THE WILD MOTHER 



through rookery after rookery of nesting birds, 

 until we reached the edge of the blade-like back, 

 or top, that ran up to the peak. Scrambling over 

 this edge, we found ourselves in the midst of a 

 great colony of nesting murres hundreds of 

 them covering the steep, rocky part of the 

 top. 



As our heads appeared above the rim, many 

 of the colony took wing and whirred over us out 

 to sea, but most of them sat close, each bird upon 

 her egg or over her chick, loath to leave, and so 

 expose to us her hidden treasure. 



The top of the rock was somewhat cone-shaped, 

 and in order to reach the peak, and the colonies 

 on the west side, we had to make our way through 

 this rookery of the murres. The first step among 

 them, and the whole colony was gone, with a rush 

 of wings and feet that sent several of the top- 

 shaped eggs rolling, and several of the young 

 birds toppling, over the cliff to the pounding 

 waves and the ledges far below. 



We stopped instantly. We had not come to 

 frighten and kill. Our climb up had been very 

 disturbing to the birds, and had been attended 

 with some loss of both eggs and young. This we 



