9613 Births. 



Howlh about a mile, and I thought of giving up, as I saw the land 

 receding frora rae, a punt being a poor look out against a westerly 

 breeze ; he, however, made in for shore, and gave me my first shot at 

 Sallhill, after a row of two hours and a half, pulling my best ; my hand 

 shaking I missed him. We now dodged witliin a circle of a hundred 

 yards diameter for twenty minutes (my watch I always hang in the 

 stern), but, seeing I was as 'cute as himself, he made away again, took 

 me into Kingstown Harbour, iu and out among the shipping, lill at last, 

 poor fellow, he acknowledged I was his master, came up within twenty 

 yards of me, uttered a prolonged cry and turned over on his side, when 

 1 shot him. In twenty-four hours afterwards he was putrid, showing 

 how exhausted he must have died. This is the only case I ever knew 

 of one of these birds being totally exhausted by a single rower. I was 

 four hours hunting him, stripped to my drawers. This destroying life 

 may seem inconsistent with a naturalist's principles, but I must admit 

 that, after a fox-hunt, I give the palm to a "loon" chase, besides the 

 fair sex value the breast-feathers next to those of the grebe for making 

 muffs. Respecting the time a norllicrn diver can live under water, 

 I state the following. Having wounded a bird I could not kill him ; 

 I pressed his breast with my knee till I was tired ; still he retained life, 

 and fought as hard as ever: to hang him or wring his neck would spoil 

 him as a specimen, so 1 tied a weight to his leg and sunk him by a 

 string; in a quarter of an hour he was still alive, though submerged all 

 that time; in twenty-five minutes he was dead. 



Tlie Note of the Colynibi. — Respecting the cry of this bird, I must 

 make some remarks, in bad weather, and when flying high, its note 

 is generally "yap, yap, yau," and before wind the cry is loud, hoarse 

 and piercing, and may be rendered " gan — a — ece," the first syllable 

 deep, the last like a scream. When in fear and hard pressed, it makes 

 a sound so like a man iu agony that it might well appal the stoutest 

 heart when hearing it at night. It always brings to my recollection 

 the moans of an unfortunate slaughterman who was brought to the 

 hospital, having driven a knife through his own knee-cap instead of a 

 sheep's neck. Its call-note is soft, wild and plaintive, pronounceable 

 as "caw— w — w — e." The following story respecting its cry may be 

 interesting, as showing the superstition of the Irish peasantry and also 

 the pleasant pages of a naturalist's life in Ireland. One dark night in 

 December I went with three fishermen to raise conger-lines: there was 

 no ripple on the water, but a storm was more surely foretold by the 

 cries of the "gall-rush" than ever by Admiral FitzRoy. Occasionally 

 a cry would sound nearer the boat than usual, and one of the fishet' 



