188 THE BIRD WATCHER 
and begins to walk geng the ledge. The mother 
follows and says “harrah!” He stops and turns. 
She goes up to him with “harrah!”; then, bending 
down her head till her beak almost touches the rock, 
she jode/s softly, as though very pleased both with 
herself and him. He moves on again. ‘ Harrah !”’ 
(“Will he really do so?”) He turns to go back. 
“Harrah!” (“In that case she will follow him.”) 
And so on and so on, an “harrah!” for whatever he 
does, there being, in each one, a certain indefinable 
tone of interest, mixed with a little surprise. 
During this last promenade the chick flapped its 
wings a good deal, and, once or twice, came a little 
towards the edge of the rock, nor did the mother 
keep so between it and him as I should have expected. 
By some instinct, however, he goes along the length 
of the ledge, but never for more than a step or two 
forward towards the sea. One of the two chicks is 
already gone, and this restlessness on the part of the 
other, which has never been so marked before, may 
be the prelude to his going too. I would fain see the 
flight, if I could, however it may be, but I have been 
here all day, and mother and chick are now, again, 
crouched together as usual. It is near seven, and so 
cold and wretched that I can stand it no longer, but 
have to go. When I get up I can hardly stand 
steady, and lumbago has crept upon me unawares. 
Understanding that he lodges with me, the toothache, 
later, pays him a little visit, and the two chat together 
all the evening. Bitterly cold it was during the last 
