_BEGINS TO PUBLISH HIS OBSERVATIONS._
SHORTLY after Edward’s return from Aberdeen, his old and much esteemed
friend, the Rev. James Smith, of the Manse of Monquhitter, situated
about ten miles south-east of Banff, lent him some works on Natural
History. These enabled Edward to ascertain the names of some of the
birds which he discovered in the neighbourhood.
One day, while walking along the sea-coast, Edward shot a Bridled
Guillemot (_Uria lachrymans_),—a bird not before known to frequent the
district. When he informed Mr. Smith of the circumstance, the reverend
gentleman thus wrote to him: “The discovery of the Bridled Guillemot
at Gamrie is very interesting, and affords another confirmation of the
remark that there are many things yet to be found out, almost at our
doors, by those who have a relish for the works of Nature, and who
will make a good use of the faculties which the Almighty has bestowed
upon them. In my own case, I have now almost _no_ opportunity in my
power for prosecuting researches in Natural History out of doors; and,
even if I had, there is so little sympathy for any proceedings of
this nature, that I should to a certainty be regarded, by almost all
my parishioners, as half-mad, or at least as childish, and neglecting
my more serious duties. Still, I always feel a strong interest in the
subject, and in any discovery which is made in regard to it.”
[Sidenote: _EDWARD AND GRAMMAR._]
As Edward had no narrow-minded parishioners to encounter, he went on
with his researches. Mr. Smith strongly encouraged him to persevere. He
also advised him to note down the facts which came under his notice;
and to publish the results of his observations. This surprised Edward.
“Why,” said he, “I cannot write for the publishers.” “You must learn to
write,” said Mr. Smith; “and in order to write correctly you must study
grammar.”
He importuned Edward so much, that at last he said he “had no use
for grammar.” “You cannot write without it,” said Mr. Smith. “But,”
returned Edward, “I have no intention of writing.” “You _must_ write,”
said Mr. Smith. “You must write down all that you learn respecting the
objects you are collecting. It is a duty that you owe to society, and
it will be very selfish on your part if you do not publish the results
of your observations.”
After about half-an-hour’s arguing, Edward asked, “How long do you
think it would take me to learn grammar?” “Well,” said Mr. Smith, “I do
not think you would take very long to learn it. But,” he added, “you
will require to relinquish your out-door pursuits during that time.”
“If that be the case, Mr. Smith, I am afraid that I cannot become a
pupil. But, if I have any time left after I have done with Nature, then
perhaps I may begin to study grammar; but not till then.”
[Sidenote: _EDWARD’S SCRAPS._]
Mr. Smith’s advice, however, was not without its good results. Edward
_did_ begin to note down his observations about natural objects, and he
published them from time to time in the local paper, the _Banffshire
Journal_. When the present author asked for a sight of the articles,
Edward replied, “I think I could supply you with scraps of a good
number, although, on looking over my stock, I find that a great many
have disappeared. My family and friends have dealt very freely with
them. In fact, they were found good for ‘kinlin’.[38] The most of what
I wrote in the local papers is lost, for ever lost.”
[Sidenote: _THE DEATH’S-HEAD MOTH._]
Among the articles which he was able to collect, we find descriptions
of rare moths, rare birds, and rare fishes. Perhaps one of the first
articles which he published, was a description of a “Death’s-head Moth”
found in the parish of Ruthven—one of the most wonderful, as it is one
of the most extraordinary of insects.
“In its caterpillar state,” says Edward, “it has the power of making a
pretty loud snapping-like noise, which has been compared by some to a
series of electric sparks. The chrysalis squeaks, but more particularly
when about to change. And, as to the perfect insect itself, it is
gifted with a voice which it has the power of modulating at pleasure,
being sometimes of a plaintive nature, then mournful, then like the
moaning of a child, then again like the squeaking of a mouse. This,
together with the fact that it carries on a portion of its back,—that
part called the thorax,—an impression of the front view of a human
skull (hence its name of Death’s-head), has made it an object of the
greatest terror and dislike amongst the ignorant and superstitious.
It is looked upon, not as the handiwork of the Almighty, but as the
agent of evil spirits. The very shining of its large bright eyes, which
sparkle like diamonds, is believed to represent the fiery element from
which it is supposed to have sprung. On one occasion these insects
appeared in great abundance in various districts of Bretagne, and
produced great trepidation among the inhabitants, who considered them
to be the forerunners, and even the causes, of epidemic diseases and
other calamities. In the Isle of France it is believed that any down or
dust from their wings falling on the eyes causes immediate blindness.
