NOTES OM THE BIRDS OF lONA, 237 



(it requires a couple of them to make it good;) and then I defy the Court 

 of Common Council, or a jury of aldermen to detect the difference between 

 it and the finest hare soup. A Ourrie does indifferently well; and the liver, 

 which is of a large size, is as good as a Goose's. Having decided the gas- 

 tronomic value of our friend, let us consider the ways and means of obtaining 

 a few individuals to garnish our larder withal. 



In winter, especially when stormy, we shall see them fishing at half tide, 

 close along the rocks, and in the shallow sandy bays. They are wary, and 

 diving they take care to get a good oifing if they see the least danger; but 

 it is nice practice to stalk one, running from one hiding-place to another 

 while the bird is below water, till we succeed in attaining a rock that is 

 within reach of him. As he emerges from the water, he turns about his 

 head in search of anything suspicious, and carefully examines the shore before 

 he will dive again, lest it conceals a lurking foe. But, in good weather, it 

 is more amusing to follow our game upon its own element. We should 

 approach the swimming bird to windward, for he prefers rising against the 

 wind, and in calm weather, if well gorged with fish, he cannot rise without 

 the help of the breeze under his wings. When he sees his retreat cut off 

 in this direction, he swims, about in evident perplexity, and often allows the 

 boat to come within fatal distance. 



Their quickness in knowing their enemies is very amusing; a heavy lumbering 

 fishing-boat is allowed to pass close by, while the quiet insidious approach of 

 the small gun- bearing skiff is suspected and fled from. At first they take 

 short dives, but, if thoroughly alarmed, they begin racing, that is, diving and 

 swimming determinedly away. It is then almost useless to attempt to over- 

 take them. 



When a bird sees it is no longer pursued, after rising to the surface, he 

 flaps his wings, then expands them for a moment till he feels the breeze, and 

 with laborious strokes rises off the water. These, as well as other sea birds, 

 always try to cross the bows of a boat coming under sail, to get to windward; 

 and p^enerally escape by getting the weathergage, either by the boat being 

 unable to get up to them, or at worst they can readily take flight up the 

 wind as soon as they choose when the danger becomes pressing. 



There are certain rocks very much frequented by the Cormorant, to rest 

 upon and bask in the sun, often with wings spread, hanging out to dry. 

 There they often sit motionless for hours, quite erect, looking exactly like 

 rows of gigantic black bottles set out for a soiree of Fingalians, the gigantic 

 heroes who built up the columns of Staffa for their banqueting-hall, where 

 "the song and the shell went round." As the boat draws nearer, signs of 

 uneasiness begin to appear, awakening yawns, stretching of wings, and wad- 

 dlings to the overhanging edge of the rock; all the long necks are twisting 

 about in active motion, as if the prudent creatures were trying thoroughly to 

 see their way clear before taking a leap. Crack! goes a cartridge at sixty 

 yards — whew! — down go the black gentry, tumbling and rolling head over 



