THE SKELLIGS AND SEA-FOWL. 259 



To see the cells we must descend as far again as 

 the Windy Gap, cross a valley, ascend some fifty cut 

 steps, crossing above the Blue Cave, so called from 

 the colour of its water, on our way ; in this cave there 

 are vast numbers of sea-fowl, Kittiwakes, Guillemots, 

 and Razor-bills ; Puffins studding the sides from base 

 to summit. Some 50 feet from the entrance is a 

 round hole, 9 feet across, called the Oven, literally 

 swarming with Guillemots. Continuing our way to 

 the cells, we come to a long, level, narrow rock, 

 of curiously rough surface ; it is as if the small ripples 

 of a duck pond had been suddenly turned into stone. 

 Penance by the country people is to this day per- 

 formed here on their bare knees. Starting at one 

 end of this rock, they complete their pilgrimage at the 

 other, often with cut and bleeding skin. Here is 

 some rough ground. " Chip purre ! Chip purre ! " pro- 

 ceeds from under the stones at our feet. We turn 

 one over and discover a small dusky-coloured bird 

 hatching her three white eggs. On taking her 

 in the hand she promptly ejects an oily fluid of 

 most unsavoury odour from the bill. This is the 

 Storm Petrel, or Mother Carey's Chicken. The 

 male only visits land at night to feed the female ; 

 the latter never leaves the nest till her task of incu- 

 bation is finished. 



The males keep a mile or so from shore by day, 

 for if they approach land they are instantly chased 

 and swallowed whole by the Great Black-backed 

 Gulls. It is no unusual thing to see these pirates, 

 as well as the Herring Gull, sweep along the cliff 

 and knock the unhappy Razor-bills and Guillemots 

 off their eggs as they sit on the exposed ledges. 



s 2 



