THE ZooLocist—M arcu, 1872. 2987 
of one of my friends, who, striking at the bird with his empty gun, 
exclaimed, “Well! I call ¢hat impudence!” A few years since 
I saw a flock of kittiwakes tugging and pulling at some long sea- 
weed attached to the rocks, lifting it completely out of the water, as 
if trying to fly off with it. During these prevailing gales the boys 
about the Plymouth quays have caught and knocked down many 
kittiwakes with stones. 
Cry of Divers.—Mr. G. F. Mathew, in his interesting “ Orni- 
thological Notes” (Zool. S. 8. 2917), remarks on the extraordinary 
action displayed by a blackthroated diver when fired at. I have 
had some experience in diver shooting, and have invariably found 
that when a diver thrusts forward its neck on a level with the 
water, in the manner described, that it is mortally wounded, and is 
sure in a short time to float dead on the surface. I have also heard 
redthroated divers utter their melancholy cry when wounded, even 
after having been taken into the boat. This cry is very similar to 
that made when calling to each other on the water or flying over- 
head. Razorbills often croak loudly when wounded. With respect 
to the cry of the diver, I will mention a circumstance which hap- 
pened to myself when quite a boy, and one which I shall never 
forget. Observing a large northern diver fishing in a rather small 
bay, and having a gun with me, I managed to get together a crew 
of small boys, gave chase in a boat and knoeked it over, apparently, 
quite dead on the water. We then got it into the boat, and laid it 
out with great care on the stern seats. On landing I took the bird 
by the legs, and proceeded to carry it home in great triumph; but, 
to my horror, when going through the town, it seemed to quite 
recover, and persisted in uttering its mournful cry all through the 
streets. Being followed by a large crowd expressing pity for the 
poor bird, and crying, I fear, “shame” upon me, I| did not know 
what to do, but would gladly have put it into the water again had 
it not been severely wounded in the head and neck. Wishing to 
get home as quickly as possible under the circumstances, the con- 
stant stoppages I was subjected to from people who wanted to 
know the name of the bird annoyed me exceedingly; and when 
I told them, the answer was, “ Northern diver! oh, what a shame!” 
Among the people who inquired was a Polish count, who not being 
able to speak or understand English well, could not comprehend 
the word “diver,” but still persisted in knowing; when, after 
making all manner of motions with my hands to represent diving, 
