136 THE BIRD WATCHER 
learn to soar. I waszwrong, perhaps, to speak of 
them as light, for act solidly made, and no doubt 
heavy enough in proportion to their bulk. Still, for 
their type of flight, they seem to me to fly lightly ; 
and there is a little—just a little—tendency, as I have 
noticed, towards a higher development. I may be 
mistaken, but I hope that it is so; no one can 
become intimate with the puffin without wishing him 
well. It is most interesting to see things in their 
beginnings, and to speculate on what, if they continue, 
they are likely, in time, to become. 
The puffin has other and far more fatal enemies 
than the skua. His remains, all picked and bleeding 
—often as though a feast had but just been made on 
him—I am constantly finding about, generally on the 
rocks, but sometimes—once, at least—on the heather 
above the cliffs. At first, when I began to find these 
bloody relics, I thought of nothing but peregrines, 
and the one inhabitant of this great lonely ness 
confirmed me in this view. But I have never seen 
one of these birds (or any other hawk) all the time 
I have been here, and this seems strange if it is really 
their doing ; for I have been out all day long when- 
ever it has not poured continuously—which last, 
indeed, in spite of the wretchedness of the weather, 
has not happened often. I hardly think I should 
have missed seeing one or other of these large birds 
beating about in wide circles, as is their custom, did 
they really sojourn here; and yet what more likely 
place could be found? Lately it has occurred to me . 
