4 r 4 THE CORMORANT. 



and ropes in the village of Buckton, we proceeded across the table- 

 land to the Raincliff, which forms a perpendicular wall to the ocean. 

 140 yards high. Whilst I was descending this precip ! ce, thousands 

 of guillemots and razorbills enlivened the interesting scene. Some 

 were going down to the water ; others were ascending from it ; while 

 every ledge of the rock, as far as my eye could reach, was literally 

 covered with birds of the same species. The cormorants stayed not 

 to witness my unwelcome descent unto their ancient and almost 

 inaccessible settlement. They all took wing as soon as we reached 

 the edge of the cliff, and went far away to sea. It was a difficult 

 matter to procure their eggs, for the nests were built in places where 

 rocks overhang them ; and it was only by my giving the rope a swinging 

 motion, and then taken advantage of it, as it brought me to the face 

 of the cliff, that I was enabled to get a footing on the ledges which 

 contained them. These nests were composed of thick sticks, plants 

 from the rocks, grass, ketlocks which had gone to seed, and a little 

 wool. There were four young birds in one, three eggs in another, 

 two in a third, and one, newly-laid, in a fourth. The shell of the 

 cormorant's eggs is incrusted with a white chalky substance, which is 

 easily scraped off with your penknife, and then you get at the true 

 colour of the shell ; the outside of which is of a whitish green ; 

 and the inside of a green, extremely delicate and beautiful. The 

 egg is oblong in shape, and you will find it small for the size of the 

 bird. The four young cormorants were unfledged, and covered with 

 a black down. Their long necks, and long wing-bones, gave them a 

 grotesque, and almost hideous appearance. They would have been 

 of service to the renowned Callot, when he was making his celebrated 

 sketch of the " Temptations of St Anthony." There came from the 

 nests a fetid smell, so intolerable, that you might have fancied you 

 had got among Virgil's Harpies ; or that you were inhaling exhalations 

 from the den of Cacus. Nothing could have been more distressing 

 to your nasal sensibilities. 



It is remarkable that on the Raincliff not a kittiwake is seen to 

 alight ; and scarcely ever observed to fly close past it. I saw no 

 signs that this bird had ever made its nest here. An attentive natu- 

 ralist, who would take up his quarters in this neighbourhood, and 

 \isit the coast every day during the breeding season, might possibly 



