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BIRDS OF AMERICA 



Briinnich's Murre comes as near being like the 

 Antarctic Penguins as any other North Amer- 

 ican species. It is built primarily for swimming 

 and diving, and is a poor walker, waddling awk- 

 wardly in an upright position. 



Except as it may climb out of the cold water 

 on a cake of ice, its only chance to exercise these 

 poor gifts is during the short summer in the 

 Far North on its breeding grounds. There the 

 Murres, mingled with the other species, resort 



Photo by H. K. Job Courtesy of Hougnton Mutiin Co. 



BRDNNICH'S MURRE 



Presently it will lift its egg onto its feet and hold it there for 

 incubation 



to precipitous shores or rocky islands, from the 

 Gulf of St. Lawrence away up to northern 

 Greenland. I have visited the colony on Great 

 Bird Rock, Magdalen Islands. Here, in June, I 

 found them standing in rows on the narrow 

 ledges of the cliff, usually with back to the sea, 

 each bird holding between its legs one large pear- 

 shaped egg. These eggs have very hard shells, 

 and are so shaped that they roll in a circle, which 

 helps to prevent their falling off the cliff. They 

 are colored a great variety of tints of green, 



blue, buff, whitish, and are so variously marked 

 that it is impossible to find any two alike. Usually 

 the Murres crowd upon these ledges as thickly 

 as they can find room to stand or squat. 



From these ledges they throw themselves with 

 confident abandon, and, with exceedingly rapid 

 wing beats, circle out over the sea and back 

 again to the rock. Otherwise they alight on the 

 water with rather a heavy splash, and are apt to 

 dive forthwith. They can be seen here and there 

 swimming about, distinguishable from Ducks bv 

 the fact that their posterior part floats rather 

 high — reminding one of the ancient ships as de- 

 scribed by Vergil, with " lofty sterns." 



Their hoarse baritone voice is almost human, 

 and they are supposed to say murre. When I 

 first heard them on the rocky ledges close at 

 hand, I was involuntarily startled, so much did 

 it sound to me like someone calling my boyhood 

 nickname, "Herb, Herb!" 



Unless one can visit a breeding colony, about 

 the only way to cultivate their acquaintance is to 

 get offshore in winter, on the bleak, wind-swept 

 ocean, not much further south than Nantucket 

 shoals, or, better, the coast of Maine. Miles off 

 Cape Cod in mid-winter, from fishing vessels I 

 have seen them by hundreds. Flocks of them 

 dotted the ocean in all directions, or moved in 

 lines swiftly through the air, to plunge into the 

 water and disappear like stones, presently to bob 

 up many rods further off. Occasionally at the 

 entrance of harbors, in bitter cold weather, I have 

 seen them perched on some slanting pole or 

 beacon, from which they would plunge directly 

 into the water. 



Though oceanic in habit, this particular species 

 seems to have a peculiar faculty, as has the 

 Dovekie, for getting into trouble by wandering 

 from its real element. After winter storms they 

 are liable to be found far inland, sometimes 

 stranded in a snow bank out in some field, or on 

 the ice of a pond or stream, vainly seeking lo 

 find water. In such cases they are emaciated 

 and must perish, as they are tmable to rise on 

 wing from any surface except water. When 

 word comes of a queer unknown bird which 

 stands upright on the ice or in the snow, it is a 

 likely guess to call it a Briinnich's Murre. 



Herbert K. Job. 



