112 
The Birds of Pembrokeshire. 
house, before we went out and were successful in discovering 
that the birds were at last upon the move, and this was close 
upon eleven p.m. The birds were then flying in numbers over 
the ground to and fro about the height of our heads, almost 
brushing our faces as they flitted past. Their strange wailing 
cry resounded on all sides, and they kept up an unearthly chorus 
until the first streak of dawn. We saw numbers come forth 
from holes at our feet, flapping with their wings for a yard or 
two along the ground before they were able to rise into the air, 
and it seemed as if it was necessary for them that the ground 
should slightly incline downwards, in order that they might gain 
a bite upon the air. The old sheep-dog of the farm was with 
us, and amused herself by catching the Shearwaters one after 
another, and bringing them uninjured to our hands. Not 
wanting any, we would then toss them up into the air, and let 
them go, once or twice getting the benefit of a vomit of the 
greenish oil which the bird is able to discharge, either when 
frightened, or for the purpose of defence. We watched the 
birds for a long time in the calm and semi-twilight of the 
beautiful night, and it appeared as if they flew about the island 
for a long time before going out to sea, and that others were 
constantly coming in again from the water. There seemed, 
indeed, no diminution in the numbers flying over the island all 
through the night, for when we at last retired to bed, we still 
heard the same wailing cries, often close outside our bedroom 
window. It was not until day dawned that the chorus gradually 
died away, and rising early, and going out to take a walk over 
the island, we detected but a single Shearwater sitting at the 
entrance of its burrow, into which it scuttled on our approach. 
Thrusting our arm inside, we found that it was a straight 
burrow, as, lying down, we were just able to touch the egg at its 
end, also the bird. Mr. Vaughan Davies informed us that one 
year he ploughed cartloads of the poor “Cockles”’ into the 
ground for manure, setting boys at night to knock them down 
with sticks, and to kill them, as they came out of their holes. 
Numbers of Manx Shearwaters nest on the adjoining island of 
