14 A BIRD COLLECTOR’S MEDLEY. 
birds seemed inclined to disregard the lure, but a second cast proved more 
successful, and our hopes rose high as the younger of the pair was seen to be 
heading for the boat. The old bird followed directly, the faint flesh-coloured 
tinge upon the breast showing clearly as they crossed our bows. We were 
fortunate in securing both, and they proved to be in splendid plumage—a 
erand addition to any collection, however choice. It is less easy than one 
might suppose to distinguish Sandwich Terns by their size, unless they happen 
to be consorting with another species. Their size depends so much on the 
height at which they are flying, that their note affords a far surer means of 
identification. It is a distinctly double note (kee-wit), very distinct from the 
long-drawn “ shree”’ of the Common Tern or the series of short single notes 
uttered by the Arctic. 
I may mention here that a handkerchief knotted in the centre round a 
stone is practically as good a decoy as a dead Tern, and‘will save the life of 
many an undeserving bird. Lunch was the next item on the programme, and 
while the victuals disappeared with business-like rapidity, we admired the fine 
diving powers of several Gannets which were fishing in company outside the 
bar. They were immature birds in the brown plumage. But all the artifices 
of our companion were in vain set forth for their allurement—they remained, 
as did some Skuas, hopelessly out of range throughout the day. The Sandwich 
Terns proved therefore the prece de résistance of our trip, and we returned home 
without any further addition to the bag. 
We had, however, seen a Skua and a Skua once seen is not a sight to be 
easily forgotten. There is a strange fascination about this dusky pirate of 
the sea—this tyrant who supports himself by levying toll on the hard-working 
Gulls and Terns. At first he may be observed preening his feathers on the 
sand unnoticing and unnoticed by the busy throng, and anon his sable form 
has swooped amongst the snow-white flock; some shrieking bird is singled 
out as the victim, pursued with open beak, and forced to drop or disgorge its 
prey. The Skua seizes the fish, and all is quiet once more. Seen as I once 
saw it with a purple thunder-cloud for the background, and a pale green 
sea beneath, the spectacle is impressive in the extreme. 
So a Skua became the object of our ambition; in fact, with some 
members of the party, the pursuit of the Skua became little short of a 
mania. The birds seen on the Norfolk coast are mostly immature specimens 
of Richardson’s Skua, though at times one of the rarer species is secured. I 
have twice seen the “ Buffon” in the flesh; both birds were light and speckled 
with grey, and they can be distinguished from the commoner species by the 
rounded tips of the two long tail feathers, and the fact that only the first two 
