CHAP, xix.] HERONRY ON THE FINDHORN. 159 



night their black cowl is complete. In the evenings and at 

 nighttime thousands of these birds collect on the bay, and every 

 one of them appears to be chattering at once, so that the whole 

 flock together make a noise that drowns every other sound or 

 cry for a considerable distance round them. 



March 6th. I observe that the herons in the heronry on the 

 Findhorn are now busily employed in sitting on their eggs, the 

 heron being one of the first birds to commence breeding in this 

 country. A more curious and interesting sight than the Find- 

 horn heronry I do not know : from the top of the high rocks on 

 the east side of the river you look down into every nest, the 

 herons breeding on the opposite side of the river, which is here 

 very narrow. The cliffs and rocks are studded with splendid 

 pines and larch, and fringed with all the more lowly but not 

 less beautiful underwood which abounds in this country. Con- 

 spicuous amongst these are the bird-cherry and mountain-ash, 

 the holly and the wild rose; while the golden blossoms of furze 

 and broom enliven every crevice and corner in the rock. Oppo- 

 site to you is a wood of larch and oak, on the latter of which 

 trees are crowded a vast number of the nests of the heron. 

 The foliage and small branches of the oaks that they breed on 

 seem entirely destroyed, leaving nothing but the naked arms 

 and branches of the trees on which the nests are placed. The 

 same nests, slightly repaired, are used year after year. Looking 

 down at them from the high banks of the Altyre side of the 

 river, you can see directly into their nests, and can become ac- 

 quainted with the whole of their domestic economy. You can 

 plainly see the green eggs, and also the young herons, who fear- 

 lessly, and conscious of the security they are left in, are con- 

 stantly passing backwards and forwards and alighting on the 

 topmost branches of the larch or oak trees, whilst the still 

 younger birds sit bolt upright in the nest, snapping their beaks 

 together with a curious sound. Occasionally a grave-looking 

 heron is seen balancing himself by some incomprehensible feat 

 of gymnastics on the very topmost twig of a larch-tree, where 

 he swings about in an unsteady manner, quite unbecoming so 

 sage-looking a bird. Occasionally a thievish jackdaw dashes 

 out from the cliffs opposite the heronry and flies straight into 

 some unguarded nest, seizes one of the large green eggs, and flies 



