AN ISLAND OF WATER 329 



pencil, I followed its flight. I know of no bird 

 better named than this. First on one side of the 

 bow, then the other, the bird described loops, 

 doubling almost into figures-of-eight. At one 

 point in its course, it put on full brakes with wings 

 and feet, spattered for a few feet through the 

 water, with quick paddling webs, snatched a 

 small fish, swallowed it and left. 



When I had it in the field of my glasses I saw 

 what, to me, was a wholly new observation — the 

 dipping of the under wing-tip well into the water 

 at almost every outer edge of the turns, and not 

 only this, but a very apparent throbbing or suc- 

 cessive fluttering of that wing alone (the other 

 being held quite still), as if to increase the brak- 

 ing power, or the fulcrum value of the heavier 

 medium. It reminded me somewhat of my old 

 days of pole-vaulting, when, running at full speed, 

 I struck the tip of the pole into the ground. Time 

 after time I watched the little furrow which the 

 wing made, and saw the tremulous pressing against 

 the slight hold of the water. After forty or fifty 

 observed repetitions, I have not the slightest doubt 

 of the material assistance which this habit gives 

 to the ease of swift pivoting and steep banking. 



Mother Gary's chickens or stormy petrels were 

 present on most days, regardless of waves and 

 winds, flickering cheerfully about their business 

 of finding small prey. Leaches and dark-rumped 

 petrels I expected to find, but when a white-faced 

 petrel (Pelagodroma marina) flew on board late 

 one evening, I knew I had a prize. This bird has 



