450 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE 



thirteen hundred feet high, the Wliite-tailed Eagle 

 makes its home, and on whose heathery slopes the 

 Great Skua, a race elsewhere now nearly extinct, 

 still thrives and breeds. 



As we draw nearer to this mighty rock-wall 

 which appears to tower almost to the skies, and 

 against which the thundering surf creates a blind- 

 ing mist which perpetually obscures its base, the 

 Puffins and Guillemots are around us in thousands, 

 diving hither and thither and flying from the course 

 of the boat. Some little distance away a small 

 party of Arctic Terns are fishing. Light as gossa- 

 mer they hover around, and when they fly over us, 

 with beaks pointed to the water beneath, the bright 

 coral of their feet can be seen against their snowy 

 feathers. Now one shuts its wings, and, as though 

 its fair white form had been turned into marble 

 in very reality, dashes sheer into the waves. Un- 

 like the Gannet, however, it does not disappear, 

 but as the splash subsides, it is seen fluttering 

 upwards again with a tiny fish in its bill. As it 

 rises to join its companions in the air, wild cries are 

 heard — " tee-e-e rac, tee-e-e rac " — in every direc- 

 tion, and suddenly a swift dark bird sails into view. 

 Round and round the little white angler it darts, 

 until the latter drops its fish in terror, sometimes 

 even disgorging those already swallowed. Before 

 the prey can reach the water the pirate has seized 

 it with a sudden downward swoop, and is making 

 rapidly off. Over the heaving sea, across the 

 jagged line of foam which marks where the stead- 

 fast rocks parry the blows of the waves, he wends 

 his sombre way. Away to the right, the bulwark 



