26 THE BOOK OF MIGRATORY BIRDS 



but not whilst I was on the island. A friend sent me one 

 later. I saw the usual family of shore birds, small flocks 

 of ring-plovers, dunlin, and oyster-catchers. To my great 

 disappointment, I saw no turnstones, nor purple sand- 

 pipers. Redshanks were common, and made the same 

 jerking motions that I had seen them make in the breeding 

 season. 



What most impressed me was the enormous number of 

 wigeon, like the geese, out at sea at high tide. 



On one occasion I turned my glass on a seeming black 

 reef, and discovered it to be a dense mass of these birds, 

 resting. They simply "blackened the sea," as remarked 

 by a fisherman, and when they rose it was as a dark 

 cloud. Compared with such multitudes, the half-dozen or 

 so shot each night hardly amounted to the proverbial 

 "drop in the bucket." 



Of land birds I saw few, as might have been expected 

 on such a shelterless, wind-swept island. A few thrushes 

 hopped with a disconsolate alien air, and among them 

 was a fieldfare, whose fellows had doubtless distributed 

 themselves over the mainland. 



The meadow pipits were there, and remarkably tame, 

 probably having been starved down through the stress of 

 weather. On the ruins of the famous Lindisfarne Priory 

 were perched appropriately a party of jackdaws, and on 

 the Castle wall was always a starling, which whistled 

 shrilly in the wind. 



A dead Godwit brought in by a gunner was the only 

 specimen I saw, though a good writer, Mr. Abel Chap- 

 man, mentions it is common as a winter bird, in this 

 place. 



I close this rough sketch, well knowing that the short- 

 ness of my sojourn prevented me from seeing many 

 interesting specimens of bird life on this true haunt of 

 the birds. 



