IN THE SHETLANDS Qi¢ 
would think, to every creature in it—I saw another 
kittiwake being savagely murdered by another 
herring-gull. This was a repulsive sight, and 
through the glasses I could watch it closely, not a 
detail escaping. The gull, with the hook of its bill 
fixed in the kittiwake’s throat, pressed it down on the 
water, shook it with violence, paused, got a better 
purchase, shook it again, then, opening and gobbling 
up with the mandibles, seemed to be trying to crush 
the head, or compress the throat, between them. By 
this the young bird’s struggles, which had been of an 
innocent and quite ineffectual kind, had almost 
ceased, but its legs still kicked in the air as it lay on 
its back in the water—just as the other had lain on 
the rock. The gull now, having managed the pre- 
liminaries, ceased to be so rough and violent, but, 
backing a little out from the body, so as to get the 
proper swing, began, in a cold, deliberate manner, to 
pickaxe down into the exposed breast, each blow 
ending in a bite and tear. A crimson spot, becoming 
gradually larger and larger till it represented almost 
the whole upper surface, as the body cavity was laid 
open, responded to this treatment ; and now the gull, 
seizing upon entrail and organ, helped each backward 
pull with a flap or two of the wings, feasting redly 
and royally. 
So it goes on, and, in time, both the part-players in 
this little sample fragment of an infinitely great 
whole are drifted by the waves to that same towering 
“‘ stack” which has lately been the scene of the puffin 
