MODERN CLIFF-DWELLERS 



frequently falling fragments, we climbed up the pile 

 of loose rocks that sloped at a steep incline of more 

 than forty-five degrees, and got about half way up 

 the cliff. There we could see a number of the 

 nests of the Raven, platforms of crooked sticks, 

 placed on ledges of the rocks or at the entrance of 

 small caves. One nest in particular was very large, 

 almost like an Osprey's. None seemed to be lower 

 down than somewhat above the top of the pile of 

 debris, and the upper ones were not over fifteen feet 

 or so below the summit of the cliff. Some of the 

 young fishermen, I am told, think nothing of 

 climbing down a rope to get Ravens' eggs. For 

 my part I felt no inclination to try it, as, mid-way 

 on the cliff, I gazed up and down the dizzy height, 

 and finally picked my way down the rocks. Of 

 course by this time the young were all awing, as 

 the eggs are laid in the latter part of March or 

 early in April. 



There was no possibility here of reaching the 

 nests of the Black Guillemot, but, fortunately, they 

 were less inaccessible in certain other places. All 

 over the Magdalen Islands scattered pairs nest in the 

 caves that the sea washes out in the sandstone banks or 

 cliffs. In one cave near our headquarters a pair had 

 their two handsome spotted eggs on the bare rock 

 of a little shelf, about as high as one could reach 

 above the water. The only way to get at them was 

 on a very calm day to row a boat right into the 

 cave. As the inevitable swell rolled in after the 

 boat, suggesting the effect that a larger wave might 

 produce, the inclination was not unnatuial to get 

 out of the uncanny place as quickly as possible. 



85 



