18 Brewster on Terns of the New England Coast. 



My first visit to Muskegat was in 1870. It was about the 25th 

 of June when we landed on the island, and three days were spent in 

 investigating its fauna. Although the fishermen told us that the 

 Terns had been diminishing for years, their numbers at that time, 

 nevertheless, were astonishing. The Arctic Terns wei'e breeding 

 apart in a separate colony, on a long, narrow strip of sand, while 

 the Common and Roseate Terns intermingled freely, oftentimes 

 placing their nests side by side. Little preference seemed to be 

 accorded by the last two species to any given locality. Their eggs 

 were as often laid upon the windrows of sea-weed at high-water 

 mark, as among the ivy-vihes on the sand-hills. Indeed, they were 

 scattered everywhere, and the birds that were breeding there must 

 have been numbered by hundreds of thousands. The sight was 

 a novel and impressive one. Overhead, at varying heights, 

 swarms of Terns were passing and repassing, crossing each other's 

 flight in mazy lines. From the birds just skimming the crests of the 

 sand-hills to the white specks floating thousands of feet above the 

 earth in the blue sky, the air was filled with their countless num- 

 bers. Hundreds were continually rising from their nests and mak- 

 ing out to sea, or returning from the fishing-grounds, each with a 

 small fish held crossways in its bill. 



On one occasion that I remember, a black thunder-cloud rose out 

 of the sea, in the north, and the white birds hovering over the island 

 were brought out in striking contrast to the dark background. It 

 was as if the air were filled with snowflakes. The noise was sim- 

 ply deafening, especially when the birds became aware of our pres- 

 ence. As we advanced, their sitting mates rose from the nests in 

 clouds, swelling the throng of anxious parents over our heads, each 

 bird adding its shrill voice to the general din. Yet amid all this 

 confusion they took good care to keep beyond gun range. Occa- 

 sionally, however, an exception to this occun'ed, and a daring bird 

 darted down into our very faces. High overhead all the time a 

 number of Black-headed Gulls {Lams atricilla) floated in graceful 

 circles, adding their shrill demoniac laughter to the weird chorus. 



If a Tern were shot, the eftect was instantaneous and startling. 

 Every voice was at once hushed, hundreds of long narrow wings 

 were set, and troops of gliding arrowy forms SAvept down in silence 

 to the fallen victim. From the sky above, from every nook and 

 corner of the neighboring sand-hills, they came hurrying to the spot. 

 Then, as if at a given signal, every bird burst out afresh in cries of 



