162 THE ORNITHOLOGIST. 



the Twite on the edge of the cliff, and I suspected its nest was 

 at hand. The little bird, so graceful in appearance, and so 

 alert in action, would seize one of the tiny flowerets of the sea- 

 pink in its bill, and, lowering it to the ground, hold it in its foot 

 and extract the seeds one by one, allowing the scales to fall 

 away. Presently she flew to an adjoining fence, hemming in 

 the headland, and then disappeared for a time. I turned to 

 watch the Gulls again, and saw the young birds running along 

 the ledges, and one more advanced than the others attempting 

 flight. As I lay still I heard the merry noise of young birds 

 being fed close at hand, and was so guided to the Twite's nest 

 amongst the rocks just opposite the spot where I lay. But 

 it was safe from my intrusion, placed on a shelf between two 

 perpendicular slabs of rock, and sheltered behind a patch of 

 silene. The five young birds were fully feathered, almost 

 ready to fly, and they sat in a line, clamouring whilst their 

 parent fed them. The old bird again resorted to the sea-pink, 

 and took short flights from one jutting stone to another, but 

 instead of again feeding them, departed, to remain away 

 during my stay, and the youngsters, after fidgeting on the 

 edge, settled down in peace and quietness. On my departure, 

 however, both Twites were calling beside me. 



A long detour was necessary round the next cliffs, which 

 from their lack of life failed in interest. A few Gulls were 

 about, a Shag and a Black Guillemot were seen, and Bock- 

 pipits, as hitherto, were on the landward portion. The 

 scenery, however, was made more impressive in the absence 

 of anything to detract from it. Following this came a long 

 point which might perhaps be passed without any loss, but 

 it must not be omitted if we are to be able to say afterwards 

 that we searched the shore carefully. The rocks in our 

 immediate vicinity are not prepossessing, but as we move 

 outwards a spot is reached where the grass-clad cliff sends 

 forth a huge jutting boulder with a downward slope into the 

 bank. This surely is the proper ground at last. I stand 

 still on the crest a few moments, and clap my hands sharply 

 several times, when from beneath my feet there issues at once 

 a huge uncouth bird. It differed entirely from the picture 

 I had beforehand formed, but it was the Erne at last. From 



