AMONG THE WATER-FOWL 



of it again. No doubt it was taking its turn 

 upon the nest. So anxious was I to learn of it 

 further that, a few days later, I made a special 

 trip again to this remote rock, only to be disap- 

 pointed. I did not see anything of it, nor had 

 any of the people noticed it. It was tantalizing 

 probably to be walking a few feet over it, and 

 yet, despite all my peering under the rocks, not to 

 discover it. 



However I was repaid for the effort by the 

 privilege of examining a few more of the fine eggs 

 of the " Sea Pigeons," each set different in mark- 

 ings and each nesting-spot chosen having some 

 interesting feature. Even with all the din of the 

 hovering Terns, we could often detect the location 

 of the nest by a peculiar rustling sound, as the incu- 

 bating bird scurried, at our approach, further under 

 the sheltering rock. Then comes the pleasure and 

 excitement of seeing if the eggs can be gotten at. 

 And what a source of enjoyment it is to sit on the 

 rocks, quite well out of sight, and see the pretty 

 creatures pass and repass, often close to one's face, 

 with that little murmuring sound, noting the green 

 gloss of the black plumage, and the coral-red legs 

 extended out behind, or dangling when their owner 

 is about to alight. Now and then a Puffin whirrs 

 by, giving variety with its grotesque, painted bill 

 and its paler orange legs. After many circlings 

 back and to, out to sea and in again, at length a 

 Guillemot alights quite near. Then another comes, 

 and presently there is quite a little group, perhaps 

 eight or ten, waddling about, or sitting in a slanting 

 attitude, not as erect as the Murres, it seemed to 



