376 THE BIRD WATCHER 
that, and for a littlegbefore, whilst it was still coming 
in, was precisely the time at which he attempted it. 
At any time, moreover, and just as the spirit moved 
them, these seals would leave their rocks, and, after 
remaining for some time in the water, return to them 
again. Though I did not take any particular notice 
of the wind—it seemed always to be blowing every- 
where—yet I am pretty sure it was not the same each 
day, and the seals’ movements, even as it affected the 
sea, seemed to bear no relation to it. On one par- 
ticular day the sea was rough—nothing excessive for 
these islands, but rough enough for it to be a fine 
sight to see it dashing against the stacks and jutting 
cliffs. I did not stay long on that day, and I was 
hardly any time by the pool to which the greater 
number of seals—all of the common kind—resorted. 
I cannot now recall whether there were any lying on 
the great slab of rock—probably there were, or I 
should have been impressed by their absence—but, 
even whilst I was there, one came up on to one of the 
smaller rocks, and afterwards went off it again, all in 
the swirl and foam. In ascending, this seal swam in 
against the backward flow of the wave, and I was 
struck by the strength and ease with which it stemmed 
such a rush and turmoil of water. No doubt there 
must be seas in which seals dare not approach the 
rocks, but that they do not require it to be calm—I 
mean, moderately calm—in order to ascend them, this 
one case which came under my observation is sufficient 
to assure me. I imagine, however, that what is not 
