'2426 The Zoologist — January, 1871. 



abundance, and a puffin, fresh killed, with the head off and half 

 plucked. INIac says the male brings the birds when the female is 

 silting, and that she plucks them away from the nest. Eight yards 

 further on is the nest, with the young one cowering down as it sees 

 us approach. The nest consists of two or three small pieces of 

 heather-stalk laid on a dry corner of the ledge, where the grass has 

 been scraped off. Close below, and within six or eight yards, are 

 several pairs of razorbills, which fly off" on our approach. The 

 nest is in a very perilous position, — the narrowest possible ledge of 

 rock, with bare hold for the fingers, — and il is with breathless 

 suspense that I watch Mac nimbly climb the last two yards and 

 take the egg and young bird and place them in his bosom, while 

 both the parent birds dash with wild erics of rage, just grazing his 

 liead, and they follow us every step till we reach the lighthouse, 

 which is close to the precipice. 



Towards evening INIac, ray brother and I walk to the north end 

 of the island, where the land slopes gradually into the sea, ter- 

 minating in a reef of rocky islets, where the storm petrel is said to 

 breed, but we did not observe any. We explore several caves and 

 find many pairs of rock pigeons, with young in various states of 

 growth. Walking to the north-east end, we explore the reef, and 

 find several nests of the oystercatcher, and two of the herring gull 

 built upon the rock ; and a flock of ringed plover are flying back- 

 wards and forwards, but we do not find any of their eggs. 



At the landing stage, where the refuse of fish is cast, are many 

 kitliwakes, mostly in adult plumage, which, being seldom interfered 

 with, are very tame ; and several herring gulls are also on the look 

 out for food. A few pairs of " gera-brec," as they call the black 

 guillemot, are diving off" the lower cliffs, and odd pairs of "scarts," 

 or green cormorants, arc fishing near. 



We return to the lighthouse by the west side of the island, 

 gradually ascending till we conae to the burial-place, facing the 

 Atlantic, and a wilder grave-yard could scarcely be found, the rude 

 blocks of stone, all lichen-covered and worn, guarding the tombs 

 of the old sea kings, who in life battled with the wind and waves, 

 which ever chant their lullaby. Close under the burial-ground the 

 land slopes quickly into a deep chasm, with grassy sides, on which 

 myriads of puffins are breeding. This corner of the island seems 

 entirely devoted to the puffins, which are here in thousands. It is 

 a ludicrous sight to see the little fellows emerge from their burrows 



