AMID SPRUCES AND SEA-GIRT ROCKS 183 
from her own breast. On so large an island the nests are 
very hard to find. We spent a long time beating the bushes 
with clubs, hoping that some sitting bird would dash out in 
sudden fright. The main chance was that the dog would 
scent one, but the animal was old, and tired from an early 
hunt on his own hook, and he took but a listless interest in 
the search, which was not successful. 
After lunching by a spring-hole, stared at meanwhile by 
a band of the numerous sheep that graze at large upon the 
island, we went on and came to another gull colony just back 
from the shore. Rambling off from the rest of the party, 
I found the birds less wary. So I let them leave me and go 
on, and presently, sitting in a clump of low bushes, I had the 
gulls flying over me comparatively near, and secured all the 
snap-shots I needed. They were settling down upon the trees 
near by, and some of the beautiful creatures, conspicuous 
upon the dark foliage, allowed me to approach and take pic¬ 
tures of them. A good way was to sit down behind a bush 
near a clump of spruces where they alighted by their nests, 
and snap them in the act of alighting or flying off. One bird 
constantly returned to a dead tree, and would allow me to 
walk up boldly within ten yards and photograph it. Thus I 
finally secured a series of pictures, though not nearly as satis¬ 
factory as could be obtained in some of our Maine colonies so 
zealously protected through the noble efforts of our apostle 
of bird-liberty, Mr. William Dutcher, and others like him. 
This island is a great breeding resort of the Leach’s Petrel, 
or Mother Carey’s Chicken. Not one is visible by day, yet 
the woods and pastures by the shores are fairly honeycombed 
with their burrows. All we have to do, whenever the notion 
strikes us to e.xamine one, is to pull up the light mouldy soil, 
starting at the entrance. A couple of feet along, just below 
the surface, the tunnel ends in a little chamber, and there sits 
