102 THE ZOOLOGIST. 



universe, seems concentrated in the breast — the " excellent 

 white bosom " — of the sitting bird — to such an extent, indeed, 

 that coming, any day, and perceiving her no longer on the nest 

 (made empty both of her and hers, perhaps, by one who came 

 not to observe, but to destroy),* the eye misses something which 

 it in vain endeavours to do without, finding the landscape dreary 

 and comfortless, without a heart, as it were, to beat in it. 

 Doubtless the size of the Swan, added to her grace and comeli- 

 ness, helps to produce this impression, which, fanciful as it may 

 seem, I have felt myself very keenly, insomuch that I tried, 

 once, to think it was concealing coloration only, and nothing 

 else scientific, that made the bird (or rather the pair of them) 

 thus suddenly, and ever afterwards, invisible — but it would 

 not do. 



Shortly after seeing us — and she sees us immediately— the 

 Swan takes to the water. I am behind rising ground when she 

 does so, but Sigurdsson calls to me, and, coming round the 

 ridge, I see her upon it, whilst three out of four little fluffy-grey 

 cygnets, who really have, now, a somewhat concealing colora- 

 tion (which on principles not necessarily incompatible with its 

 theory, since white mists may be more frequent than grey ones, 

 they are shortly to lose), have followed her, one half-way to the 

 edge, and the other two farther. The mother bird, as I take 

 her to be, hangs about, near the bank, on the water, and utters, 

 at intervals, a note which has very much the sound of " hoop, 

 hoop," whence, perhaps, as some might argue, comes the old 

 English name of "Hooper Swan," for it was originally spelt 

 in this way. She certainly seems trying to call the young ones 

 to her into the water, but they do not come, and this makes me 

 think that they have not yet been into it. 



We now set up the tent in a place where it is not visible from 

 the island, but, before this is accomplished, 1 crawl to a good 

 place of espial, and find the parent Swan sitting on the bank, 

 with three of her cygnets under her, whilst the fourth still sits 

 in the nest. I continue to watch after being left alone, and, 

 after a time, the old Swan gets up and walks to the nest, which 

 she ascends, and broods the one cygnet. The three others 

 follow slowly and by short stages — toddling, as it were — and 

 ■• Collect, the wise it call." 



