THE ZooLoGist—JANUARY, 1875. 4283 
separate. After some time spent among the guillemots, we gained a grassy 
platform a little farther down, where there was a small stream of water, and 
here we got our lunch, and I blew and packed the eggs at leisure, processes 
which kept me employed fully a couple of hours, with the most glorious 
prospect spread out beneath. Just as one was beginning to let the mind drift 
away into dreamland, in so strangely wild and picturesque a scene, my worthy 
guide, who had been absent for some time, reappeared with his shirt full of 
eggs, putting a summary stop to meditation. The poor fellow almost keeps 
his family on eggs during the summer, therefore I could not blame him: 
besides—though to be sure I seldom, if it can possibly be avoided, take all 
the eggs of one nest—conscience made it needful to admit that one was 
coming home pretty well laden oneself. After this we ascended to the 
puffins’ holes in the cliffs above, and here was the most ticklish climbing of 
all, on account of the rottenness of the earth and stones, which crumbled 
away as they were touched, but for all that we contrived to procure as many 
eggs as we wanted. Some of the holes were not more than eighteen inches 
in depth, others so deep that the eggs were beyond our reach, and others 
again winding upwards or downwards to the right or to the left. In some 
instances there were two entrances to one nest, but this seems only to be 
the case where the face of the cliff being irregular a new burrow happens to 
strike the course of an old one. Occasionally the eggs were deposited upon 
grass or down or feathers, but not a few were upon bare earth. They were, 
as usual, dull white, with very faint spots of gray or brown; but several 
were so stained by the damp earth as to be quite of a rusty colour. Rabbits 
were tolerably abundant in the cliffs, therefore I had no cause to doubt my 
companion’s assertions that puffins will often seize upon the burrows of 
these animals; but for the most part the holes were dug by the birds them- 
selyes—a work, by the way, I have seen both sexes engaged in. Before 
introducing my hand into the holes I took the precaution of putting on a 
couple of thick Shetland gloves one above the other, and thus it mattered but 
little that the birds held on with their bills as fast as they liked. I have 
been told that the puffin cannot bite so severely as has been supposed; 
perhaps not, but I should not like to try. Before we left the cliffs I learned 
how it was we had not descended first of all by this route. Just in our way 
was a rock jutting out in such a manner that we had to climb over it with 
our backs projecting seaward rather beyond our feet, not at all difficult in 
ascending, owing to the excellent grasp afforded by the rough surface of the 
crag, but scarcely possible of descent when one’s legs were swinging loose 
in the air and one cannot see where to get a footing. Surmounting this we 
were soon at the end of the heathery summit among the nests of the arctic 
skua, and worked our way home, lighting upon nests of the mountain linnet 
and the wheatear, by way of contrast, to finish with.”"—P. 309. 
