l88 Campbell and Mattingley, Rookery of Storni-Petrels. [,^,^^'^^"11 



was shining brightly, we decided to await the arrival of the 

 other batch of birds, the mates of those sitting quietly in the 

 burrows. Very little has been written about this species of 

 Storm-Petrel, so it was with eager interest that we awaited the 

 progress of events. We had been on far-off islands when the 

 Mutton-Birds {Piiffinus tennirostris), a larger species of Petrel, 

 returned about this time of evening in thousands and tens of 

 thousands to feed their mates, and we had witnessed the 

 scuttling to and fro, and the fighting as birds got into wrong 

 burrows, and had had our ears filled with the din of wranglings, 

 croakings, and croonings that lasted till almost daylight ; and we 

 naturally expected somewhat similar performances. We marked 

 ten birds in the burrows, to see if this could give any clue to 

 their habits. The same musty smell that pervades the Mutton- 

 Bird rookery, arising from the natural oil with which the birds' 

 plumage is greased, was noticed here, and it soon permeated our 

 blankets and clothes. It was at 9.30 p.m. that the first Storm- 

 Petrel came in from sea, and circled swiftly and silently close to 

 the ground, as if searching for its own particular burrow. What 

 a problem, especially if the night be dark, to find one's own 

 home amid such tens of thousands of a similar nature ! Bird 

 followed bird every {^v^ minutes in silence, until about 10.30 the 

 numbers had increased so that two or three could be seen at 

 once. But where were the numbers scuttling about the ground 

 and cutting the air in all directions amid noisy arguments and 

 welcomes .'' Two hours later, still no great increase — ones and 

 twos still passed our vantage point, flashing their white under 

 surfaces as they occasionally turned in the moonlight, but none 

 settling within sight, though the night was clear and bright. 

 Not a sound until we beat or stamped upon the ground, when 

 an impatient or hungry bird near by would call from a burrow 

 with a low, rasping voice as untuneful as all sea-birds' notes 

 are. 



We estimated that at the very least there must be 50,000 

 nesting burrows in the sand rises about us, and we were forced 

 to the conclusion that all the birds cannot return every night. 

 It appears as if some only, and that a very small proportion, 

 return to change places with the brooding mate. Search as we 

 would, in the small hours of that moonlit morning, we could 

 only find one burrow where two birds were at home. We then 

 snatched an hour's sleep under the friendly shelter of a salt- 

 bush, and about 3.30 a.m. were awakened by two Storm-Petrels, 

 with low cries, running on to us from behind and taking wing. 

 This illustrates the habit Petrels have of running on to a mound, 

 or throwing themselves from a cliff, before taking flight. Their 

 long wings prevent them rising easily from flat ground. By 

 daylight not a bird was to be seen. We visited our marked 

 burrows soon afterwards, and of ten birds which were each 



