CO CRAP-NA-GOWER. 



during summer and autumn, of any bird except the 

 osprey. 



Leaving master Black-back in possession of his platform, 

 like many as noisy an orator equally au fait at gull 

 rhetoric, we stood out for the middle of the Loch, in order 

 to have a good view of the rugged part of Inch Lonach, the 

 territory of the goats. As we expected, we soon twigged 

 their white coats in broad contrast to the dark heather and 

 darker yew-trees. Upon inspecting them through our 

 telescopes, we found they were in a sort of rocky hollow, 

 a capital situation for stalking, and busily engaged in 

 cropping the lower branches of a venerable yew. I saw, 

 with pleasure, that there was considerable difference in 

 their size. When we got to the island, they told us that 

 we could not help knowing the patriarch, as his horns 

 came down to the small of his back, 



As my rifle was only a single barrel, I was anxious to 

 make sure of Mm first, in case he might hide, if alarmed 

 by my firing at the other. Should he do so, we might 

 not find him again all day. 



Crap-na-Gower, the stronghold of the goats, is perhaps 

 the most fascinatin g spot of the far-famed Loch Lomond. 

 It is placed midway between the lovely islands at the foot, 

 and the rugged and romantic grandeur at the head of the 

 Loch, and quite commands the best views of both. It rises 

 perpendicularly out of the Loch, by an almost inaccessible 

 succession of rocks and shaggy heather, full of deep holes 

 and caverns. Seen at a distance from a boat, with its 

 wild-goats browsing among the grey rocks and scaurs, 



