CHAP. xx. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. 251 



his collection of rare birds shot in Heligoland for those 

 which had passed over the island without being obtained. 

 It is probable, however, that the latter bear a much smaller 

 proportion to the former in Heligoland than in any other 

 place. The fact is that this little island is the only part of 

 the world of which the ornithology has been properly worked. 

 Every little boy on the island is a born and bred orni- 

 thologist. Every unfortunate bird which visits the island 

 has to rim the gauntlet of about forty guns, to say nothing 

 of scores of blowpipes and catapults. The flight and note of 

 every bird is familiar to every islander. Each bird has its 

 own local name in the Heligoland language. A new bird is 

 instantly detected. The fisherman steers with a gun by his 

 side ; the peasant digs his potatoes with a gun on the turf, 

 and a heap of birds on his coat. On an island where there 

 are no cows, and sheep are kept for their milk only, meat is 

 of course very dear, especially as it has to be brought by 

 steamer from Hamburg, one of the dearest cattle-markets 

 on the continent of Europe. Birds therefore naturally form 

 an important article of diet to the Heligolanders. Every 

 bird which appears is whistled within range with marvellous 

 skill. The common birds are eaten, the rare ones sold to 

 the bird-stuffer, and the new ones taken to Gatke. Many 

 of the Heligolanders are clever shots. Long before sunrise 

 the island is bristling with guns ; and after dark the netters 

 are busy at their throstle-bushes; whilst at midnight the 

 birds commit suicide against the lighthouse. When we 

 consider that this has been going on for a quarter of a 

 century, and that the results have been carefully chronicled 



