Wanderings of a Naturalist 



places have been carefully searched, but on one occasion I 

 came across an unusually handsome crystal just showing 

 above the gravel within a very short distance of the top of 

 Ben MacDhui, and where many persons must have passed 

 close to it. 



From where the March burn drops in cascades from beside 

 Lochan Buidhe into the Lairig a thousand feet below, an 

 exceptionally fine view was had to-day of the Pools of Dee. 

 There are four of these pools — two small and insignificant, 

 two of a fair size. No breeze drifted across them, and I had 

 the unforgettable experience of watching, through the glass, 

 many trout breaking the surface of the unruffled waters — for 

 the sunny interval and the dropping of the north wind were 

 bringing forth a multitude of flies and the trout were taking 

 full advantage of their presence. 



Through the Lairig ptarmigan flitted, their snow-white 

 wings things of beauty against the dark rocks and wastes of 

 scree. One allowed me to approach to within fifteen feet, and 

 I was able to admire to the full his sombre autumn plumage 

 of lichen-grey. 



It is rare indeed that the eagle is absent from the Lairig 

 summit. To-day he beat up and down and across the Lairig 

 looking for his prey, the ptarmigan, but having, while I 

 watched him, no success with his hunting. Now soaring in 

 spirals with the clear sunlight full on him, now closing his 

 wings to shoot plummet-like towards the earth, the eagle 

 exulted in the joy of perfect flight. Once I saw him do an 

 unusual thing — namely, fly at great speed with rapid wing 

 beats and clear-cut flight. I cannot recall ever previously 

 having seen a golden eagle hurry; he indeed rarely moves 

 his wings at all, and when he does so his wing beats are 

 slow and almost — if one may dare say it of the King of Birds 

 — laboured. 



The valley of the Spey was reached at sunset. The air 

 was clear and still, and in Rothiemurchus Forest pines and 

 birches were scenting the night. Looking back, all the 



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