All this is, of course, merely the result of superstitious prejudice.
[Sidenote: _BUTTERFLIES AND LOCUSTS._]
“The Death’s-head is said to be the largest moth we have, and is, in
fact, the largest found inhabiting Europe, save the Peacock moth. Be
this as it may, it is a very large insect, measuring from five to six
inches across the wings, and having a body proportionately long and
thick. The caterpillar, which is smooth, and of a greenish-yellow,
with minute black dots all over, and with seven or eight bluish
stripes on the sides, having a horn above the tail, is likewise very
large,—being, when full grown, about six inches long. It feeds on the
potato, the deadly-nightshade, the jasmine, and the _Lycium barbarum_,
and other plants of as dissimilar a nature.”
In another article he mentioned the Herald Moth (_Scaliopteryx
libatrix_), a specimen of which was presented to him by Mrs. G.
Bannerman. He describes this beautiful insect as occurring in great
profusion in some of the southern parts of England, but as very rare
in the north. It is called the “Herald” moth, because it is said to
indicate the approach of winter.
[Sidenote: _LOCUSTA MIGRATORIA._]
The Peacock Butterfly (_Papilio Io_), was caught in Duff House garden,
close to Banff. Although common in England, this butterfly is very rare
in Scotland. Morris makes no mention of its ever having been seen in
the north. A great flock of these butterflies passed over a part of
Switzerland in 1828, when they were described as a swarm of locusts.
This circumstance led Edward to insert some observations regarding that
destructive insect, the _Locusta migratoria_, which passed over this
country in the year 1846, the ever-memorable potato-famine year.
“Great numbers,” he says, “were found in the counties of Aberdeen,
Banff, and Moray. Several were also got in the sea at Aberdeen, as
well as near Banff. Some of those found were very large, being two
and a half inches long, and nearly as thick as one’s little finger;
their wings expanding to about four inches in breadth. Nine of this
size were found by one individual in a turnip-field at the Stocket,
near Aberdeen. They were brought to me while I was there with my
first unfortunate Collection. But, large though this may seem, it
is nothing to others. We are told that in India there are locusts
of a yard in length. I do not vouch for the fact; it is no story of
mine. Pliny tells it; and from him we have it. Some found in the sea
at Aberdeen were offered there for sale as ‘fleein’ fish,’ and no
less a sum than ten shillings was sought for them. Strange sort of
flying-fish this! Truly it may have been said that the entomological
and ichthyological schoolmasters were both abroad in those days. It
may, however, be remarked, that something of a similar kind took place
amongst ourselves not very long ago, so that we have little room to
laugh at the Aberdonians. A person having picked up a _galerite_ (a
species of fossilised sea-urchin of the Cretaceous system), near by our
harbour, was showing it to some individuals, when one of them, no doubt
puzzled, said, ‘O! it’s just something that _somebody has made_.’ But
to return to the locusts. Those of which we have been speaking arrived
in the month of August and the beginning of September. Now, this year
it would appear that something of the same kind had taken place, as
numbers have been picked up in various parts of the country. Three
have, at least, been found with us, viz. two near the Moss of Banff,
and one at Cornhill; another at Mintlaw, Aberdeenshire. I have also
one from Lerwick, where it is said they have been rather plentiful in
the corn-fields; as also in the Zetland Islands, in Unst, and the rest
of the bare and isolated Skerries. In some of the Western Isles, I
believe, they have actually proved a complete pest.
[Sidenote: _THEIR DESTRUCTIVE POWER._]
“As may be expected, there are many species of this creature, as there
are of everything else: but those here alluded to are perhaps the
most redoubtable of them all, as being the most destructive, the best
known from their migratorial flights, and being, as already hinted,
the species that constituted one of the awful plagues of Egypt in the
days of Moses. They were doubtless the same that wasted the land of
Canaan, and caused such a terrible famine, of which we read in the book
of Joel. A wind drove them into the sea; their dead bodies were again
cast on shore in such heaps that the Hebrews were obliged to dig large
pits in which to bury them. In this country, we have about twenty-five
different kinds belonging to the same family, of which the foregoing
is one; but of course they are all of small size, and therefore may be
said to be comparatively harmless.”
