MODERN CLIFF-DWELLERS 



were only some ten feet or so from the cliff, and 

 passing close to the birds. First, if I remember 

 rightly, were some Kittiwakes, each on a little nest 

 of sea-weed, built very cleverly and secur-ely on to 

 some slight projection or niche of the cliff. Some 

 of the occupants sat still, others stood up, revealing 

 two spotted eggs, or, in a few cases, newly-hatched 

 downy young, while one or two took to flight. 

 Off on the left was a long array of great white 

 Gannets, nesting on a ledge. Directly in front of 

 us, a little higher up, we passed a great mass of 

 Murres. On both sides were birds, anywhere and 

 everywhere they could find a footing. Here and 

 there a Razor-billed Auk peered out from a recess 

 of the rock, watching our progress. 



The crate was all the time turning around from 

 the twisting of the cable, but so slowly that I did 

 not mind it at all. The whole episode seemed like 

 a dream, it was so soon over. In five minutes we 

 rose in sight of the green-sward at the top, and saw 

 two men and two women labouring at the crank, 

 the latter with flushed faces. Then they swung 

 the derrick-arm in over the land, where we got out 

 to meet the keeper, Capt. Peter Bourque, who gave 

 us a most royal welcome, and introduced us to the 

 members of his family who were staying with 

 him on the Rock at this time a grown-up son, 

 daughter and niece. 



The sun was now bright, so my friend and I took 

 our cameras and started forth to view this new 

 world of bird-life. There was the schooner already 

 sailing away, and North Bird Rock out beyond, 

 nearly a mile to the westward, appearing as two 



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