From Fox's Earth 



Poising above, it mirrors itself below. An 

 intense speck where all is vague, it arrests the 

 eye which was wandering over the abounding life. 

 The circling in the air, the downward bend of 

 the head, between the beating wings, are heart- 

 stirring and dramatic. The few trout taken 

 during the summer months are no loss. The 

 most conservative of landlords has no charge. 

 So far as I know, more than one pair do not fish 

 the same sheet ; and a loch is a big place for two 

 birds. 



Nevertheless, the old scenes are dull, the old 

 sites deserted. At the distance of sixty years 

 from the heyday, it is the exception to find the 

 lake that boasts of an osprey. The vandal was 

 not the proprietor. The greater part of the 

 blame attaches to the naturalist. In Sutherland, 

 the same series of events passed, in like order, 

 on to the same issue. All was done in the light 

 there, so that we can follow it more clearly. 



The idyll of our wild life is the osprey, if only 

 for the sake of Charles St. John. It is the 

 brightest vision that passes over his fascinating 

 page ; appears in the brightest episodes of a 

 delightful tour. The other birds of prey might 

 have been gathered round, but to show how this 

 form excelled. The golden eagle has none of 

 the glamour; the peregrine lacks the intense 

 moments of pause and movement ; there is no 

 repose. On the passing of the osprey, dullness 