[Sidenote: _SAW-FLIES._]
In another article, Edward mentions another insect almost equally
destructive. A friend of Edward at Turriff found four _Saw-flies_
in a piece of a fir tree that was being cut up for firewood. They
are called _Saw-flies_ “from the fact that the female possesses,
posteriorly, an instrument by which she perforates, or rather saws,
holes in trees, into which she drops her eggs. From this it will be
seen that the larvæ are woodfeeders. In this country they are by no
means numerous, and it is well that they are not, or our forests
would shortly disappear; for, in places where they abound, such as in
Norway, they destroy hundreds of thousands of trees in a season. It
is only the growing and not the dead wood that they attack. The young
grubs, as soon as they emerge from the egg, cut their way right into
the very heart of the solid timber, and there they gnaw and bore in
every possible direction. By this means, the tree is either killed,
or so injured, that ultimately it pines and dies. The fly itself has
no English name, but is known to entomologists by the term of _Sirex
juvencus_.”
[Sidenote: _THE PATIENT SPIDER._]
In another article, Edward mentions the fact of a Spider (_Aranea
domestica_) having lived in one of his sealed-up cases for twelve
months without food. He had before written to his reverend friend
on the subject, but Mr. Smith informed him that he had no books on
Entomology, and could give him no information. Edward says of his
spider, that after the case had been sealed up, he saw him walking over
the birds contained there, until at last he became stationary in one of
the corners. “Towards noon of the second day of his incarceration, he
commenced operations, and by breakfast time of the day following, his
web was completed. The little artizan was then observed to walk slowly
and very sedately all over the newly formed fabric, seemingly with the
view of ascertaining if all was secure. This done, the aperture was
next examined, and with more apparent care than was bestowed upon the
rest of the structure. This wonderful mechanical contrivance,—which
serves at least the fourfold purpose of storehouse, banqueting hall,
watch tower, and asylum in times of danger,—being found all right, the
artificer then took up his station, within it, no doubt to await the
success of the net which he had spread, and from whence, had fortune
proved kind, he would boldly have rushed out to secure his struggling
prey. There was, however, no fly to be caught within the case. He was
the only living thing in it; and there the patient creature remained
without food, for the space of more than twelve months.”[39]
[Sidenote: _NOTES ON NATURAL HISTORY._]
The notices on Natural History which appeared from time to time in the
local journal, had the effect of directing general attention to the
observation of natural objects; and numerous birds, fishes, insects,
caterpillars, shells, and plants, were sent to Edward for examination.
In one of his notes he mentions a Cinereous Shearwater (_Puffinus
cinereus_) found on the beach near Portsoy. This led him to give a
very vivid account of the Stormy Petrel. Another of the specimens sent
to him was a _Dyphalcanthus longispinus_, from the fossil diggings of
Gamrie. “How strange!” he says. “Here we have an animal, or perhaps
I should rather say a stone, part of which had once been a creature
enjoying life,—but now how changed! How long is it since it lived,
died, and became thus transformed? Years ago, nay ages, many ages, long
anterior to the creation of man. How wonderful, and yet how true!”
Of another specimen he says—
“Here, again, is a black, pink, yellow, and brown creature, with crests
and ornaments like a duchess—just, in fact, like a lady of the olden
time, dressed up and decorated for a ball, with her head stuck full
of feathers, her ribbons flying, and fan in hand; in other words, a
caterpillar of the Vapourer Moth found in a garden at Buckie.
“And lastly, though not least, a specimen of the Mountain Bladder
fern (_Cystopteris montana_), found on Benrinnes by a gentleman from
England, and sent to me as a rarity. It was only in 1836 that this fern
was made known as British, having then been for the first time met with
by a party of naturalists on Ben Lawers. Since that time, however,
it has been found in a ravine between Glen Dochart and Glen Lochy,
Perthshire. It is also found on the mountains of North Wales, on the
Alps, and on the Rocky Mountains of North America.”
