AMONGST THE PTARMIGAN. 47 



expanse of moorland is before you, and grouse are 

 abundant, but the climb is a stiff one, and requires 

 an amount of toil that would dishearten ordinary 

 shooters. Let only that wild hillside be reached, 

 and then, if you hold your gun straight, all your 

 trouble will be compensated for by the number of 

 grouse that will fall to your gun. Bang ! bang ! goes 

 the breechloader, and I see that the shooter has made 

 his mark, for an old bird, being heavily hit, " towers/' 

 flying straight upwards as long as life lasts, then 

 twisting and tumbling it falls from its high altitude, 

 dropping dead at my feet. A bird of beautiful 

 plumage and fine condition was this, probably three 

 or four years old, its legs being closely feathered down 

 to the extremity. 



As we journeyed along I came upon a little rill 

 with a tiny waterfall, by the side of which was a 

 lovely bed of ferns, growing luxuriantly around the 

 basin ; the purple heather blooming beautifully in this 

 sheltered nook. 



Owing to the heavy rainfall, this part of the moor 

 was so wet that it was only to be compared to a moist 

 sponge on a large scale, and the walking was most 

 difficult. Forgetting for a moment the caution I had 

 received when I first entered on the moor as to 

 treading on the very light green mossy spots that 

 are so frequently met with, I set my foot on what 

 appeared to be safe ground, but only to find myself 

 up to the knees in the cold spring and deep mud of 

 this man-trap. Very cold was that water when it 

 trickled over the tops of my boots, admonishing me 

 to use more caution for the future when traversing a 

 mossy piece of moorland. 



