196 TRANSACTIONS—PERTHSHIRE SOCIETY OF NATURAL SCIENCE. 
feathers. VVe concealed ourselves as best we could under cover of 
some fallen rocks, and ate our lunch, hoping that the eagles would 
come and feed their young, whose movements in the nest we heard, 
but the traditional eagle’s eye had been on us, and we waited in vain. 
One shoulder of the mountain still remained unexplored, and we 
climbed up again to resume our search for the Ptarmigan’s nest, though 
with little hope after the morning’s experience, but success came at last, 
and in one of our beats we discovered a bird sitting at our feet. 
Had we walked a yard or two to the right or left, we should have 
passed by "without seeing her, her golden colour so closely resembled 
a piece of yellow moss. She remained immovable, with neck 
gracefully curved; her head was turned tow'ards us with a look of 
sui prised curiosity, she for had probably never seen a human being 
before. We stooped down to stroke her back, and on touching her 
she flew off, showing a good deal of white on the wings. There were 
seven eggs in the nest, which was a hollow in the ground between 
two ^stones, lined with a little dry grass, and a few feathers from the 
bird’s own breast. The eggs are smaller than those of the red 
grouse, and fainter in colour. This was the only Ptarmigan we saw 
in our search of many hours ; doubtless we had passed others, but, 
by remaining motionless, they escaped notice. The males are grayer 
in their plumage than the females at this time of the year, and would 
be on the stones, while the latter were brooding on the moss-covered 
ground. 
We walked homewards more than ever impressed with the 
loneliness of the mountain tops. Since we had left the glen no 
sound had fallen upon our ears, except the scream of the eagles and 
the wailing cry of a red-throated diver, which floated upwards from 
a distant tain. No doubt, in a wild corrie well-known to us, on the 
other side of the mountain on which we walked, a Snow Bunting in 
full beauty of wedding dress was singing a soft love song, but the no^es, 
drifting away on the breeze, were unheard except by his mate who 
^\^s busily employed preparing her nest among the stones. How 
different it is in other places where birds resort at this time of year! 
The woodlands are now filled with melody; among the haunts of men 
the trill of the blackbird’s song mingles with children’s voices, and 
with the sound of hammer and anvil in the village forge; and on 
the rocky shores myriads of seafowl sit together on the cliff ledges 
and scream and croon in chorus to the raging surf, but Nature mves 
the keynote to all her creatures. The bursting of new-born leaves 
and flowers encourages the enthusiasm of joyous song, the wild 
cries of sea-birds suit the restlessness of ocean waves,^ while the 
solemn grandeur of the strong mountains seems to impose a silence 
which the few sounds that break it only serve to intensify. 
