26 Their stomachs have to be feathered, 
the shed and then flew out to sea, as if afraid. He flew off with the 
food, which, I fancy, was the breast of a curlew. Five minutes 
later he was back in the eyrie. He only offered the young a little 
of it and then settled down to brood again. I am now writing 
almost in the dark ; it is past nine. 
May 24th —Last night I watched, and wrote till it was too dark 
to see. The Tiercel settled down and tried his best to cover the 
chicks, and for some time after one or other could be seen or heard 
shuffling to get under its father’s breast. As it was now getting 
rather late, I had a little refreshment and got my bed ready. It 
was still possible to see the white outlines on the outer sides of his 
moustachial black patches, and also his white chin and breast as 
well, as he brooded. A little later, when the moon came out, these 
white patches were quite distinct, almost in the form of a white 
cravat, against the dark outlines of his beak and head. At Io p.m. 
I turned in too. I woke up—still dark—fancy I heard the young 
Falcons calling—listen--and after a few minutes hear the sounds 
again—so sit up and can just see the dark outline of the brooding 
bird, with his white front and the white chicks beneath. So strike 
a light and find it is 2.45 a.m. Listen, and all is still for a time, 
then several times I hear oyster-catchers calling as they pass, and 
feel sure that this was the sound that roused me, as all is quiet in 
the eyrie and the Tiercel is still brooding. Have some breakfast, 
as I have had very little since my arrival, because, owing to the 
way the wind was rising last night, I thought there was some chance 
of my being weather-bound ; but the wind soon went down again. 
It is now 3.15, and getting light, so I doze, sitting up in order to be 
ready and to avoid falling fast asleep. At 4.10 a.m. the Falcon 
commences “ Hek-hekking”’ loudly, and I think she is in the air. 
The Tiercel leaves the eyrie and joins her. I catch sight of both 
flying round; but in a few minutes he returns without any food and 
broods again. At 4.50 a.m. the Falcon is calling the long-drawn- 
out, gull-like food cry, to which he immediately replies with the 
same cry and flies out to meet her. She transfers the quarry 
from her talons to his in the air. He brings it in, a song thrush, 
an adult, and quite intact, head and all. He feeds the young with 
it, occasionally swallowing a piece himself. He is very careful to 
