424 VERTEBRATE FAUNA OF LAKELAND 



are ever apprehensive of intrusion, and the arrival of a stranger 

 induces them to hover, with noisy outcry, overhead. A practised 

 eye can often distinguish a female which is about to lay from 

 the other sex, even on the wing. The wide variation in colour 

 exhibited by a large series of eggs adds interest to the examina- 

 tion of any large colony, and scarcely less the contrasts of 

 nesting sites, from masses of half-dried sedge and matted clumps 

 of bog-bean to extensive floes of heather, open marsh, and dry 

 sandhills. I can hardly devote space to describing every local 

 gullery, but a brief allusion to the general appearance of one or 

 two of the number may be acceptable. Moorthwaite Lough, for 

 example, lies in a sheltered hollow, hemmed in on either side by 

 sloping meadows and hawthorn hedges. A nice strip of wood 

 runs along a neighbouring ridge of land, and the Gulls often 

 balance themselves on the branches of the trees. One end of 

 the lough is open and 8 or 10 feet deep, but the greater 

 portion is choked up with equisetum, bog-bean, and some species 

 of grass, whilst a few rushes grow at the water edge. The bog- 

 bean and grassy islets are whitened by the Gulls, some sitting 

 on their nests, if it is early in the season, while their mates 

 stand on guard close beside them. Concerned as they are by 

 interference with their eggs, the charge of their helpless young 

 redoubles the persistency with which they seek to put the 

 enemy to flight. When visiting the colonies on Walney Island 

 in 1891, I felt greatly entertained by the manoeuvres of these 

 birds, and of one pair in particular. As I stooped to handle and 

 caress their offspring, which were crouching in the wiry grass, 

 one bird, apparently the male, made repeated swoops, uttering 

 a deep cry, sounding like ' Baaaaer,' as he dashed down, whilst 

 his mate hovered round with drooping feet and loudly menacing 

 cries. It is curious to see the craftiness displayed by the young, 

 not, indeed, by the very small ones, but by those which are 

 growing strong. Although they can patter down the slopes of 

 the sandhills or run across a shingled beach very fast indeed, 

 they prefer to escape by hiding up. The very little chicks are 

 content to rest quietly in their nest, which at Eavenglass is 

 generally built on the top of a tussock of dry grass. But those 

 feathering hide up and remain so still that it is very difficult to 



