LIEUT.-COL. DUTHIE ON BIRDS OF THE MOUNTAIN TOPS. 1 C)I 
i 
XVIII .—Birds of the Mountain Tops. 
By Lieut.-Colonel W. H. M. Duthie, R.A. 
(Read 9th December, 1897.) 
Beyond the curlew-haunted sweeps of desolate moorland, beyond 
the heathery knolls and birch-clad glens, the home of grouse and 
blackgame, above the wild wind-swept corries, and near the tops of 
the highest hills, three of our British Birds are born and reared at 
a height of not less than 2000 feet above sea level; they are the Snow 
Bunting, the Dotterel, and the Ptarmigan. 
The home of the Snow Bunting is in the far north, within the 
Arctic circle, but in winter its area of distribution is considerably 
extended southwards, and it is no uncommon sight at home, in cold 
weather, to meet with small flocks of “ Snowflakes as they are 
called, flitting over the frozen ground. It is only within the last 
few years that the fact, long suspected, has been proved that a few 
of these winter visitors, possibly in increasing numbers, remain behind 
their fellows and breed in some of the least frequented mountains of 
our Scottish Highlands, where their nests, composed of dry grass, 
and lined with deers’ hair and ptarmigans feathers, have been found 
concealed among the debris of fallen rocks and stones. 
The Dotterels come to us in the springtide as birds of passage 
from the south, and, after resting awhile, the great majority pass 
onwards to their normal breeding grounds, the fells of Scandinavia, 
and the great tundras which border the northern seas, but some, like 
the Snow Buntings, stay with us throughout the summer, and nest in 
the months of June and July on high hills in some of the northern 
counties of England and in Scotland, but these, few in number, are 
sparingly scattered over considerable areas of ground not easy of 
access, and being, like all plovers, extremely shy and wary in their 
habits during the period of incubation, they are seldom seen, and 
their nests rarely found. I once had the good fortune to find the 
eggs under curious circumstances. We started one June morning to 
explore a high mountain in Inverness-shire, where it was known that 
a pair or two of Dotterels were in the habit of nesting. After leaving 
the lodge, the keeper called back to his wife to let loose his dog, 
which he had forgotten, and when a fine wavy-coated retriever came 
dashing through the burn, and bounded up the hillside, we little 
knew that to him we should be indebted for the success of our 
expedition, but such was the case. A light mist was clinging to the 
hill tops, which we hoped would disperse as the day progressed, but 
there was no wind, and it became denser, and when, after a stiff 
o 
