4276 THE ZOOLOGIST—JANUARY, 1875. 
May was just about merging into June: there had been wind for days 
previously, but it had now fallen, and was succeeded by that long 
swell which is a sore affliction to landsmen unaccustomed to the 
sea. The arguments of this rolling swell, soft and elastic as a spring 
mattrass, were irresistible, but in defiance of our sea-sickness we 
could not but admire the thousands of birds—guillemots, razorbills, 
and puffins—ranged in rows on every ledge of rock, and all singing 
their morning hymn; but it is an oft-told tale, and I must return to 
Dr. Saxby. The fishermen tell you these birds cannot fly over 
land, and I am yet unable to understand how they fly over water; 
the wings seem utterly inadequate to the task; and as the birds ~ 
skim over the surface of the sea in little parties of ten or twenty, 
the incessant vibrations of the wings resemble those of a bee or 
a fly rather than of a heavy-bodied bird requiring powerful 
and incessant muscular exertion to bid defiance to the laws of 
gravity, even under the most favorable conditions of atmospheric 
peace. That very many fall a sacrifice to their inability to resist 
the storm is proved by the numbers often found dead along the 
shores, thus giving rise to the idea of an epidemic having raged 
among them, causing the miserable condition of the birds and the 
absence of food in their stomachs. When you handle the bird, 
living or dead, and examine it with the inquiring eye of a truth- 
seeker, you feel the inadequacy of those little wings to support 
such a body against the power of the winds and waves, and yet 
it is evident that the guillemot by natural increase retains its place 
in the system, notwithstanding its wholesale destruction by the 
boisterous elements amongst which it resides. Concerning the 
method in which the juvenile guillemot uses its hinder extremities, 
Dr. Saxby informs us that—“In running as well as in standing 
they rest upon the toes, seldom upon the tarsi; but as they attain 
their full growth the opposite is the case, their bodies having then 
probably become proportionably heavier. When a full-grown bird 
is caught and placed upon the floor, it lies upon the full length of the 
breast and endeavours to swim, making such severe exertions that 
if not removed it very soon injures both wings and feet.”—P. 287. 
Since I published a brief note on the subject I have again watched 
the birds carefully at the Zoo, and find there is every reason to 
believe a hasty opinion is likely to be erroneous, for as 1 watched 
one for a few seconds standing on its feet it suddenly retreated to 
the tarsal position, as though wearied of having maintained, even 
