The Mallard, the Widgeon, the Teal, the Garganey, the Pintail, the Ferruginous, the Harlequin, the Shoveler, the Shieldrake, and the Eider Duck, visit the loch occasionally in winter. The ducks were ten times more numerous than the geese. There were the Scaup (_Fuligula marila_), the Tufted (_F. cristata_), the Red-headed Pochard or Dunbird (_F. ferina_), and the Golden-eyed Garrot (_Clangula garrotta_). The Red-necked Grebe and the Black-chinned Grebe also bred in the loch. Herons, Bitterns, Spoon-bills, Glossy Ibises, Snipes, Woodcocks, Green Sandpipers, Ruffs, Dotterels, Gray Phalaropes, were also to be seen. These were the birds that mostly frequented the loch in winter. There were numerous flocks of Gulls of various species, and other shore-birds, which only made visits to the loch for shelter during storms.
When spring approached the birds became restless. The flocks began to break up, and flights of birds disappeared daily. At length the greater part of the winter birds left, except a few stragglers. An entirely different set of birds now began to make their appearance. You could now hear the shrill whistle of the Redshank, the bright carol of the Lark, the wire-like call of the Dunlin, the melancholy note of the Wagtail, the boom of the Snipe, and the pleasant peewit of the Lapwing. There were also the Black-headed Bunting, the Ring Dotterel, the Wheatear, the Meadow Pipit, the Reed Warbler, the Rose Linnet, the Twite, the Red-shank, the Black-headed Gull, and the Arctic Tern, which bred in suitable localities round the loch. Among the remaining birds, were several specimens of the Skua, Coots, Water-hens, Swifts, and several kinds of Swallows. The Whimbrel, Greenshank, Water-Rail, Pied Wagtail, Roseate Tern, and Water Ouzel, also frequented the neighbourhood of the loch, but did not breed there.
In an account of “The Birds of Strathbeg,” which Edward afterwards published in the _Naturalist_, he mentioned the curious manner in which the Ring Dotterel contrives to divert attention from her nest.
While strolling along the sands in the month of July, a friend who was with him fired at a Tern. Without knowing what he had fired at, Edward saw a Ring Dotterel before him, which, he thought, must be the bird. It was lame, and dragging its wing behind it as if it had been sorely wounded. It lay down, as if dead. Edward came up, and put his hand down to secure it. The bird rose and flew away. Then it dropped again, hobbled and tottered about, as if inviting him to pursue it:—“I stood a few seconds,” says Edward, “considering whether I would follow or not; then off I started, determined to have it. Away went the bird, twiddling and straddling, and away I followed in hot pursuit. Round and round the sand hillocks we scrambled until I was perfectly wearied. Nothing but the novelty of the affair could have kept me in pursuit of the wounded bird.