CHAP. XIX.] HERONRY ON THE FINDHORN. 153 
night their black cowl is complete. In the evenings and at 
nighttime thousands of these birds collect on the bay, and every 
one of them appears to be chattering at once, so that the whole 
flock together make a noise that drowns every other sound or 
cry for a considerable distance round them. 
March 6th.—I observe that the herons in the heronry on the 
Findhorn are now busily employed in sitting on their eggs, the 
heron being one of the first birds to commence breeding in this 
country. A more curious and interesting sight than the Find- 
horn heronry I do not know: from the top of the high rocks on 
the east side of the river you look down into every nest, the 
herons breeding on the opposite side of the river, which is here 
very narrow. The cliffs and rocks are studded with splendid 
pines and larch, and fringed with all the more lowly but not 
less beautiful underwood which abounds in this country. Con- 
spicuous amongst these are the bird-cherry and mountain-ash, 
the holly and the wild rose; while the golden blossoms of furze 
and broom enliven every crevice and corner in the rock. Oppo- 
site to you is a wood of larch and oak, on the latter of which 
trees are, crowded a vast number of the nests of the heron. 
The foliage and small branches of the oaks that they breed on 
seem entirely destroyed, leaving nothing but the naked arms 
and branches of the tree on which the nests are placed. The 
same nests, slightly repaired, are used year after year. Looking 
down at them from the high banks of the Altyre side of the 
river, you can see directly into their nests, and can become ac- 
quainted with the whole of their domestic economy. You can 
plainly see the green eggs, and also the young herons, who fear- 
lessly, and conscious of the security they are left in, are con- 
stantly passing backwards and forwards and alighting on the 
topmost branches of the larch or oak trees, whilst the still 
younger birds sit bolt upright in the nest, snapping their beaks 
together with a curious sound. Occasionally a grave-looking 
heron is seen balancing himself by some incomprehensible feat 
of gymnastics on the very topmost twig of a larch-tree, where 
he swings about in an unsteady manner, quite unbecoming so 
sage-looking a bird. Occasionally a thievish jackdaw dashes 
out from the cliffs opposite the heronry and flies straight inte 
some unguarded nest, seizes one of the large green eggs, and flies 
