Wanderings of a Naturalist 



From time to time she appears to turn on her side, scooping 

 up the gravel with her tail, and so covering with every stroke 

 the spawn that is all the time being dropped. A cock fish, 

 lying beside her, fertilizes the spawn as it is deposited. 



As the sun dips behind the hills the salmon become more 

 active, for they seem to prefer, when spawning, a dull day 

 or the hours of twilight. Many fish can be seen, and in all 

 directions the water is disturbed as the males rush with light- 

 ning speed upon each other. During the excitement of a fight 

 I have known of salmon actually running themselves ashore, 

 and with difficulty regaining the water. They are sometimes, 

 too, hemmed in and imprisoned by the ice. Just above the 

 spawning beds flocks of goosanders are swimming on the 

 river, probably having nefarious designs on the ova. A 

 water ouzel is swimming and diving energetically, though in 

 too strong-running water to render this little bird open to 

 suspicion of feeding on the spawn. How gracefully it swims 

 in the rough water, or dives and walks along the stony bed of 

 the river in eager search of aquatic larvae. On one occasion, 

 after perching on a stone, it flies out into mid-stream and 

 plunges tern-like beneath the surface for an instant, its keen 

 eyes having sighted some edible morsel in the water. 



Though hidden from my view, the setting sun still shines 

 on Lochnagar, transforming its upper slopes and snow-en- 

 crusted cairn to a beautiful rosy glow. On Beinn a* Bhuird 

 a thin grey cloud is forming, to be tinged with pink as the 

 sun strikes it from behind. 



From the fir woods there comes the hoarse roar of a 

 belated stag; otherwise intense stillness prevails, and the 

 frost settles yet more closely, binding hill and glen in her 

 icy grip. 



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