2 HULL SCIENTIFIC AND FIELD NATURALISTS CLUB. 



cruel fangs masked by those breakers. Their vessel is 

 crushed like an egg shell in the grip of a giant, and they 

 are hurled into eternity before any means of rescue can 

 be devised. 



Or visit the cliffs again in spring or summer, when the 

 treacherous sea is soughing gently at their feet, and brilliant 

 sunshine touching into vivid colour the green patches that 

 relieve the monotony of the continuous white line. Can 

 any contrast be more beautiful than this of blue sky, the sea, 

 and towering white walls flecked with green and fringed 

 with sea foam, or more powerful in its appeal to the heart 

 of the lover of nature ? At this season, too, the mighty cliff 

 shelters in its bosom myriads of birds who find there a 

 nursery to rear their young ; and in the expression of the 

 emotions which at that period possess every phase of created 

 life, present to the onlooker, be he naturalist or not, a scene 

 that invariably excites an appreciation that impels him to 

 revisit it. The otherwise silent and sombre ledges are fairly 

 alive with birds, incessantly bowing to each other as with 

 a politeness which their continual fighting belies, lovemaki ng, 

 apparently all talking at once, no one listening to the other. 

 The birds seem so thick upon the favourite ledges as to 

 leave no room for more, yet a continual stream of new 

 arrivals comes in and fights its way among the seething 

 mass, sometimes, however, being beaten back and circling 

 round again before repeating the attempt. Each new comer 

 is greeted with a shower of pecks from those already in 

 possession, whilst occasionally the fight lasts till one or 

 other, or both combatants lose their balance and fall off the 

 cliff. Along the face of the cliff the birds fly to and fro 

 like a swarm of flies, whilst countless thousands are settled 

 in small and large parties on the water 350 feet below, quietly 

 courting and feeding, or resting till their turn comes to 

 join their mates above. A babel of hoarse cries, which has 

 been compared to the cheering of a distant multitude, rises 

 continuously, mingled with the sound of quick wing-beats, 

 to the watcher on the cliff top, as does a most ancient and 

 fish-like smell whenever a puff of wind reaches him from 

 below ! 



In the early morning, when the sun is on the cliffs, I 

 have seen thousands of birds sporting in the water round 

 some low rock, the game apparently consisting of alternately 

 scrambling up the rock and flopping down again into the 

 water, those which dropped down being replaced at intervals 

 by fresh arrivals at the top of the rock. They frequently 



