May, 1907.] THE VICTORIAN NATURALIST. 7 



doubt, carefully assist them at sea until they can safely weather 

 any storm. The young petrels are fed by the old birds by 

 regurgitation, in the following manner : — When the parents arrive 

 home they open their beaks widely over the heads of their off- 

 spring, which forthwith thrusts its head into the open gape of its 

 parent, and, opening wide its tiny bill, the contents of its parent's 

 stomach — consisting of a fishy, oily paste — is ejected into it. 



I had conjured up visions of a repetition of the scenes enacted 

 at the home-coming of the j\Iutton-bird {Ihiffinus tenuirostris), a 

 petrel which burrows in a similar manner to the " Mother Carey's 

 Chickens," but the scene was just the antithesis to that which I 

 expected. Whereas when the Mutton-bird arrives home it does so 

 in vast numbers — thousands of birds can be seen filling the air at 

 one time, just about dusk — and on reaching their burrows they 

 burst forth into demoniacal noises, remaining at home until just 

 before daylight, the White-faced Storm-Petrel, however, comes 

 home long after dark, singly and silently, and, liitting for a few 

 moments up and down the rookery on the outlook for its burrow, 

 it descends quietly into it, and after about seven to twenty minutes 

 it reappears and flies out to sea again. 



Wet to the knees from wading through the lagoon, I lay 

 shivering at the rookery, the cold, fierce gale chilling me to the 

 bone, and the loose sand meanwhile being blown into my eyes. 

 Patiently' 1 waited from 7.30 p.m. to 8.30 p.m., when a single 

 bird flew over me and alighted at the mouth of a burrow a few 

 yards away, and after a few vigorous backward kicks with her 

 webbed feet, she scratched away the loose sand that had been 

 blown into the mouth of her nesting place, and silently dis- 

 appeared into it. A faint purring sound of welcome could be 

 heard, evidently made by the nestling in anticipation of a meal. 

 After about ten minutes the adult bird reappeared and silently 

 departed, flying off the ground with ease — just the opposite 

 method to the Mutton-bird, which has to obtain windage for its 

 wings by leaping off an eminence such as a cliff, or running 

 rapidly down a steep sandy slope free from obstacles, before it 

 can fly. The next adult bird to visit this part of the rookery 

 arrived at 9.5 p.m., and then they came flying in from seawards 

 every few minutes until 10.40 p.m., after which only a few 

 stragglers arrived. It was indeed a weird experience as I lay, 

 benumbed with cold, watching their movements, to observe which 

 I had to continuously clear the sand out of my eyes. What a 

 wild and stormy night it was, the only spark of comfort being the 

 ray of light from the Queenscliff lighthouse in the distance. 



As I was desirous of securing an adult bird for photographic pur- 

 poses, I stayed at the rookery until I had secured two by blocking 

 them in their burrows by boarding up the entrance, and so left 

 them until the next day. At 1.35 a.m. I left the rookery and 



