vou. uI.] Natural History of the Farallones. 155 
the California guillemot, which was fairly common. It would seem 
from an examination of the dead bird as if the guillemot must be a 
slow and clumsy flier, so small are the wings in proportion to the 
size of the body; but, when once started in the air, they fly with 
great swiftness, their sharply-pointed bodies cleaving the air like a 
spear, and their compact little wings whirring at a great rate. They 
were very tame, and allowed the boat to draw quite close before 
making any attempt to escape. Some would then dive with an . 
impatient jerk, but the majority would start to fly. Apparently not 
having the time nor energy to lift their bodies out of the water, 
they would flap along on the surface, splashing and scuffling ina 
ludicrously frantic manner. Occasionally some peculiarly energetic 
individual would actually lift himself above the sustaining fluid and 
essay to fly, but, apparently blinded in his hurry to escape, would 
plunge directly at the first wave that happened to be slightly higher 
than usual, and literally fall all over himself in the most awkward 
manner imaginable. I noticed that whenever the bird dived the 
wings were thrown out, as if to assist in swimming, instead of being 
folded close to the body, as with most’ diving birds. Later observ- 
ation confirmed the theory that the birds swim under water with 
their wings more than with their legs, for they may frequently be 
seen under water from the Farallon rocks using the wings in this 
manner. Indeed, the form of the wing is curiously analogous to the 
wing of a penguin, being shaped something like a flipper, and very 
stiff and compact. It is, of course, only an analogy, the penguin’s 
wing being scaled, while the character of the guillemot’s wing is 
due to the feathers. It seems not improbable, however, that the 
guillemot is gradually losing the power of flight, just as the great 
auk lost it, in order to gain greater freedom in swimming under 
water. Its difficulty in rising from the water and awkwardness in 
falling back into it would seem to argue in favor of this view, in 
_ Spite of its swift flight in a gale of wind. oe 
In all this digression it must not be forgotten that the wind is 
still blowing and our little craft tumbling about as it approaches the — 
bar in Golden Gate. An occasional Brandt’s cormorant would flap 
past, its long neck stretched far ahead of the clumsy black body, © 
as if trying its best to part company with so slow a companion. As - 
we get a little way out to sea, a large rock, slightly isolated from the . 
_ mainland, is noticed completely whitened with the guano of this 
