178 THE BIRD WATCHER 
almost touches the le and with both the wings ex- 
tended so as altogether to enclose it, jode/s and trills 
softly, and then nibbles it as before. And are not 
these pretty little domestic scenes, on the cold bare 
rock, with the sea beneath and the blowing wind all 
about? What a snug little boudoir this ledge of the 
precipice—white with droppings and wet with the sea- 
spray—becomes as one watches them! Such tender- 
ness amidst such roughness seems wonderful. 
And now I have to make one of those doubtful- 
certain entries—certain at the time, doubtful as one 
thinks of it afterwards—like that about the raven. 
It will be admitted that it was natural for me to sup- 
pose that the bird which has just acted this scene with 
the chick was one or other of its parents ; but, to my 
surprise, just after it is over and the chick has toddled 
away to the white-eyed bird—undoubtedly its parent, 
and the only one so marked on the ledge—in flies 
another guillemot with a fish, and amidst loud jode/- 
ings from the few birds on the ledge, gives it to the 
chick. Afterwards this bird, who seems thus to have 
proved its relationship, walks a little way along the 
ledge, then returns, and he and the white-eyed one 
make passes at and then nibble one another with their 
bills so energetically, jode/-ing and barking the while, 
that it almost seems as though it would pass into a 
fight—more proof that they are married. Then the 
one that has brought the fish flies off to sea again. 
Now he flew in with that fish just as the chick had 
toddled away from the bird that had petted it, this 
