30 A YEAR OF SPORT AND NATURAL HISTORY. 



the water. As luck will have it, on the nearest loch, the shore of 

 which is, not two hundred yards from us, are some thirty swans 

 and an immense number of ducks — mostly widgeon — all mixed up 

 together, and deeply intent on making a meal off the grass and 

 weeds with which the tarn abounds. A powerful pair of glasses 

 enable me to scrutinize their every movement, and for nearly 

 half an hour we watch the scene with interest. Although a noble 

 bird, the wild swan is not nearly so graceful or majestic on the water 

 as its tame brother; when swimming it does not push out its wings 

 as does the latter, nor has it the same proud carriage of head and 

 neck. As the largest of wildfowl, it is, of course, an object of 

 ambition to every sportsman, but it is of no use for the table, and 

 only fit for stuffing or for a present. Some folk assert that a 

 young cygnet roasted is not bad eating, but personally I had 

 rather go without. Of the five Black Lochs, three are too deep 

 to form good feeding-ground for swans, even their long necks 

 cannot reach the grasses and weeds at the bottom ; the other 

 two are much shallower, with low grassy islands and banks, but 

 one of these is practically useless, there not being a bit of cover 

 for a distance of at least one hundred and fifty yards all round. 

 There remains, therefore, only the other shallow loch further on, 

 on the surface of which there are no big birds, as we see with our 

 glasses. Bob and I being pretty well frozen, retire from the ridge 

 of the hillock, and as a result of the council of war then held, 

 "Garry" is sent forward toward the loch; instantly the air is 

 alive with the fowl, and resounding with their various cries of 

 alarm ; but although we sit very tight and close, not a single 

 swan comes within shot, and all make off to sea. 



Then we stretch our stiffened limbs, have a stiff dose of raw 



