612 The Zoologist— March, 1867. 



still I fear that poison has had more to do with his extermination than 

 all the trapping and shooting. 



The day was hot, and after a pipe and a chat about the eagles we 

 stretched ourselves out on the fragrant turf, and were soon fast asleep. 

 After a time I heard indistinctly through my slumbers the hackelting 

 of an angry tercel, which grew more and more clear, until I sat up, 

 rubbed my eyes, and behold, it was no dream ! — for there, above my 

 head hovered the author of all the noise, whilst the female's longer note 

 mingled with his as she darted to and fro. We at once joined our 

 guides, who were ascending a spur of the cliff to the west, bearing, to 

 our great delight, three peregrine's eggs which they had just taken. 

 A few hours hence it would have beeu too late, for the young had 

 already begun to chip the shell of two of the eggs, which throbbed as 

 if they would burst, while the chirpings of the inmates could be 

 distinctly heard. We proceeded to the shelter afforded by an old 

 stone wall, for the wind was strong, and 



"Sorrow and shame it were to tell 

 The butcher work that there befell." 



Suffice it to say we saved the eggs, though the holes were rather 

 large. 



On the very evening of our arrival Mr. M., the agent of the Ards 

 estate, had most kindly sent off a message to his shepherd up in the 

 mountains, who, on account of his lambs, was keeping a sharp look 

 out for the Muckish golden eagle. From him we now learned that 

 there certainly was one pair about, and that they had been seen during 

 the past week; he did not, however, know of their present breeding- 

 place, but only that of the previous year, which had been robbed, and 

 to which they had not returned. It was quite clear that nothing but 

 a most wonderful "fluke" would enable us to find the eyrie in that 

 tremendous range formed by Muckish, Alton, Errigal and a host of 

 smaller mountaius, so we turned our attention to smaller game, and set 

 out next morning for the cliffs of Breachy, on the other side of the 

 bay. 



We were soon reminded that Donegal was " proclaimed," by a police 

 sergeant asking, with many apologies, for our license to carry a gun, 

 and, having produced our permit, we followed the windings of the 

 shore to where a number of the natives were landing " yah " or sea- 

 weed from the "coraghs" and boats that had been out gathering this 

 "harvest of the sea." For those who have never seen a " coragh," I 