[Sidenote: _RARE BIRDS._]
Many rare birds were sent to him for examination, notices of which he
recorded in the local paper. Thus, he obtained the Little Crake (_Crex
pusilla_), a bird that had not before been found in the neighbourhood,
from a land-surveyor at Whitehills. The Mountain Finch (_Fringilla
montifringilla_) was sent to him from Macduff, where it had been driven
ashore during a recent storm. A Greater Shrike or Butcher bird (_Lanius
excubitor_)—a bird that had not before been found in Scotland,—was
found dead at Drummuir Castle, and sent to him for preservation.
The Spoonbill (_Platalea leucorodia_) and Bee-eater (_Merops
apiaster_)—very rare birds—were also found at Boyndie.
Of the latter bird, Edward says, “This is a splendid bird, as rare as
the last, if not more so. If we except the breast, which is of a bright
yellow, encircled by a black ring, and some other orange and brown
scattered here and there, it may be said to be of a beautiful verdigris
green. The two middle tail feathers are about an inch longer than the
others. The bill is longish and pointed. Though termed bee-eaters, they
also feed on beetles, gnats, grasshoppers, and flies, etc. The most
of these they capture on the wing, somewhat after the fashion of the
Goatsucker and Swallow. Although a scarce bird with us, they are common
in their native countries. In Asia Minor and the adjacent lands to the
north, and in Northern Africa, they are said to be so abundant as to be
seen flying about in thousands.”
[Sidenote: _ACCURATE OBSERVERS WANTED._]
Among the rarer birds found in the district, were the Bohemian Waxwing
or Chatterer (_Bombycilla garrula_), whose native home is Bohemia,—the
Black Redstart (_Phœnicurus Tithys_), a bird that had never before
been met with in Scotland. Edward, in describing this bird, says, “It
is quite possible that it may have visited the country before; but
from the neglect, or rather contempt, with which natural science is
regarded in this part of the country, it may have visited us, and even
bred amongst us, unknown and unrecorded. There is plenty of work among
us for Naturalists. A great deal has yet to be learnt regarding the
various branches of natural science. There is nothing better calculated
for the purpose than _attentive and accurate local observers_.”
On one occasion, when out shooting on the sands west of Banff, Edward
brought down a very rare bird. It was a brown snipe (_Macroramphus
griseus_), a bird well known in North America, but not in Britain. Here
is Edward’s story:—
[Sidenote: _A STRANGE BIRD OBSERVED._]
“Taking a stroll the other day to the west of the town, with my gun in
hand, to get the air, I crossed the sands at the Links, and looking
along them I observed a pretty large group of my old and long-loved
favourites—birds. Wishing, instinctively as it were, to know what they
were, I went cautiously forward to take a nearer view. I found that
they consisted for the most part of ring-dotterels and dunlins, with a
few golden plovers. I was somewhat astonished at seeing the plovers,
for they are by no means a shore bird with us at this season of the
year,—nor, in fact, at any time, except when driven by snow. But there
they were, and no mistake. Not yet satisfied, however,—for I thought
I could distinguish one that did not exactly belong to any of those
already mentioned,—I wished to go a little nearer, and on doing so was
glad to find my conjectures fully confirmed; but what the stranger
was I could not tell. I saw enough, however, to convince me that it
was a rare bird. There is no getting an easy shot at a stranger.
The dotterels are constantly on the out-look for squalls, and when
anything suspicious appears, they immediately rise and fly away. A
shot, however, after a good deal of winding and twisting, was fired,
and although at rather long range, broke one of the stranger’s legs.
This had the effect of parting him from his companions,—they flying
seawards, and he to the shingle which intervenes betwixt the sands and
the Links. Here he dropped, seemingly to rise no more.
[Sidenote: _A BROWN SNIPE._]
“Having reloaded in case of need, I then ran, as well as I was able,
to pick him up. I gained the place, and after some difficulty, having
passed and repassed him several times, I at last found my bird lying
stretched out at full length amongst the pebbles, and to all appearance
a corpse. It was now that I ascertained with satisfaction and pride,
that the great rarity I had met with was neither more nor less than
a specimen of the Brown Snipe, and a splendid one it was too, being
evidently an old bird. Being almost intoxicated with delight, I sat
down, and having taken some cotton wadding from my pocket to wrap
round the injured leg, and stop up any other wound that he might have
received, I took him up for that purpose. But, alas! there is many a
slip between the cup and the lip.
