242 TRANSACTIONS, NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF GLASGOW. 
them regarding the bird. Professor Macgillivray, as we came to 
know, had shown a skin of the Little Auk to fishermen in the 
neighbourhood of the sea-fowl] colonies. Speaking of the Professor, 
a Foot-Dee fisherwoman said, “ He was sae ta’en up with the bird 
that he carried it in’s hat,” and that “her man tauld him sae 
muckle he did nae ken, that he wish’t he had his buke to make 
owre again.” 
I may mention that there was a tradition among the fishermen 
that, along with the eagles, the “feck (majority) o’ the Sea-doos” 
disappeared from the rocky promontories. I have heard the older 
men say that they had seen the bird, at the breeding season, at 
Troup Head and the Bullers of Buchan. 
Mr. Mitchell has from time to time stuffed local examples in 
summer plumage, that is, when the throat of the bird is brownish- 
black, and not whitish-grey, the plumage of the examples that 
have recently been in the hands of the bird-stuffers. But, with 
the single exception of an example that was obtained in June, 
near Stonehaven, I myself have not seen, in the flesh, the Little 
Auk in the perfection of its summer plumage. Macgillivray 
records the occurrence of the bird in July at the Bass Rock, and 
in local collections I have seen examples in the breeding plumage. 
Without asserting that the habit of the species is changing or 
has changed on the East Coast, it is safe to say that it has, with 
more or less regularity, been found at almost all seasons of the 
year, and it may not be too much to hope that future observation 
may establish the claim of the Little Auk to be ranked, if not as 
a permanently resident species, at least as a regular winter visitant 
to our shores. 
The Little Auk is the smallest, if not also the most agile, of our 
sea-birds. No bird seems more at home on the world of waters. 
Jt is compact, round, plump, a quick diver, and it does not seem 
to go far from the surface for its food. I have, when boating, 
frequently timed its excursions under water, and not in any instance 
did it remain quite two minutes below the surface. It seems less 
a swimming than a diving bird, and, paradoxical as it may seem, 
it is probably owing to its facility in diving that it loses its life in 
stormy weather. It does not make for the top of the waves, as 
other oceanic birds do, but dashes through them, as a circus-rider 
through a hoop, till, by continuous ducking, it suecumbs from 
