THE ZooLocist—JuNE, 1872. 3093 ~ 
their rapid motions imparting an air of liveliness and gaiety to the 
rocky wave-worn coast-line, or the placid waters of the deep inland 
lake. It is usually classed as a sea bird, yet, although it frequents 
our coasts and harbours, it is to be observed a great way inland, 
and, taking the width of the island into consideration, a very long 
distance from the sea; we have noticed it to the west of Lake 
Coleridge. Except during the breeding season, it may be said to 
pass rather a solitary life; its favourite post, where obtainable, 
is the outstretched limb of some blasted tree on the verge of the 
bush, or a ledge of rock near to a stream or lake; but although 
thus solitary, it is by no means to be considered shy or timid; it 
does not “fly the haunts of men.” We have often observed it 
perched on the lofty chimneys of the public buildings in Christ- 
church; two years since a mass of its nesting materials was cleared 
away from some part of the roof. 
This ruthless desecration of the lares and penates did not cause 
the abandonment of the settlement ; with the clear sparkling Avon 
flowing immediately below, the situation was too good a one to be 
forsaken without the display of more active hostilities. These 
favourite posts still continue to be frequently occupied, notwith- 
standing that birds are sometimes shot there, for the protection of 
the young trout, with the acclimatisation of which our silent fisher 
unwisely interferes. 
Its flight occasionally is very lofty, seldom very straight; from 
watching its progress whilst soaring or wheeling aloft, one might 
imagine it to be trying “ great circle sailing;” it approaches and 
glides to its perch with sweeping curves rather than by a direct 
course; its appearance is the signal for alarm amongst all poultry 
within reasonable distance, yet it is harmless and peaceable except 
where fish are concerned. After much occupation on or in the 
water, it has a knack of drying its feathers in a peculiar manner, 
which gives it a most grotesque appearance; it stands, say on a 
sunlit rock, stretching out its quivering wings horizontally, till it 
really looks not at all unlike the old-fashioned sign of the “spread 
eagle.” 
Its activity in the pursuit of its finny prey is indeed remarkable, 
and, as is well known, in some countries led to the taming of the 
bird for the purpose of rendering this dexterity of service to man: 
one of the old offices in the royal household of England was that 
of Master of the Cormorants. 
SECOND SERIES—VOL. VII. 2F 
