CHAPTER IV 



A SEABIRDS' ISLAND IN MAY 



ON a fertile island lying a little way into the Irish Sea 

 seabirds in their thousands congregate during the 

 season of their nesting, so that the air here resounds 

 with their cries, and over the surf that breaks upon the rocks 

 puffins and guillemots fly in never-ending streams throughout 

 the hours of daylight. 



It is in April that the birds arrive off the island — for at 

 first they do not visit the land — ^and by mid-May the majority 

 are busy with nesting cares. 



It was on the sixteenth day of the latter month that I paid 

 my first visit to the island. Early in the morning mist lay 

 thick over the sea, but with the gathering strength of the sun 

 this had cleared away before we set sail, and the island stood 

 out before us distinct against the northern horizon. 



Solan geese made their way past our boat on tireless 

 wings, shearwaters dipped with most graceful flight through 

 the southerly swell, and sea swallows fished daintily, stoop- 

 ing with sharp cries and unswerving aim on the surface-feed- 

 ing fry. Strings of guillemots crossed our track, making for 

 their fishing grounds and flying, as is their custom, only a 

 few inches above the water's surface; but it was not until we 

 had anchored beneath the dark rocks of the island that the 

 first puffins were seen. Landing in one of the sheltered bays 

 — for the south wind blew strong — a short walk took me to the 

 hill-top, where, on the cairn, the peregrine is wont to sun 

 himself, and where in the heather and bramble plants stone- 

 chats rear their broods, and whitethroats flit noiselessly as 

 they busy themselves at their nest-making. Great fields of 



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