The Land of the Hills and the Glens 



ground, sails into the still air with harsh screams. Mount- 

 ing rapidly, he soon reaches the grey mist clouds that lie 

 a little above the hill-top, and his outline becomes faint 

 as he penetrates the vapours. Then swooping earthward 

 at terrific speed, and with wings tightly closed, he seems 

 as though he must plunge into the quiet waters of the 

 ocean many hundreds of feet beneath him, until opening 

 his clear-cut wings he shoots upwards without effort. 



Most anxious of fathers is the tiercel, and he continues 

 to utter his alarm cry till all chance of danger to his young 

 has passed. But almost before the young of the peregrine 

 have left the egg, the young ravens have taken their first 

 flight, for is not the raven held to be the first of all nesting 

 birds? An old Gaelic saying has it: "Nead mu Bhrighid, 

 ugh mu Inid, Eun mu Chaisg, Mur bidh sin aig an fhitheach, 

 Bithidh am bas." Or, "Nest at Candlemas, egg at Shrove- 

 tide, bird at Easter; if the raven have not these he has worse 

 that is, death." 



Of all birds the raven was and is perhaps still held 

 by the Gael to possess the greatest knowledge. "Fios 

 ceann fithich " ("the knowledge of the raven's head ") is a 

 Gaelic proverb, yet these birds often choose for their nest- 

 ing-site an easily accessible rock, where the nest can be 

 harried or the young birds killed, while all around are great 

 cliffs where they would be safe from the interference of 

 irate keepers or shepherds. 



There is something very attractive in watching on a 

 fine summer day a family of ravens sailing across the rock- 

 strewn moor in leisurely flight. Every now and again the 

 parent birds tumble in the air with that peculiar movement 

 so characteristic of them, and from time to time their deep 

 croak carries through the quiet air. 



On the grassy islands which fringe the Ross near its 

 western end, red-breasted mergansers make their nests when 

 full summer is come and the grass is long on the islands. 

 Here the duck lays her large clutch of eggs, sometimes 



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