48 Mr. W. R. Ogilvie Grant on Birds 



turned out wheeling and screaming round our encampment, 

 and offering the most tempting rocketing shots as they 

 swept over the high rocks above us. 



The male, in a harsh guttural voice, cries " ia-gow-a-gow- 

 a-gow/' and the female chimes in " la-ia-Ta/^ and it may be 

 imagined that with thousands of these miscreants circling 

 close round our tent during the entire night, tired as we 

 were, sleep was almost impossible on the first evening of 

 our stay. During the whole of our visit we used every night 

 to be mobbed by these noisy birds. The " march-past,^' as 

 we called it, generally commenced about six, and continued 

 with unabated zest till we turned in about 10.30 and heard 

 no more. In spite of the tempting shots they offered, we 

 killed very few of these birds, only such as we required for 

 specimens ; but our men were not so sparing, for they used 

 every day to catch numbers for food (they skinned and boiled 

 them !), and took back sackfuls to Las Palmas, where, 

 when salted, they are much esteemed by the Spanish fisher- 

 men. 



The Pardela breeds late, and though during the daytime 

 we found most of the birds in pairs in their rocky nesting- 

 chambers, we never procured a single egg. Enormous 

 numbers of the young are collected by the Portuguese fisher- 

 men every autumn, being valued for their oil and downy 

 feathers ; the oil is of poor quality, and, as we were informed, 

 is chiefly used for dressing coal-sacks. The happy couples 

 greatly resent being disturbed in their nesting-cavities, and 

 unless extracted without hesitation retaliate by biting with 

 great vigour; their curved bills, with their sharp, cutting 

 edges, being apt to leave an ugly wound on those unskilled 

 in the mode of handling them. 



Though the majority pass the day in the holes in the 

 rocks, many also rest at sea, and may be seen in flocks 

 floating quietly on the surface at most hours of the day. On 

 our return journey the ' Pedro ' ran right over one of these 

 Shearwaters sleeping peacefully with its head under its 

 wing, but beyond a rough awakening it flew off apparently 

 none the worse. On several occasions, when sitting in our 