[Sidenote: _THE SNIPE ESCAPES._]
“Away flew the bird just as I was about to lay him on my knee; he
actually slipped out from amongst my very fingers. I fired both barrels
as soon as I could get a hold of my gun, sitting though I was. But
on the bird went, whistling as he flew, despite the dangling of his
shattered limb, but whether in derision at my stupidity, or exulting in
his own miraculous and fortunate escape, I cannot tell. Reaching the
burn mouth of Boyndie, he again alighted amongst the tumbling waves
there. It was now gloaming, and what between one thing or other, I
was rather like an aspen leaf than anything else. Follow, however, I
did; I searched the place, and was just on the eve of giving up the
pursuit as hopeless—having, as I thought, beat the ground over and
over again to no purpose,—when up rose the bird from amongst my very
feet. Both barrels were again emptied, but with little apparent effect.
The last one made him scream somewhat harshly, and falter a little in
his flight, but that was all. On he sped. Darkness now put an end to
any further operations for that day. Next day, however, and for many
days after, I was out, but, although I searched the coast as far as
the sands of Whitehills on the one side, and the burn of Melrose on
the other, I could find no traces of the bird. And thus I lost perhaps
one of the greatest ornithological rarities that has ever visited the
district.”
One of the most vivid descriptions which Edward inserted in the
_Banffshire Journal_, was a narrative of a day’s adventures on Gamrie
Head. The editor, in introducing it to his readers, said that it reads
not unlike a chapter of Audubon or Wilson. The reader will judge for
himself:—
[Sidenote: _EXCURSION TO GAMRIE._]
“Having promised to visit some friends in Gardenstown to partake of
their hospitality during the festive season of the New Year, I left
home with that object on the morning of the 31st of December 1850.
I passed through Macduff, and took the path which leads along the
cliffs, hoping thereby to meet with something rare or strange in the
ornithological world, and worthy of my shot. In this way I had nearly
reached the highest point of Gamrie Head without meeting with anything
but the common tenants of these rocky braes, when my attention was
attracted by the screaming of a number of birds at the bottom of the
cliff. On looking over I observed that they consisted of several hooded
and carrion crows, together with two ravens, two Iceland gulls (_Laurus
Islandicus_), and a number of other dark-coloured gulls, apparently
immature specimens of the great black-backed species, one of which,
in perfect plumage, was standing and picking at an object floating
in the water close to the rock, and about which all the other birds
were screaming. It appeared to me, and it afterwards proved to be the
case, that they were making food of the object about which they were
fighting; but the black-backed bird kept them all at bay, allowing none
to approach, not even the ravens themselves.
[Illustration: GAMRIE HEAD.]
[Sidenote: _A FOX’S LAIR._]
“Having feasted my eyes for a while on the Icelanders, the thought
struck me that I would descend the cliff in order to procure one of
them if possible, and also to get a nearer view of the object which
had drawn the various birds together. Accordingly, observing a narrow
track near me, I commenced my descent, but I had only proceeded a
short distance when I found myself on the brink of a precipice. I was
about to return, when, accidentally looking over, I observed a portion
of the rock jutting out a little beyond the one on which I stood,
and about four feet and a half below it. I now concluded that, if
I could gain this rock, I would still find the path to enable me to
continue downwards. With these hopes, and having laid down my gun, I
swung myself down upon the rock. I had no sooner done so, than I heard
a low growl, as if proceeding from a rabid dog; and on looking along
the rock, I was a good deal surprised at seeing two foxes standing in
a rather slouching attitude at the other end of the shelf, apparently
very much discomfited at my unwarrantable intrusion.
“Another look at the place and its surly occupants was enough to
convince me of the unmistakable truth that, instead of having met with
a path leading to the bottom of the cliffs, I had only found one to
a fox’s lair. My first impulse was to ascend the rocks, but in this
I was completely baffled. The brow of the cliff to which I wished to
ascend, was fully as high as my breast, and overhung the rock on which
I stood. I had nothing of the nature of a step to put my foot on to aid
myself up, and nothing to lay hold of with my hands but small tufts
of withered grass and some small stones, all of which gave way so
soon as any stress was put upon them. The last and the only remaining
object within my reach was a stone about twice as large as my head,
and partially embedded amongst the grass. I took hold of the big stone
with both hands, and succeeded in drawing myself about half-way up when
it suddenly gave way. The stone came into collision with my right
shoulder, and would in all likelihood have borne me along with it to
the bottom of the cliff, had it not been that at that instant I got
hold of a short tuft of heath with my mouth, by the aid of which, and
by using my fingers as a beast would its claws, I was enabled to regain
my former position.
