MopeERN - CLIFF-DWELLERS 
no fog—evidently no chance for photography. 
Breakfast was over by seven, and then it did not 
take long to return to the birds. It seemed very 
strange to have so many of them so close about us, 
and these not the common door-yard species, but 
those which usually one must seek afar upon the 
wild seas. For all that they made the most agree- 
able and fascinating of bird-neighbours. I had 
expected that Bird Rock would be a very noisy 
place, but in reality it did not give me that impres- 
sion. During the day there are plenty of sounds, 
but they are either lost or mellowed in the vastness 
of Nature’s amphitheatre. ‘The sea moans and the 
wind sighs, making a sort of bass monotone into 
which the cries of the birds harmoniously blend. 
From the house it all sounds like some muffled 
murmur. But standing at the edge of the cliff, the 
sounds are audible enough, though not as ear- 
splitting as in some Gull or Tern colonies. The 
loudest calls arose when anything agitated the 
Kittiwakes, when the shrill clarion—sounding like 
“kittiwake, kittiwake’’—enunciated with startling 
distinctness, rang out above everything else. ‘The 
harsh grating notes of the Gannets were also very 
noticeable at times. But the other inhabitants have 
very subdued voices, and only express themselves in 
low croakings and gruntings. 
The morning passed pleasantly and profitably in 
further study of the birds, especially the Murres. 
There were two kinds, the Common and the Briin- 
nich’s, in about equal abundance, I thought. The 
two were mixed in on the ledges indiscriminately. 
A Common Murre sitting on its egg was just as 
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