IN THE SHETLANDS 187 
likely, perhaps, that I was mistaken. Still, one must 
remember the interest taken by the other birds 
when a chick is fed, as shown by their jode/-ing, and 
also that these have now no chick of their own to be 
busy with. 
There is something in the sight and feel of a fish, 
indeed, which goes to the soul of a guillemot. Two, 
with one between them, have been making a most 
extraordinary noise, harahing and jode/-ing as they 
bend over it. It is laid on the ledge and taken up 
again several times, by one or another of them, and 
finally one swallows it. This jode/-ing note of the 
guillemot—and there is no other word, to my mind, 
which expresses it nearly so well—constantly begins 
with another and almost louder one, of two syllables, 
which is pretty exactly like the word hara (“ hurrah!” 
but with the first syllable as in harrow). There 
is a moment’s pause, and then follows a second 
“‘ hara”—or “ harrah” would be the better spelling— 
in a higher key, and it is the last syllable of this 
which, prolonged in a wonderful manner, makes what 
I call the jode/, and this jode/ often ends in a kind of 
barking. ‘ Harrah—harrah—harrah !” from one bird 
or another, without its continuation and in a low, 
sometimes almost a soft tone, is constantly to be heard 
on this ledge, and, no doubt, on all the ledges. 
Though suitable to any and every occasion, it seems 
mostly the vehicle of parental affection. As, for 
example, the chick which has been asleep, and almost 
buried for some time, now rouses himself, comes out, 