[Sidenote: _DRIVES OUT THE FOXES._]
“It was now quite evident that I would require to descend the cliff by
some means or other, but how? That was a matter for deep consideration.
I was standing on the brink of a precipice,—had two cunning fellows to
deal with,—had to hold on, at least with one hand, to the rock above in
order to maintain my equilibrium,—and had to keep a steady eye on my
companions for fear lest they should rush at me and throw me over the
cliff.
“Such being the case, was I not in a pretty fix? If there were any
means of escape, it was from the point near which the foxes were. But
how could I dislodge them to get at that point? The space on which
we stood was only from about two feet and a half to one foot broad,
and about nine feet long, projecting to some distance over the cliff
beneath. To have shot them, and rid myself of their presence in that
fashion, was, from my position, utterly impossible.
“At length a thought struck me, and with the view of putting it in
execution, I laid down my gun close to the back of the shelving, out
of harm’s way; then crouching down with my feet towards my shaggy
friends, who kept up a constant chattering of their teeth during the
whole time, and pushing myself backwards until I reached the nearest, I
gave him a kick with my foot on the hind quarters, which produced the
desired effect; for I had no sooner done so, than I felt first the feet
of one and then of the other passing lightly along my back, and before
I had time to lift up my head, they had bolted up the precipice and
disappeared.
[Sidenote: _OVERLOOKING THE PRECIPICE._]
“I was now master of the place, though not of the situation. On
looking over the cliff, I found that there was no way of getting down
but by leaping into a crevice of the rocks, more than eight feet
beneath me, and in a slanting direction from where I was. This was a
doleful discovery, but there was no help now; so, taking off my coat,
shot-belt, and powder-flask, that I might be so much the lighter, and
have the free use of my arms, I threw them down to the bottom of the
rock. I next bound the gun to my back, having previously emptied it
of its contents. I then crawled over the edge of the rock, and hung
dangling in the air for a little, like the pendulum of a clock. I would
have given all that I ever possessed in the world to have been again in
the foxes’ den, stinking though it was. For then, and not till then,
did I discover, to my sorrow, that a rugged portion of a rock projected
over the entrance to the aperture to which I wished to descend,
and that, in leaping, I would require to go beyond it in order to
reach the landing underneath. To accomplish such a feat seemed to me
impossible.
[Sidenote: _MAKES THE LEAP._]
“I hung thus, being afraid to make the leap, though up I could not get,
until my hands began to give way; when, mustering all my remaining
strength, and having taken the last swing with some force, I let go
my hold to abide by the dreadful alternative,—for I had little hope
of gaining the desired haven. Most fortunately, however, I did gain
it, but, in doing so, I received a severe blow on the left temple from
the rock I had so much dreaded. I also lost my cap, which fell off
when my head struck the rock. From this cavity or chink, which was the
worst that I ever had to deal with, I managed,—by leaping and swinging
from one rocky shelf and cavity to another, and by crawling from crag
to crag, alternately, as circumstances required it,—to reach a huge
stone, which evidently had once formed a part of the higher portion
of the cliff, but had, at a bygone period, by some means or other,
become detached from it, and on rolling down had found a temporary
resting-place there.
“Beyond this stone, I found my leaping was at an end, for I had
now arrived at the top of a rather rough and almost perpendicular
declivity, fully fifty feet from the bottom, and bounded on both sides
by steep and overhanging cliffs. Before me was the sea, behind and
above me was an insurmountable barrier of 300 feet of cliff. Although
I had descended thus far, there was no human possibility of my being
able to re-ascend by the same path. In such a place—alone, and almost
powerless—bruised and nearly worn out with exertion—what could I do?
Throw myself down, and meet my fate at once, or wait till help should
arrive? But where was help to come from? Two boats had already passed
from Gardenstown, both of which I hailed, but they sailed along on
their way. Perhaps they were too far out at sea to hear my cries, or to
notice my signals of distress.
