26 A BIRD COLLECTOR'S MEDLEY. 



Hawk or a Raven, but nothing appeared more exciting than a Kestrel, though 

 at the Land's End itself Shags and Cormorants were numerous, and it was 

 interesting to see Wild Herring Gulls feeding side by side with domestic fowls. 

 A stay of a week on the Lizard promontory was far more entertaining from an 

 ornithological point of view. The country here is much wilder, and the cliff 

 scenery more attractive to birds. We began by exploring the Goonhill Downs 

 as being a recognized resort of Harriers. They were certainly wild enough 

 and well suited to their habits in other ways, but all w r e actually saw was a 

 Crake of some sort disappearing into reeds, and various Kestrels suspended 

 over the moor. 



On returning to the Lizard, we called at the cottage of the local naturalist, 

 where we saw a stuffed Peregrine and a Chough, both killed some years before, 

 and learnt that a Harrier had been slain in the preceding spring by a farmer, 

 who waited a fortnight for the shot. So much for the chance of meeting with 

 one of these birds nowadays, even in their most favoured haunts ! As for the 

 Chough, it was seven years since one had been seen. Peregrines were not so 

 scarce. Twice, at least, my brother got a glimpse of this bird while bathing 

 before breakfast, and on one occasion two were playing with one another 

 in mid-air near the Lizard Lighthouse. 



But perhaps the most characteristic bird of the neighbourhood was the 

 Raven. We only realised just before leaving that it was as common as it was. 

 True, the old fisherman asserted that he could find one any time upon the 

 cliffs, and so no doubt he could. I, myself, in pursuance of the programme 

 sketched out by him, spent a whole day between the Lizard and Kynance 

 vainly endeavouring to outwit what proved after all to be nothing more than 

 a pair of Carrion Crows. I can claim little credit for the discovery, which was 

 not even due to my own powers of observation, but came about in this way. 



Towards evening, I was for the twentieth time, or thereabouts, proceeding 

 to try and stalk a sable figure perched upon a projecting rock of wide prospect. 

 Judged in the light of various similar attempts, it was likely to prove a futile 

 undertaking, but whatever slight chances of success I may have possessed 

 were suddenly extinguished by a wild halloo from the cliff above. The bird 

 decamped in a twinkling, and in no very amiable frame of mind I turned to 

 seek the author of the shout. It was a queer sight that I beheld a ragged, 

 uncouth figure was carelessly descending the cliff with a peculiar rolling gait 

 that threatened each minute to hurl him forward down the slope, fortunately 

 not a very steep one at this spot. As he drew near I perceived that, though 

 not exactly drunk, he was at all events in the state nautically known as " half 

 seas over," and I advanced at once from the edge in order to prevent him from 



