210 THE ZOOLOGIST. 
to carry him up again to a height equal to or greater than that from which 
he started. In this up and down long wave-like motion, with all its varia- 
tions on either side, consists the whole of his flight day after day for 
hundreds of miles ; at long irregular intervals he may give a few lazy flaps 
with his immense wings, Other birds use the mode of flight of the 
Albatross, but to a smaller extent, for the reason, in the case of smaller 
birds, that, the ratio of featbers to bulk being greater, their specific gravity 
is less, consequently they are unable to acquire the degree of momentum 
necessary to carry them upward; but on the other hand they have the 
power of sustained effort in moving their wings rapidly, which the Albatross 
has not. Gravitation then, which prevents him from rising directly on the 
wing, is the motive power of the Albatross when aloft. He must always 
take a run or paddle over the surface of the water in order to get a start, and 
on the land or the deck he is a prisoner, because he has no water in which 
to paddle himself along with his webbed feet, and he is unable to run. 
Instead of being assisted by the wind, his speed is lessened by just so much 
as the wind’s velocity, when it happens that the direction of the wind and 
his intended course are opposed to each other, but with the wind his speed 
is just so much greater than it would be in a calm. I do not advance this 
explanation as an imaginative theory. I claim more for it. I have had 
many opportunities of studying the movements of the Albatross for 
consecutive days, and I feel confident that the above will be found to 
answer all required conditions. — Howarp Sarcenr (Cambridge, U.S.), 
in ‘ Nature.’ 
Winter Brrps near Rercaru, Surrey.—The following are a few 
brief notes from Gatton, in Surrey, which may perhaps be of interest to 
readers of ‘The Zoologist,’ although not containing anything very im- 
portant. On New Year’s Day I saw a Hawfinch, the first I have observed 
at Gatton. It was near a fine yew,—one of a line said to have extended 
in byegone days to the pilgrims’ shrine at Canterbury,—but which in this 
berryless season had no provision of fruit on it. On January 5th I saw 
two drake Pochards on the lake. On the 12th the weather suddenly 
changed, sharp frost set in, and a large flock of Redwings made their 
appearance; the Waterhens showed signs of uneasiness, and the Wood 
Pigeons, which had hitherto been in great flocks, began to go. On the 
13th there were twenty-seven Wild Ducks on the lake, and Wild Geese 
were heard passing over. On the 14th it was all frozen, and an ornitho- 
logical scene presented itself. In the middle forty-three Coots huddled 
together on the ice, while in a little hole which had been kept open for the 
Swans four Little Grebes were bobbing up and down. On the 15th we 
had over 20°, and the whole lake bore. The number of ducks had 
increased to thirty, while the Coots dashed wildly about at the approach of 
