Vol. VI. 

 1907 



] Campbell and Mattingley, Rookery of Storm- Petrels. 187 



life. Just when we saw them they were taking their fill of the 

 prolific life of the marsh. Soon they will begin to put on fat 

 to help them on their March journey north. Among these 

 wading birds stalked solitary Gulls, both the large Pacific and 

 the small Silver species, scavenging the marsh banks of sea 

 offal, and ever on the look-out to rob some of the tinier birds of 

 their heads. On the bank beyond, preening their feathers for 

 their evening flight to Western Port, were a dozen or two Black 

 Swans. They passed over our camp later in the evening, 

 flying V-shaped across the bay, and they returned just after 

 daylight next morning. The marsh has other interests also. 

 It points out how the island has been growing in size. Between 

 the sandbanks mud is deposited by the high tides, and when 

 the marsh has gathered enough of this sediment to encourage 

 salt-loving plants to grow thereon, it will rise from the water 

 and become dry land. The samphire moor, touched with all 

 the greens of spring, yet mellowed with the browns and purples 

 of autumn, looks a veritable garden of heathy bushes, but at 

 closer quarters it is seen to mark a further stage in the raised 

 mudbanks. Tracks of Land Rails were here observed, and 

 later a little jet-black chick, which must have lost its mother, 

 was picked up dead. Grass-Birds and White-eyes also inhabit 

 the samphire. 



Passing over to some of the sandbanks, we came across what 

 was the real object of our summer visit — the Petrel rookery. 

 Little burrows, just large enough to put one's hand in, each 

 with a little heap of sand outside, were seen, among native 

 spinach and saltbush, sometimes so thickly that every square 

 yard held one of them. Inserting the hand we could reach to 

 the end, where a large chamber was found and a White-faced 

 Storm-Petrel sat quietly upon its Qgg. There was not a sound 

 save our own voices, yet there must have been thousands of 

 birds within earshot. Each was intent upon its task of 

 incubation, now very near completion, for most of the eggs we 

 examined were already chipping, and in three burrows we 

 discovered a tiny, fluffy, grey chick. When brought out to the 

 light the Petrel, which is about 8 inches long, seemed very 

 stupid, and scrambled away on being released. On the wing, 

 however, it is the perfection of ease and grace. All writers of 

 the sea have made mention of Storm-Petrels. Known to sailors 

 as " Mother Carey's Chickens," they have been credited with 

 bearing, by their cries at certain times, the tidings of a coming 

 storm. But whether that be true or no, it is none the less 

 wonderful that such tiny birds should be able to weather out the 

 storms of the sea and spend all their life upon the wide waste of 

 the ocean, only coming to shore during the months of December 

 and January to rear their offspring. 



As it was now far past sunset, and the Christmas moon 



