74 THE BOOK OF THE OPEN AIR 



following him to quit the spot you now eggs. But neither of the owners are 



occupy. But instead of being led happy, and flying about excitedly, 



away on a wild goose chase, rather they rouse the slumbering echoes of 



explore this likely patch of ground : the moorland siesta with their grating 



and lo ! from the side of a hummock chatter. And your luck does not end 



barely six paces ahead, there suddenly here, for swinging round a bluff at the 



springs a fluttering, trailing form. A bottom end of the track, a diminutive 



wounded plover ? Not a bit of it ! hawk a veritable blue-backed, male 



Advance, and on the very spot that merlin flashes past on the wings of 



she left repose in their lowly nest of the wind. This presiding spirit of the 



cotton grass the four lately-hatched, moors is unaccountably rare on these 



saffron-mottled, downy chicks, almost hills, and to have seen one just at this 



as rich a prize as the Welsh bird-lover spot is a thrice fortunate event. Yet 



can hope for.* For although, taking you do know places and not so far 



Great Britain as a whole, the bird can- distant either where the ruddy eggs 



not be accounted a great rarity, yet can be found, lying objects of tempta- 



the finding of its nest, as a rule, must tion even to the most self-restrained 



ever rank amongst the hardest tasks ornithologist amongst the heather on 



that the nest-hunter has to contend the hillside. 



with. The lengthening shadows laying 



Ramble on, and presently a line of broad splashes of sombre colour on the 



rocks, which mark the excoriated flanks purple crests of the distant hills and 



of a dingle springs up ahead. A clear, the crimsoning sun sinking towards 



piping roundelay, heard with extra Cardigan Bay, itself as it were almost 



delight because in this region song- imaged in the rainbow - tinted 



birds are scarce, bespeaks a ring ouzel clouds, tell you that your glorious day 



in yonder rowan ; and hurrying down is all but over. 



a sheep path thinly painted on the Relinquish the moor then, and wend 



cliff, his mate dashes out noisily from your way five long rugged miles to a 



a tiny fern-clad embrasure, leaving sequestered wayside station. It is still 



for your special delectation her four full light, but the May evening is 



bright bluish-green, chestnut spotted upon you and the soft halloa of a brown 



owl floats musically down dale, and 

 * Young golden plovers stay in the nest for 



at least sixty hours after being hatched. a heron a dark line on the fading 



