48 HAPPY HUNTING-GROUNDS 



he was so close that I could almost reach him with 

 my landing-net. I stretched it out toward him and 

 almost touched his tail, but he just managed to evade 

 capture. I had on long waders, so I splashed after 

 him in the water, and he half swam, half fluttered on in 

 front of me, always managing to keep just, but only just, 

 out of reach. Of course I had made up my mind that 

 he was wounded or injured in some way, and that his 

 capture was in the interest of true humanity, and 

 could only be a matter of time. My surprise may be 

 imagined when, after a chase which had lasted at least 

 a quarter of an hour, the supposed cripple suddenly 

 developed renewed energy, spread his wings, and 

 flying high over the top of Dun Add in the direc- 

 tion of Crinan Bay, was soon lost to sight. At 

 Colonsay I saw specimens pretty often, but having 

 realised that the reason they kept so close was that 

 they had no fear, or desire to avoid mankind, I con- 

 tented myself with watching them with ever fresh 

 delight. It is not only in their semi-webbed feet that 

 they form a link with the duck tribe. Their manner 

 of swimming about in the tidal pools closely resembles 

 that of a miniature duck. Their position in the water 

 is exactly like that of a mallard, with head, neck, 

 back, and half the breast out of water. 



The sands at low tide were covered with vast 

 quantities of wading-birds of every description, vary- 

 ing in size from the heron to the tiny ringed plover. 

 I do not profess to give the names of all the smaller 

 varieties. I found it impossible, even with a powerful 

 glass, to identify their species with accuracy ; and I 

 did not feel the collector's instinct sufficiently strongly 

 to induce me to destroy the harmless little lives on 



