176 NEW YORK ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 
as bold as the skimmers. Their favorite nesting site is the 
irregular line of sea-wrack which marks the highest reach of 
some unusually high tide. When they nest on the bare sand, a 
few stems of reeds or grass are placed around the eggs. This is, 
doubtless, the last remnant of some former more elaborate and 
useful nest-building trait. 
The nestling Terns, as soon as they are dry, begin to pant from 
the excessive heat of the sun and leave the nest at once, scram- 
bling along until they rest under the shade of some stalk of gold- 
enrod. Most of the young birds spend the day squatting close 
to the ground, and only moving to welcome the approach of the 
parents with food. They are fed on predigested fish for over a 
week. The Terns hereabouts are called “Strikers,” from the meth- 
od of fishing of the old birds, which dash down vertically against 
the water with a momentum which sends up a cloud of spray. At 
night the Terns and other young beach-hatched birds take long 
excursions. At eleven and twelve o’clock it was most interesting 
to take a bull’s-eye lantern and walk noiselessly along the shore, 
with only a narrow swath of light to guide us. Tiny white forms 
would occasionally scurry away, and giving chase we would soon 
run down a young tern. It seemed strange to find such tiny help- 
less little beings abroad in the darkness, but at the first frightened 
peep which he uttered at being cornered, a harsh angry tear-r-r-r 
would come from the darkness overhead, and we knew that 
Mother Tern’s sharp eyes were watching over the little fellow, 
guarding him through all the blackness of night. 
Although secure in their island home from all four-footed ene- 
mies, yet careful study of the lives of these voung birds would 
doubtless reveal many tragedies. 
One incident which I noticed was interesting as throwing light 
upon a habit peculiar to many birds—that of the parent removing 
the pieces of egg-shell as soon as the young bird has ‘escaped. 
The skimmers, gulls and Terns all do this. I watched one baby 
Tern escape from his olive-hued prison, and roll wet and sprawl- 
ing out upon the warm sand. The parent Tern was greatly dis- 
turbed, and swooped threateningly at my head all the time I re- 
mained. As usual, a small quantity of blood escaped from the 
egg membranes and more remained within the shell. Hardly had 
the youngster freed himself when a small ant appeared at the edge 
of the nest, waved its antenne for a moment and disappeared. 
The word had evidently been quickly passed, and scores upon 
scores of these ferocious little creatures swarmed over the egg- 
shell and young bird. The little fellow writhed and tried to 
