1 22 S TRA Y FEA THERS FROM MANY BIRDS. 



Cormorants have established themselves on a flat isolated 

 rock some distance from all the other islands. 



The first island we visit is sacred to the Terns. As we 

 furl the big brown sail and lower our mast, the frightened 

 birds approach and hover in the air above our boat. 

 Then as we row the short remaining distance the noise of 

 our oars in the rowlocks startles numbers of Terns from 

 the rough shingly beach, and every moment the throng 

 of shrieking birds is increased. Our landing is the signal 

 for direst alarm among the Arctic Terns, which have their 

 colony on the beach. These pretty birds make no nest, 

 but lay their three or four eggs in a hollow amongst the 

 shingle, or between the larger pebbles. These eggs are 

 very pretty objects, buff and olive of various shades, 

 mottled and spotted with rich dark brown. So thickly 

 are the eggs strewing the ground in some places that it 

 is almost impossible to walk along without treading on 

 them, especially as they very closely resemble the beach 

 on which they rest. As we wander towards the centre of 

 the island we come across a second colony of nests. 

 These belong to the Common Tern, which almost in- 

 variably places its eggs much farther from the water than 

 its congener, and generally scrapes together a few bits of 

 dry herbage into the semblance of a nest. The eggs 

 are very similar in colour to those of the Arctic Tern, but 

 are a little larger and rounder. All the time we are 

 inspecting these interesting colonies, the noisy Terns in a 



