176 THE BIRD WATCHER 
white-eyed parent hagggot returned, nor has the chick 
ever been taken properly under the wing of the other 
one, or stayed there more than a few seconds, when 
it has managed to squeeze itself in. For the last two 
hours and more, too, it has stood and squatted on the 
rock, giving up all attempts, and the parent never 
volunteering. Thus I leave them ; but coming again 
the next day, about noon, I find the chick lying in the 
usual way under the right wing of the plain parent 
bird. It is evident, therefore, that this office may be 
performed by either parent; but I still think one of 
them—the mother, as I suppose—undertakes it more 
willingly and cheerfully. She—the white-eyed bird— 
is off the ledge, this being the first time I have not 
found her there on my arrival. 
The other chick is gone. Yes, gone; for | go to 
several points from which I can see the whole of this 
small ledge—on a part of which only | look directly 
down—and from none of them can I see the second 
chick, which, were it there, I think I must. Without 
any doubt, this time, I think, it is gone, and so must 
have either flown or been carried down within the 
last twenty-four, or rather twenty-two, hours ; for it 
was here on the ledge with its parent when I went 
away yesterday, at two or thereabouts. There are 
only seven birds in all, on this ledge, now. On 
another one where, when I first came, there were 
more than a hundred, and, two days ago, sixty odd, 
there are now fifteen only. Elsewhere, counting all 
the ledges I can see, there are only forty odd birds— 
