304 THE ZOOLOGIST. 
A SEASON WITH THE BIRDS OF ANGLESEY 
AND NORTH CARNARVONSHIRE. 
By T. Owen. 
Tue 21st day of February dawns at last, when it has been 
proposed that we should visit the mountains to observe our 
friend the Raven. The Thrush has been pouring forth its sweet 
music from the early morn, and the Great Tit, with its saw- 
rasping note, has been active in the trees about. The day does 
not look very promising, but all is well up to 2 p.m., and we 
lead forth our bicyles into the roadway, and soon are riding 
towards our destination, eleven miles away. 
On the way we see a flock of Sea-gulls which have just left 
off following the ploughman at his work, and are flying off 
probably to the now ebbing tide to gorge themselves further- 
more, much to the relief, we suppose, of both the man and 
horses. A Chaffinch, busily feeding on the roadway, waits until 
the front wheel of one of our machines is upon it, and nearly 
becomes entangled in the spokes, but somehow it manages to flit 
on to a hedge, uttering a sweet ‘‘ pink, pink.’ After riding for 
a couple of miles or so in this mountainous district we come 
to a good-sized lake, on which we perceive six Wigeon, their 
chestnut-coloured heads being conspicuous a long way off. We 
still have about three miles to cover before we come to the 
crag where a pair of Ravens are known by us to nest annually, 
but we soon arrive there and dismount. 
Leaving our bicycles, we push forwards, and soon are 
climbing over the boulders and heather-clad slopes, stopping 
now and again to recover our breath, and meanwhile cast our 
eyes in various directions in the hope of seeing the Ravens. As 
we proceed we are suddenly attracted by a loud “kak, kak, 
kak” above us, and, looking up, we behold a Peregrine Falcon 
that has just left its look-out ledge, and is now flying spirally 
upwards. It swoops once again towards the ledge, and, giving 
