Birds. 9655 



Ornithological Notes from Flamhorough. By John Cordeaux, Esq. 



Last year I sent a few short notes to the ' Zoologist ' (Zool. 9243), 

 on the birds seen during a visit made in July to this famous Yorkshire 

 headland. I therefore venture again to offer sorae further remarks ou 

 the Ornithology of Flamhorough, from notes taken during a short visit 

 there with a friend in the last week in April. 



On the 24th of April, at 2.30, we arrived at our comfortable and 

 quiet quarters in Tliornwick's Hotel, within a short distance of that 

 romantic little bay known as the North landing-place. It was a bitter 

 cold day, the wind north and a dreary gray sky, harmonising, however, 

 with the bleak and wintry appearance of the headland. The hedge- 

 rows and few stunted trees on this the north side of the promontory 

 showing, compared with what we had seen on our journey down, but 

 little indications of spring time. 



On our way from the Marton station I kept a sharp look out for any 

 of our summer warblers, but none were to be seen ; two or three 

 yellowharamers and a pair of blue titmice being the only result of a 

 somewhat close inspection of the hedgerows. 



The North landing-place at Flamborough is alone worth a visit. On 

 a steep inchne running down to the beach, and out of reach of the 

 heavy surf, are drawn up the boats the property of the fishermen, who 

 compose almost the entire population of the neighbouring village. 

 Perhaps no portion of the coast exceeds in beauty this lovely bay. 

 Both on its eastern and western sides the ceaseless work of the wave 

 has excavated in the base of the limestone cliffs deep caves and holes: 

 some of these caves or " Robin Lythe's Holes," are of considerable 

 extent and beauty, and well worth the trouble of exploring. It was 

 high water when we reached the landing-place, and a heavy sea was 

 breaking over the reef at the entrance of the bay. The boom of the 

 heavy waves was re-echoed again and again from the deep caverns, 

 while the foam was hurled far up the sides of the rugged cliffs. Out 

 to seaward, ridge beyond ridge of white crested waves promised us as 

 yet but little prospect of our intended boating excursion along the 

 coast. Flying backwards and forwards, with slow and stately motion 

 over the bay, were thirty or forty herring gulls, the greater portion birds 

 of the last year in their dark immature garb, the remainder old birds 

 in full summer plumage. Now one, now another, would dash suddenly 

 downwards, and rescuing from the foam some morsel of floating matter, 

 resume its stately wheeling flight. Amongst the herring gulls was a 

 solitary kittiwake, its light graceful flight and pure unsullied plumage 



