34 BIRDS OF THE WEST OF SCOTLAND. 



growing. The nest is composed of small sticks and heather stems, 

 but is without any lining; the eggs are from three to five in number, 

 and, unlike those of the kestrel, are subject to little variety. In a 

 nest in Argyleshire one of the four eggs it contained was almost 

 pure cream-coloured. In the western counties and I may say in 

 also the eastern, especially in East Lothian I have observed the 

 bird itself to be tolerably common on the sea coast, where it could 

 satisfy its partiality for shore birds. It seems to prefer sanderlings, 

 dunlins, and snipes, these being oftenest found in its nest, though 

 it be situated on some moor at a considerable distance from the 

 sea. I have seen it also killing larks and wheatears. 



I recollect on one occasion finding a Merlin's nest on one of the 

 Haddingtonshire moors, by the side of a ravine filled with great 

 square blocks of grey rock and clumps of feathery birch trees, the 

 banks being decorated with patches of beautiful heather and 

 luxuriant grass. On a little platform near the summit of one of 

 these blocks, which appeared ready to tumble into the glen, the 

 nest was placed beside a tuft of heath, with three fine stalks of 

 foxglove bending slightly forward and gracefully shaking their 

 bells over the heads of the young falcons as they sat waiting an 

 arrival. I was about ten feet above them, peeping over the em- 

 bankment under a spreading hazel, and well out of sight of the old 

 birds, should they come. They sat like miniature eagles in a line 

 facing the course of the tumbling burn at the bottom of the 

 ravine, and I could discern nothing like an impatient look in any 

 of them. They appeared to be in full feather, and I could not 

 help admiring the four healthy fellows reposing on their pictur- 

 esque watch-tower, even though it savoured badly of unfinished 

 dinners and the trampled remains of seafaring dotterel. Taking 

 an old letter from my pocket, I tore off several bits, and let them 

 down in a shower on their backs, which had the effect of making 

 each give his neighbour a smart rap on the side of the head, and 

 lift first one foot, then the other, as if the perch were becoming 

 too hot for them. But just as I was about to repeat the infliction, 

 their mother pitched down suddenly beside them with a golden 

 plover in her claws, which she laid down, unconcernedly, as I 

 thought, but in reality relaxing her grasp with a truly inquiring 

 look at so many visitors' cards on the premises. In an instant 

 she looked in all directions, and at once divining nothing good, 

 from my head between her and the sky, she disappeared like a 