[Sidenote: _THE PEREGRINE FALCON._]
“Despairing of success, I sat down to consider what was next to be
done. While thus resting, I observed a falcon (_Falco peregrinus_)
sailing slowly and steadily along, bearing something large in his
talons. On he came, seemingly unconscious of my presence, and alighted
on a ledge only a few yards from where I sat. I now saw that the object
he carried was a partridge. Having fairly settled down with his quarry
on the rock, I could not help wondering at and admiring the collected
ease and cool composure with which he held his struggling captive (for
it was still alive) until death put an end to its sufferings. There was
no lacerating with his beak at the body of the poor and unfortunate
prisoner, in order, as it were, to hasten its termination; no expanding
of the wing to maintain his equilibrium; although the last and dying
struggle of the bird caused him to quiver a little.
[Sidenote: _DEVOURS THE PARTRIDGE._]
“All being now over, with one foot resting upon his game, and the
other on the rock, silent and motionless as a statue, the noble captor
stood, with an inquiring eye gazing at the now lifeless form of his
reeking prey, seeming to doubt the fact that it was already dead. But
there was no mistake. The blood, oozing from its mouth and wounds,
its body doubtless pierced by the talons of the conqueror, already
began to trickle down the sides of the dark cliffs, dyeing the rocks
in its course. Satisfied at last that life was fairly extinct, an
incision was then made in the neck or shoulder of the victim, and into
this the falcon thrust his bill several times, and each time that it
was withdrawn it was covered with blood. This being done, and having
wrenched off the head, which he dropped, he then began not only to
pluck but to skin his food, from the neck downwards; and, having bared
the breast, commenced a hearty meal by separating the flesh from the
sternum into portions, with as much apparent ease as if he had been
operating with the sharpest surgical instrument. I should have liked
well to have seen the end of the work thus begun; but unfortunately,
a slight movement on my part was detected by the quick eye of the
falcon, and my nearness was discovered. Having gazed at me for a few,
and only for a few seconds, with an angry and piercing scowl, mingled
with surprise, he then rose, uttering a scream so wild and so loud as
to awaken the echoes of the surrounding rocks; whilst he himself, with
the remains of his feast, which he bore along with him, rounded a point
of the cliff and disappeared; and there is no doubt that he ended his
repast in unmolested security.
[Sidenote: _FLIGHT OF THE FALCON._]
“I was glad, nay proud, of this unlooked-for occurrence, as I had never
before, on any occasion, had the pleasure of witnessing any of those
noble birds in a state of nature, or while engaged in devouring their
prey, and that too amongst the rugged fastnesses of their natural
retreat. In consequence of having paid particular attention to the
movements of the falcon, I was enabled to bring to maturity an opinion,
the seeds of which were sown many years ago—viz. that, if painters,
engravers, and preservers of animals, would endeavour to get lessons
from nature, and work accordingly, the public would not be so often
duped as they are, by having to pay for false representations and
caricatured figures, instead of the genuine forms of these noble birds.
[Sidenote: _SLIDES DOWN THE ROCKS._]
“The falcon had no sooner fled, than the reality of my own situation
again burst upon my mind. I had as little prospect of relief from
passers-by as ever; and, becoming a prey to evil forebodings, I felt
cold and sick at heart. It was now afternoon, and daylight would soon
be on the wane. I had no time to lose, for it was necessary that
something should be done to extricate myself, if possible, before dark.
The only way of doing so was by sliding down the declivity, be the
consequences what they might. Accordingly, I unloosed the gun from its
place on my back, and having taken my garters, which were very long,
from my legs, I tied them together, then attached one end of them to
the gun, and holding the other end in my hand, I dropped it as far as
the string would allow, and then letting go, I heard the gun clash to
the bottom. I next took the two napkins, which had bound the gun to
my back, and wound them round my head, in order to save it as much as
possible from the edges of the rocks. I then stretched myself upon the
rocky slope, with my feet downwards, and was ready for the descent,
when, repenting, I would again have drawn myself up. But the scanty
herbage which I held by gave way, and I was hurled down, whether I
would or no, and with such violence that, on landing amongst the rocks,
I became quite unconscious.
“On recovering, I found myself lying at the foot of the cliff, sick
and very sore. I found that I had bled profusely from the nose and one
of my ears. My first impulse, on recovering, was to move my limbs to
ascertain if any of them were broken, when, to my inexpressible joy and
thankfulness, I found them whole, though somewhat benumbed. Becoming
thirsty, and observing a pool of water at a short distance, I attempted
to rise, but my spine pained me so much that I was obliged to lie
down again, without being able to reach the desired spot. The thirst
increasing, I dragged myself to the water. I thrust my mouth into it,
and had partaken of a draught before I discovered that, instead of
fresh, I had swallowed _salt water_!
