106 THE BIRD WATCHER 
flies down with the chick on its back, but it does not 
follow that there is d@ other way of explaining it. 
I think there is another ; for though the chick, when 
it leaves the ledge, may not be able to fly in any true 
sense of the word, yet it might make a shift to flutter 
down to the sea, in a line sufficiently diagonal to 
avoid the danger of striking upon the face of the 
cliff where it projected at a lower elevation, or upon 
the rocks at its base. This may not be likely, but at 
least it is possible, and, on the other hand, if the 
parent guillemots do really carry their chicks down, 
why do they not do so shortly after they are hatched, 
or, at least, much sooner than they do? Why should 
they feed them on the ledges for a fortnight or three 
weeks, for I think they are as long as that there, 
during all which time they are getting larger and 
heavier? Though the young guillemot keeps so quiet 
on the ledge, yet it has the full use of its limbs, and 
seems quite as forward and capable as are young 
chickens and ducklings. It would, no doubt, be at 
home in the water at once, if only it were put there. 
Does it, then, wait until it can get there itself, or does 
the parent bird take it? This question I hope to be 
able to answer before I leave here. 
A bird that has no chick now brings in a fish to 
the ledge, and seems not to know what to do with it. 
At last he puts it down, and another bird—not, I 
think, the partner, but it may be—takes it. It seems 
as though the instinct of feeding the young still con- 
tinued with this bird, though its young one is gone. 
