To Mountain Tarn 



rose painfully into the air. Then a second curious 

 thing happened. The female, that had been so 

 busy while the fight lasted, stopped building, as 

 though she had no further interest in her work. 

 Her leaning was to the conquered, an unusual 

 thing in birds. Her heart was with the drowned 

 osprey. The torn victor approached her in vain ; 

 she would have none of him. She flew away, 

 and that year was no nest. 



The old castle remains with the site, but no 

 sitter is there. The loch offers the olden 

 picturesque environment, and much of the olden 

 remoteness and quiet, but no bird poises in the 

 air or breaks the stillness of the water. 



By these lochs in the olden (a letter would make 

 them golden) times, a double picture might often 

 be seen. The kestrel moved round in a circle 

 to scan the ground. With wing pulsations, slow 

 .or quick, but always intense, it poised over one 

 spot. It dipped or rose for focus. Then it 

 dropped on the vole. So wheeled the osprey on 

 the lake. So it hung suspended over the trout. 

 So it dipped or rose, till the blurred outline be- 

 came clear enough for the stoop. 



On the close of nesting, the osprey, like the 

 peregrine, becomes a wanderer. Then it follows 

 the course of streams, which may issue from the 

 lakes. It poises, startling the solitary angler as 

 it breaks the stillness of the pool. Emerging, it 

 shakes its plumage, raining down the drops. 



