oars, and the efforts of the rowers, 

 told plainly enough that a hard pull would have to 

 be undergone, before they could reach their particu- 

 lar quarters for fishing, in the north-eastern part of 

 the firth. 



"While I stood surveying with delight the ex- 

 tended and glorious prospect, and witnessing with 

 admiration the indefatigable evolutions of the Terns in 

 their search for food, I observed one of them break 



