AMONG THE WarTER-FowL 
on to the rock in a sort of open cave part way 
down the side of ase of reversion 
to the original habit of the species. At sunset we 
mounted up on the highest part of the island, and 
strained our eyes to catch sight of the schooner. 
It began to get chilly, and our prospects seemed 
excellent for an involuntary night-study of the 
Petrels.. But at’ last, sal ho! In* half°an? hom 
the vessel anchored off the island, and we were 
presently sailing back to Matinicus under the silver 
rays of the moon. 
At this visit the Petrels had just laid their eggs. 
Most of my other trips to their breeding-grounds 
have been also at the laying-time, and I should never 
have known the quaintness of the young Petrels, ex- 
cept for one delightful morning on Seal Island, Nova 
Scotia. This was in early September. From nearly 
every burrow into which I inserted my arm,— 
whether in pasture, woods or gravel-bank,—I drew 
cut a young Petrel. Some were completely feathered, 
and, but for the down that still clung to the ends 
of the feathers, they might have been taken for 
adults. Others could not boast a single real feather, 
yet were warmly clad in a dense gray down, a hee 
lighter i in colour than the regular plumage. Between 
biases extremes there were all stages. But every 
youngster that I examined was fatter and heavier 
than an adult. ‘There was not a parent with the 
young in any of the nests that we examined. ‘The 
keeper of the light said that the old birds flew in 
at night and fed ite young. That they performed 
this duty well was evident enough. I could not 
but wonder, though, how late it would be in the 
128 
