1366 The Zoologist— September, 1868. 



perfect order round a lovely little bay, the top of each column being 

 broken off, and each supporting the nest of a gannet with the adult 

 bird sitting. A superb sight it is to see hundreds of the snow-white 

 birds sitting on their nests, from close to your feet down the whole side 

 of the rock to the water's edge, and to hear their discordant and 

 deafening cries, till one is almost bewildered. At our approach the 

 nearest gannets fly off their nests, but keeping close round and uttering 

 their guttural cackle. Alarmed at our continued shouting the whole 

 legion of birds leave their ledges and whirl round and round thick as 

 snow-flakes in the winter wind, until one's eyes are almost dazed with 

 their flight, and one is fain obliged to retreat from the edge of the 

 precipice. They gradually settle down again, and in the calm and 

 lovely evening, it is an interesting sight to watch their mates flying 

 from afar across the deep blue sea, their long black-tipped white wings 

 glancing in ihe setting sun, as they near the craig, when, wheeling in 

 the air, they perch beside their mates, who welcome them with a 

 satisfied cackle, which changes to a choking gulp as they swallow the 

 fish which their partners have disgorged. And to see them from on 

 high plunge, with the speed of thought, into the blue-green sea 

 beneath, dashing up the spray as they dive after their finny prey ! 

 With what force they descend, and how marvellously their bodies are 

 adapted for the plunge ! Many of the gannets have built their nests 

 on the verge of the precipices, and some a few feet down on the tops 

 of the octagonal columns, and cautiously stopping down I examine 

 their nests : they are of large size and mostly made of coarse campion- 

 stalks, fern-leaves, sea-weed, &c, lined with finer grass and weed, and 

 in each one large egg, which, being nearly the end of the hatching- 

 season, are soiled and much pecked at. In a few nests further down 

 I observe several newly-hatched wee gannets, totally black, with a 

 downy powder like the germs of feathers. In several eggs the young 

 are squeaking through the holes which the parent bird has chipped. 

 I break the shell and liberate several astonished youngsters, much to 

 the discomfiture of the old folks, who hover round cackling most 

 ferociously. The young when just hatched have a curious look, little 

 black imps with a big head, fat body and tiny webbed feet sprawling 

 about the nest. They are perfectly bald, about four inches long, and 

 very lively. The gannets here are much wilder than those at the 

 Bass, where they allow themselves to be approached and even 

 handled; but woe betide the hand that is gripped! they bite to the 

 bone. A long time we linger by the haunts of the gannets, watching 



