LXXVIII 



A PAIR of ospreys, interesting and noble birds now 

 too seldom seen, remained for several days lately (1895) 

 on the Tweed below Melrose. The osprey 

 must have been a familiar object on that 

 river once, but now, so nearly has the species been 

 exterminated in this country, none of the boatmen 

 knew what these birds were. It is a marvel how this 

 pair escaped destruction, for they were by no means 

 shy. I was not lucky enough to see them myself, but 

 a boatman described how he had watched one of them 

 sailing along the brow of the Gateheugh, whence poured 

 out a swarm of vulgar jackdaws, chattering and scolding 

 the gallant intruder. He paid little heed to them at 

 first, but presently, getting bored by the clamour, just 

 as a luckless daw passed beneath him, the osprey closed 

 his pinions, and, falling on the black rascal, dealt it 

 a blow which sent it whirling helpless into the gulf 

 below. This piece of discipline was enacted twice. I 

 give this under all reserve, as the osprey would not 

 strike anything but fish, except from pugnacity. I did 

 not see these birds to identify them as ospreys, but the 

 description given to me, of birds like large hawks, dark 



