THE BIRDS OF THE BERMUDAS. 491 
Mr. Harford, 56th Regiment, some distance from the shore, on the 
30th June, 1853. Mr. Bartram’s collection contains a specimen. 
I am not aware that this species has ever been found breeding in 
Bermuda. I searched in vain for nests, but should not be surprised 
to hear of them being discovered there some day or other. 
Puffinus major, Wandering Shearwater.—Two recorded by 
Mr. Hurdis were taken alive on the 2nd June, 1851, near Hamilton. 
Mr. Bartram has one example in the dark plumage, which, though 
probably only a special state of P. major, has led to the creation 
of the species P. fuliginosus, or Sooty Shearwater. 
Puffinus anglorum, Manx Shearwater.—A specimen in Mr. Bar- 
tram’s collection, captured while sitting on its solitary egg in 
a rocky hole on the south shore some years ago, is, I think, 
clearly referable here. The egg was unfortunately broken. There 
is no record of the bird’s breeding on any other occasion, nor of 
any other specimens being obtained; but it is quite possible that 
it, as well as Wilson’s Petrel and other Procellaride, may formerly 
have frequented the islands in numbers, and that an occasional 
pair may revisit their old haunts. Such birds would, from their 
crepuscular habits, be but little noticed. 
Puffinus obscurus, Dusky Shearwater.—Since Mr. Hurdis, in 
1849, identified the “ Cahow” or “ Cowhow” of the historians of 
Bermuda with this interesting species, very few observations have 
been made on the few pairs still frequenting the islands. That the 
poor “ Cahow” has almost ceased to breed there is a melancholy 
fact. Formerly it was plentiful, and even within the last fifteen 
years, Mr. Bartram informs me, there were many nests in the 
isolated rocks, both on the north and south shores. On the north 
side the bird was formerly called “ Pemblyco” or “ Pimlico,” 
probably from its call-note, while on the southern shores the 
name “Cahow” or “ Cowhow” was applied to it. I found two 
nests in 1874, each containing a single young bird, one of which 
I kept alive for about six weeks, intending to send him to the 
Zoological Society's Gardens in London; but before I got an 
opportunity of doing so the unfortunate bird died. He had 
become remarkably tame, following me about the house and 
garden, waddling along awkwardly enough on his tarsi, and 
uttering a musical “chirrup” the while. He used to sit under 
the table where I was writing, pecking away at my boots, and 
apparently extremely happy. I fed him on fish, and gave him 
