'Twixt Bamburgh and Lindisfarne 



plumage, their back feathers of a rich reddish brown and legs 

 of scarlet making them pleasing objects to watch. 



In one of the fields near the castle, late in the evening, 

 I stalked a very unusual bird, one which I do not think has 

 ever previously been recorded on Lindisfarne. The strange 

 visitor was in a field of sprouting oats, and on being alarmed 

 crouched low with long neck held erect. In size it was, I 

 should say, a little smaller than a hen capercaillie, and on 

 taking flight showed conspicuous white wings. In flying the 

 wings were held somewhat pendulously, and its wing beats 

 were rapid, though not powerful. It was apparently of the 

 tribe of the bustard, and although I am unfamiliar with the 

 species, I imagine the bird was a hen little bustard, a bird 

 of which there are few records along our coasts, and scarcely 

 any so late in the season as April. 



Towards evening the wind dropped, while out to sea great 

 masses of cumulus clouds betokened thunder. After dark, 

 from the terrace of the castle I watched awhile the young 

 moon shedding her rays on the dark waters beneath. Away 

 out to sea the flashing light of the Longstone stabbed the 

 gloom with its powerful rays, and near it shone the lesser light 

 from the Inner Fame. South of us the red beacon on Bam- 

 burgh point glowed dimly. The wind, now strong from the 

 west, roared about the old chimneys, but in the open 

 hearth was a great fire of wood, so that a genial warmth per- 

 vaded the gallery in which we sat, and pungent and pleasant 

 smells from the glowing embers. Through the night, with a 

 quickly rising glass, the wind veered north, and morning 

 broke clear and almost cloudless, though with a heavy sea 

 running. Only one of the Lindisfarne boats ventured to sea, 

 and she had a very rough time of it as the men worked at their 

 crab-pots off the north end of the island. 



From the battlements of the castle there was on this day an 

 unsurpassed view of the Northumbrian coast. In the bright 

 sunlight Cheviot stood out clearly, with two wreaths of winter 

 snow still lingering on its east-facing slopes. Northward lay 



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