[Sidenote: _LOADS HIS GUN._]
“If I was ill before, I was worse now. Having sickened and vomited
again, I revived a little, and after I had washed the blood from my
face and head, I was enabled to sit up with my back against a rock.
Whilst thus seated, I observed all the articles which had been dropped,
except my cap, which, however, I afterwards found. After sitting for
about half-an-hour, I made another attempt to rise, and succeeded,
though I reeled about like a drunken fellow, and could scarcely stand
steady without the aid of my gun, which I found was not so much bruised
as I had expected. Having again assumed my coat and other appendages, I
then endeavoured to load my gun with the view of procuring one of the
Icelanders which I had seen from the top of the cliff. This, however,
proved a very difficult matter; and when I had loaded the gun I found
to my disappointment that I could not bring it to bear upon the object.
I made the attempt several times, but was at last obliged to abandon
the hope I had entertained of obtaining either of the birds.
[Sidenote: _THE SPINOUS SHARK._]
“I was vexed at this, for both came several times within easy shot.
All my hopes of procuring the birds being at an end, I then proceeded
to view the object in the water round which the birds were hovering,
and I was surprised to find it to be the carcase of an animal of a
very singular appearance. It was not until I had looked at it for some
time that I could bring my memory to bear upon it. I then thought, and
I have since been fully confirmed in the opinion, that I discovered
in it a specimen, or rather the putrid remains, of the Spinous Shark.
It wanted the head, which had been broken off by the fish having
been dashed against the rocks by the waves. The tail was also broken
off, but still hung by a filament to the body. In shape it somewhat
resembled the tail of the common dog-fish, but there evidently had
been two fins on the back, nearer to the posterior than the anterior
portion of the animal, though these had been broken or rubbed off. The
skin, which was of a dark blue colour, and had a leathery appearance,
was thickly beset with curved thorns or spines (whence the animal’s
name), nearly all of which were more or less damaged. I know of
nothing that I could liken these thorns or spikes to, but the thorns
or spikes which may be seen on the stem of an old rose bush,—with this
exception, that the spikes of the fish are larger. From its position in
the water, though close to the rocks, I could not make out its girth
in any part whatever; but, from where the head had joined the body to
the tip of the tail, it was about two yards in length. Having fully
satisfied myself that the present specimen, from its decomposed state
and the holes perforated in it by the gulls, was beyond the state for
preservation, I again left it, that the impatient birds might once
more descend and recommence their banquet.
[Sidenote: _RETURNS HOME._]
“I now wished to get to a sandy beach, at some distance to my left,
known as Greenside, from which I knew that a path led to the top of the
cliff. On my way thither, I met with a very serious obstacle in the
form of a huge rock, whose base extended into the sea; and, as a matter
of course, as I could not get round it, I required to get over it. I
was then far from being in a condition to climb a rock. However, I had
no alternative. The tide, then about to come in, would have shown me
no mercy. Accordingly, my gun was once more on my back, and on hands
and knees, for feet here were of no use, and with the aid of my mouth,
I succeeded in crawling over, and, with some further difficulty, I
contrived to reach Greenside. Instead of holding on to Gardenstown,
I turned my face towards home, where I arrived betwixt five and six
in the evening,—with the impression of the last day of 1850 so deeply
stamped upon my body and mind, that it will not easily, if ever, be
obliterated from either.”
FOOTNOTES:
[38] Kindling fires.
[39] “The superstitious notion, that a spider shut up without food for
a year is transformed into a diamond, has probably cost many of these
insects their lives; and if the eradication of ancient prejudices be as
serviceable to science as the discovery of new truths, the poor spiders
may console themselves with the honour of martyrdom as justly as the
innumerable frogs, who betrayed, amid their tortures, the mystery of
galvanism. In this, as in other things, people have obtained a very
different and perhaps more important result than they had expected. It
appears that though spiders do not turn to diamonds, they can live a
long time without food. An insect of this species, inclosed in a box
for this rational purpose, was found alive after the poor sufferer had
been forgotten for five years.”—_Ackermann’s Repository_, January 1815.