218 LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTH AMERICAN DIVING BIRDS 



Mr. Ekblaw says: 



The eggs are quite uniform in size, and also in color. Most of them are a 

 pale blue, the blue being but a tinge. From this pale blue type they vary in 

 both directions slightly, to quite white and to pale robin-egg blues. However, 

 most of the eggs are a typical pale-blue color. Though not a precocial bird the 

 dovekie lays an abnormally large egg, so large, in fact, in proportion to the 

 size of the bird that the mother could with difficulty and little success keep 

 more than one egg warm. The shell of the egg is so thick that the inside must 

 be cooled slowly when the old birds leave the nest. I can not state that the 

 male takes part in the incubation, but I have seen whichever bird it is that is 

 not on the eggs, come to the entrance of the nest and enter with his pouch 

 distended with food, in the same manner as it is later when the young are 

 being fed, so I presume that the food is for the incubating bird, male or female. 

 The eggs do not always mature. I have found many that had spoiled and not 

 hatched. Some of these were probably old eggs of former years, but about 1 

 egg in 10 was spoiled. 



Young. The young begin hatching about the middle of July, and from then 

 almost until the last week in August some are being hatched, though the most 

 of them hatch about the middle of August, or a little before. They at once 

 become voraciously hungry, and tax the energies of both parents to satisfy 

 them, even though the day be 24 hours light. The young birds, as soon as they 

 hear any noise outside the entrance, set up an impatient shrill chirping, which 

 continues until the old bird feeds them by disgorging into their bills the con- 

 tents of its well-filled pouch. The consoling, soothing murmur of the old bird 

 to the young, and the satisfied chirping of the young shows how solicitous the 

 one is, and how grateful the other. The birds of adjacent nests often leave 

 and arrive together; when they come with a great rush of wings, they usually 

 alight together in a group on some prominent large rock near their nests, and 

 then after a survey of the vicinity, hop or fly to their respective entrances. 

 Before leaving, they gather together similarly. 



The first birds come off the nest about the middle of August, and the last 

 not until the last of the month, so that the latest departures from the nesting 

 sites are those retarded by their belated young. Thus after the great number 

 are gone south, a few still remain a few days these belated young and their 

 parents. On August 24, 1915, when I went up on the slopes along the fjord 

 to collect young and old birds for the winter's food, the birds had already 

 begun leaving, so that the number was noticeably diminished. The departure 

 continued constantly through the day, great flocks rising over the south cliffs 

 and passing out of sight southward. The following day the most of those 

 remaining left, and this was the day of the greatest exodus. On the 25th we 

 found most of the young gone, though a number remained, and of these several 

 had not yet developed the wing feathers needed for their flight, and could not 

 leave for at least a week or 10 days yet. Many of the young were leaving 

 the nest. Apparently when they are sufficiently developed they emerge from 

 their nest and impelled by an instinctive impulse essay the first flight; I could 

 not see that any coaxing was resorted to by the older birds. The young bird 

 waddled awkwardly about the rocks, watched not only by his own parents but 

 by all the old birds as well. From time to time he would stretch and flap his 

 wings, and then finally when those about him rose in flight he, too, took to his 

 wings. He quickly fell behind the most; but at least one, sometimes two, old 

 birds stuck by him. His flight was awkward, and he could easily be distin- 

 guished in his erratic course, from the old birds. Some of the weaker ones 



