92 THE ZOOLOGIST. 
so certain) flies in with a fish. He swims up to the farther end 
of the loch, dives, but comes up farther from the point than 
where he went down, plays with the fish, then swims towards 
the point again, and is met, when some way from it, by the 
female and young. Presumably, then, one of the two chicks 
receives the fish, but this, in the light—which, though still a 
sort of daylight was not so good for the glasses—I could not 
make out. After this, the chicks divided themselves between 
the two parents, and after they had all swam about, a little, 
the male, as far as 1 could make out—it being now not so easy 
—swam, with his chick, round the accustomed point, whilst 
the female remained, and still, at 9.50, remains, with her chick 
at the nearer (that is, my) end of the loch. 
As it grew gradually darker, observation became more and 
more difficult, but I continued to watch the mother and chick, 
and at last the mother only—the smaller spot having become 
indiscernible—till, at last, at 10.5, and when I could still see 
the larger one, it had, all at once, disappeared. Yet the patch 
of water on which it had been moving was darker altogether 
than the larger expanse over which the birds would have had to 
pass, to join the other couple, and where, had they done so, I 
would, Iam sure, have seen both. I had swept this, at short 
intervals, with my glasses, all the time, and did again as soon 
as I missed the darker patch on the darker and smaller expanse, 
and for some little time afterwards. This going out, all at once 
—not, beyond a certain point, gradually—of these two birds I 
had been watching, is I think best explained by their having 
taken the bank, and by reason of this, and having regard to 
what I have just said, I may, I think, conclude that it is the 
habit of these birds, when rearing their young, for the two 
parents to pass the night, separated from each other and each 
with a chick.* 
I now lay down against, and partly under, the low peaty bank 
of this former slight extension of the little loch—no doubt still 
such in the winter—making the best use of plaid, mackintosh, 
umbrella and Shetland shawl. Luckily the rain that fell after 
this was but slight, but there was no comfort, and but little, if 
any, sleep in the situation, and about 1 a.m. I was at my post 
* See, however, posted. 
