JANUARY 13 



HI 



It was on 25th November 1913 that, after a morning 

 and noontide of vehement rain had cleared 

 up an hour or so before sundown, I persuaded 

 two ladies whom I hold in high esteem that it was not 

 in accord with the cardinal principles of hygiene to sit 

 any longer with their toes on the fender, forasmuch as 

 human blood requires to have fresh oxygen pumped 

 into it periodically if it is to retain its carmine colour. 

 Accordingly, we set out for a brisk tramp before the 

 early gloaming (or 'dimsey' as the Devonshire folk 

 prettily call it) round the Sanctuary Lake. 



It was a lucky hazard that turned our footsteps that 

 way; but for that, we should have missed one of the 

 most beautiful and unfamiliar spectacles in bird life to 

 be seen in these islands. As we paced along the loch- 

 side, the still airwas filled suddenly with strange clamour, 

 and, looking up, we beheld a flight of great birds. Swans 

 — wild swans — would they alight on our lake ? or 

 would they tantalise us by continuing their flight to 

 the bay, distant but a mile, or to one of the many 

 other lochs and tarns in the neighbourhood ? Scarcely, 

 methought, would they venture down, for we had no 

 time to attempt concealment ; yet, as luck would have 

 it, these fair creatures heeded not the presence of three 

 human beings and a black terrier. They swung round 

 in wide circles, trumpeting loudly, and lit upon the 

 glass-calm surface of the loch about three hundred 

 yards from where we stood. They were whoopers, 

 nineteen of them, all, except three dusky cygnets, in 



