2 SOME ACCOUNT OF THE MUTTON BIRDS, ETC. 



yellow grass growing up to the waist. Most uninviting look- 

 ing spots thev appear to be. As you pass them in the 

 day time you might fairly suppose that there was no living 

 thing upon them except an occasional shag or a Pacific 

 gull. I have thought that a sailor wrecked on one of these 

 little wave-beaten spots might even starve if he slept 

 soundly at night, ignorant that under his feet there lay 

 concealed hundreds of thousands of birds, which, when eaten 

 fresh, are among the most delicious of foods. About the 

 middle of September the sooty petrels visit these breeding 

 places, coming in at night and remaining some ten days, in 

 order to dig their holes. They effect this with their feet, 

 scattering the sand behind them in clouds. When this pre- 

 liminary task is finished they leave their future nests for four 

 or five weeks, and are not seen at all in the neighbourhood. 

 In the middle of November they commence laying eggs. 

 Mr. E. D. Atkinson has taken fresh eggs on November 21. 

 Whether the males feed the mother birds during the period 

 of incubation I do not know. But as the males return every 

 evening it is probable that they do. Only one egg is laid by 

 each female, and it is doubtful whether in the case of the 

 egg being destroyed another is laid. I failed to enquire at 

 what period the young bird is hatched out, but I gather that 

 it must be at the commencement of January. On the 3rd of 

 March I landed on Little Dog Island, and received my first 

 introduction to these most interesting sea birds. At 6 p.m. 

 not a mutton bird was in sight. Indeed, during the fort- 

 night that I was cruising about in a boat I never saw a petrel 

 in the day time anywhere. It is their habit to fly away to 

 sea very early in the morning to distances 40 and 50 miles 

 away, returning only when it is dusk. Whether they have 

 long ago cleared the immediately surrounding waters of the 

 food they require I cannot say ; but it is a surprising fact 

 that not one of the old birds is ever visible in the neighbour- 

 hood of their young throughout the day. Walking about on 

 a rookery is a matter of no mean difficulty. The ground, 

 always loose and powdery, is everywhere perforated with 

 holes from two to three feet deep, about the diameter of a 

 rabbit-burrow. Among the long grass it is almost im- 

 possible to prevent crushing down the sand and endaugering 

 the lives of the young birds by suffocation, at the same time 

 falling headlong oneself. Just at sunset I was invited 

 to go some two hundred yards up on to the 

 higher ground — the island is only 200 acres in extent — in 

 order to see the birds come in. I shall never forget that 

 evening as long as I live. The sun was setting, leaving a 

 broad belt of crimson on the western horizon, and soon the 

 surroundin^ sea became almost invisible. Not a sound was 

 heard except the rustling of the grass in the wind. There 



