Tue ZooLoGist—JANUARY, 1875. 4287 
a wounded goldeneye which had alighted in the water, and was letting itself 
drift, with the tide, three great blackbacks came sailing over, and, to my 
great surprise, one of them made a sudden stoop at the wounded bird. The 
duck tried to dive, but was unable, and the gull instantly seized it by the back 
part of the neck, rose with it a few feet, and let it fall again into the water. 
Another of the gulls then repeated the same process twice, and when the 
unfortunate duck lay motionless upon the water, apparently dead, all three 
took to charging it with their bills, tearing out the feathers at each stroke, 
and paying not the smallest attention to my shouts, only going off when 
I fired a barrel in their direction to scare them away. On another occasion, 
at the Flugga Lighthouse, a storm petrel which had been but slightly 
injured by flying against the lantern, and had been kept alive for some days, 
managed to make its escape. As it descended towards the sea, a great 
blackbacked gull dashed forward, and seizing the poor little thing in its bill, 
disappeared with it in the cliff beneath.”—P. 346. 
Hermaness, the scene of that memorable crag climbing for puffin’s 
eggs, is also that of finding the eggs of the “bonxie” or great skua. 
Who does not recollect the “ bonxie” painted by Hook in last year’s 
exhibition, and the sea clothed in colours that will bear comparison 
with nothing but its own? Such an artist as Hook should accom- 
pany such a naturalist as Saxby in all his wanderings; and such a 
painter should always be at hand to preserve and photograph in 
colour the wild and beautiful scenery amongst which the naturalist 
makes his observations: such a happy combination of talent is 
rarely, perhaps never, to be attained. And now, returning to the 
nesting-place of the bonxies, I make my final extract, fully uniting 
with the author’s lamentation over the departing race, and also 
regretting that with the author himself I must now part company 
for ever. All honour to his memory! Peace to his ashes! 
“My own specimens of the eggs were taken one May morning at Her- 
maness, where some years ago as many as fifty or sixty pairs might be seen, 
instead of the five or six pairs, now reduced still lower. Indeed even the 
very few which remain will soon disappear if no means are taken to preserve 
them from the lighthouse people, strangers to Shetland, who gather eggs of 
all kinds, and either eat them or wantonly destroy them. When we arrived 
at the breeding-ground we heard the low croaking sound made by a skua as 
it flew directly before us, and had we followed the bird we should have lost 
all chance of finding the nest, but we stood quite still, and the bird suddenly 
wheeled and made a wide circle round us, keeping rather close to the ground. 
We immediately separated, and walked in opposite directions, whereupon the 
bird kept nearer to me than to my companion, and it thus became evident 
