176 NEW YORK ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 



as bold as the skimmers. Their favorite nesting site is the 

 irregular line of sea-wrack which marks the highest reach of 

 some unusually high tide. When they nest on the bare sand, a 

 few stems of reeds or grass are placed around the eggs. This is, 

 doubtless, the last remnant of some former more elaborate and 

 useful nest-building trait. 



The nestling Terns, as soon as they are dry, begin to pant from 

 the excessive heat of the sun and leave the nest at once, scram- 

 bling along until they rest under the shade of some stalk of gold- 

 enrod. Most of the young birds spend the day squatting close 

 to the ground, and only moving to welcome the approach of the 

 parents with food. They are fed on predigested fish for over a 

 week. The Terns hereabouts are called "Strikers," from the meth- 

 od of fishing of the old birds, which dash down vertically against 

 the water with a momentum which sends up a cloud of spray. At 

 night the Terns and other young beach-hatched birds take long 

 excursions. At eleven and twelve o'clock it was most interesting 

 to take a bull's-eye lantern and walk noiselessly along the shore, 

 with only a narrow swath of light to guide us. Tiny white forms 

 would occasionally scurry away, and giving chase we would soon 

 run down a young tern. It seemed strange to find such tiny help- 

 less little beings abroad in the darkness, but at the first frightened 

 peep which he tittered at being cornered, a harsh angry tear-r-r-r 

 would come from the darkness overhead, and we knew that 

 Mother Tern's sharp eyes were watching over the little fellow, 

 guarding him through all the blackness of night. 



Although secure in their island home from all four-footed ene- 

 mies, yet careful study of the lives of these young birds would 

 doubtless reveal many tragedies. 



One incident which I noticed was interesting as throwing light 

 upon a habit peculiar to many birds — that of the parent removing 

 the pieces of egg-shell as soon as the young bird has escaped. 

 The skimmers, gulls and Terns all do this. I watched one baby 

 Tern escape from his olive-hued prison, and roll wet and sprawl- 

 ing out upon the warm sand. The parent Tern was greatly dis- 

 turbed, and swooped threateningly at my head all the time I re- 

 mained. As usual, a small quantity of blood escaped from the 

 egg membranes and more remained within the shell. Hardly had 

 the youngster freed himself when a small ant appeared at the edge 

 of the nest, waved its antennae for a moment and disappeared. 

 The word had evidently been quickly passed, and scores upon 

 scores of these ferocious little creatures swarmed over the egg- 

 shell and young bird. The little fellow writhed and tried to 



