OcEAN WANDERERS 
duty till its return after the shadows have again 
fallen, either to bring food and again depart, or else 
to, take jits ‘turn on’ the nest and. let: its mate go 
foraging. 
At the further end of the island we had noticed 
a shanty, and after awhile we went to it. A lone 
and bold fisherman had ensconced himself with his 
family on lonely Seal Island for the season, where 
he was practically monarch of all he surveyed. He 
told us that he remained there lobstering and fishing 
until about December. As he told of all the wild 
fowl he saw and shot during the fall, I almost 
envied him, except for his inability to view his 
advantages save from the culinary standpoint. Every 
bird was of interest only as it was good to eat. In 
this connection he “drew the line”’ on the Petrels. 
But he had a big Newfoundland dog that thought 
otherwise. ‘The owner told us that the animal got 
his own living unaided, Petrels forming his chief 
provision. Practically the whole island was bur- 
rowed full of them, and, even while we were 
conversing, the dog would now and then paw out a 
burrow and eat a poor Petrel, feathers and all, with 
the egg for an appetizer! The whole island smelt 
of Petrels,—that peculiar, unmistakable odour. One 
would think that any vessel, passing anywhere to 
leeward of Seal Island, would get a whiff from that 
great hatching-coop of Mother Carey’s Chickens. 
We passed the day very pleasantly, exploring 
caverns, hunting the cliffs on the seaward side for 
the nests of the Black Guillemot, inspecting also 
nests of Savanna Sparrows, Spotted Sandpipers, and 
also one of a pair of Barn Swallows, the latter built 
127 
