twenty feet overhead they swarm, often dashing against one's person 

 in their haste. 



But with the coming of the dawn, calm, damp and chill, this 

 strange vision of the night has faded as a dream. 



Though through the day these birds roam very far out at sea, at 

 night many come well into the outer bays of the coast, where their 

 presence is made known to those at sea by their very distinctive 

 voices. Here they attend fishermen, and the splash of their feet 

 alongside show that they are able to feed at night as well as by day. 



The loss of this unique bird from among our breeding species 

 would be most deplorable. 



Off of our coast from early May to the middle of September an- 

 other of these ocean dwellers is to be found often in abundance, and 

 it is common the summer through after migration has ceased. 



This is the Wilson's Petrel, named for Alexander Wilson, the so 

 called father of American ornithology by no less of a person than 

 Charles Lucian Bonaparte. Yet it is known to but few, the seafar- 

 ing folk who meet it almost daily knowing it only as the ''Kerry 

 Chicken." 



It is a smaller bird than the Leach's Petrel, having a length of 

 seven inches ; it is of a blackish hue, with white rump and silvered 

 wing coverts like the last, but with a square tail, and long stilt-like 

 legs, the feet being adorned with a lemon yellow area on their webs. 

 Though so common off shore, it is never known to come to land 

 except the few weaklings that are rarely driven inland by violent 

 gales. Its flight is suggestive of that of a swallow : In calm weather 

 the birds flit lightly near the surface of the water, frequently sweep- 

 ing downward to run and seize some food, then resuming their 

 graceful flight ; but with the freshening breeze they face the wind, 

 their activity increasing with the increasing gale, for these seeming 

 frail birds must of necessity drive into the tempest. Yet, in the 

 midst of its fury they are undaunted, now sweeping down to the 

 water's surface to snatch some choice morsel, or poised on fluttering 

 wings, run on its surface toward the dancing object, on its lee, per- 

 haps whirling madly away to leeward, only to swing again into the 

 wind and come up for another trial. On such occasions they seem 

 to assemble from far and wide around seafaring vessels, perhaps 

 attracted by the disturbance of creatures beneath the water brought 

 to the surface by its passage, or perhaps for the alteration and eddies 

 of air currents caused by its tossing hull. The scene is one of great 

 animation, the active birds seeming to dance in joy on the most 

 turbulent billows. It seems no wonder that such elfish creatures 

 should have aroused the apprehensions of the superstition steeped 

 generations of the past. 



For years these little Petrels came with the summer season and 



