THE GOLDEN EAGLE. 115 
on plundering his nest, leaves him to pursue his course unmolested. Over woods 
and green fields, and scattered hamlets, speeds the Eagle, and now he enters the 
long valley of the Dee, near the upper end of which is dimly seen through the 
thin grey mist the rock of his nest. About a mile from it he meets his mate, 
who has been abroad on a similar errand, and is returning with a white hare in 
her talons. They congratulate each other with loud yelping cries, which rouse 
the drowsy shepherd on the strath below who, mindful of the lambs being carried 
off in spring-time, sends after them his malediction. Now they reach their nest, 
and are greeted by their young with loud clamour. 
“Let us mark the spot. It is the shelf of a rock, concealed by a projecting 
angle, so that it cannot be injured from above, and too distant from the base to 
be reached by a shot. In the crevices are luxuriant tufts of Rhodiola rosea, and 
scattered around are many Alpine plants, which it would delight the botanist to 
enumerate. The mineralogist would not be less pleased could he with chisel and 
hammer reach that knob which glitters with crystals of quartz and felspar. The 
nest is a bulky fabric, five feet at least in diameter, rudely constructed of dead 
sticks, twigs, and heath, flat unless in the centre, where it is a little hollowed, and 
covered with wool and feathers. Slovenly creatures you would think those two 
young birds, clothed with white down, amid which the larger feathers are seen 
projecting, for their fluid dung is scattered all over the sticks, and you see that 
had the nest been formed more compactly of softer materials it would have been 
less comfortable. Strewn around too are fragments of lambs, hares, grouse, and 
other birds, in various stages of decay. Alighting on the edges of the nest the 
Eagles deposit their prey, partially pluck off the hair and feathers, and rudely 
tearing up the flesh, lay it before their ever-hungry young.” 
In Scotland the Golden Eagle nests early in April, often while the snow is 
still deep upon the hills, selecting a rock generally nearer the bottom than the 
top of a mountain, and rarely more than 1000 feet above the sea-level. The ledge 
chosen is almost invariably sheltered by some overhanging crag, the nest built up 
of sticks and heather is a large structure, five or six feet across, and is always 
‘lined with tufts of the grass Luzula sylvatica. The eggs are laid about roth 
April, and are one, two, or three in number; an instance of four having been 
found has been recorded. When there are three one is usually addled, and is not 
so well coloured as the other two. The eggs vary both in size and colour; some 
are almost completely white; others are closely powdered over with dull brick 
red; others have lilac underlying shell markings, and are handsomely blotched 
with red. Those laid by Scotch Eagles are reputed by some collectors to be the 
largest in size and the best marked; the writer has known £10 asked for a clutch 
