368 THE ZOOLOGIST. 



my experiences in print. Wishing to examine the breeding- 

 station of the Gannet at Grasholme Island, off the coast of 

 Pembrokeshire, I pitched my tent on Skomer Island, towards 

 the end of the first week in June last, about eight miles nearer 

 shore, the position and appearance of which has been well 

 described by the Kev. Murray A. Mathew in ' The Zoologist ' for 

 November, 1884. Not a Manx Shearwater was seen all day, 

 except one or two which swept over the waves as we were 

 crossing; but it is well known that owing to its crepuscular 

 habits, the number seen in the daytime affords little indication 

 of the proximity or otherwise of a breeding-station. 



All went well until about 9.30 p.m. We were enjoying the 

 quiet of the evening, watching the thousands of Puffins, in the 

 midst of which we were camped, flying from the edges of the 

 cliffs out to sea and back again. The island is about four miles 

 round, I should say, and I think that of all I have ever visited, it 

 would take first prize for Puffins, St. Kilda, where I stayed three 

 weeks, being a good second. The boatmen had left us, but we 

 were informed that numerous as were the Puffins, the Shear- 

 waters on Skomer were still more abundant. I had a friend 

 with me (V.), and we strolled along the cliffs for a walk; the 

 ground (like all Puffin-breeding stations), was honeycombed with 

 holes, and our feet went through every moment. " Do you hear 

 that?" I said. "What?" said V. "Listen at this hole," I 

 said. " Cuck-cuck-oo, cuck-cuck-oo, cuck-cuck-oo " (the "oo" 

 was sounded like "oh," occasionally like "aw"). There was 

 no mistake : it was a Manx Shearwater ; the first we had heard. 

 V. became excited and determined to get the bird. We rooted 

 away with our hands at the bank for about two yards ; the hole 

 went gradually deeper, the Shearwater inside, at intervals of a 

 minute or so, still crowing, " Cuck-cuck-oo." It seemed to be 

 getting louder, and this gave us hopes of reaching the bird. 

 Our hands were now quite tired, dirty, and the finger-nails 

 broken with scraping. We got a huge piece of driftwood and 

 prised up the soft bank, using a stone as a fulcrum. This 

 brought us about four feet farther. Still the crowing continued, 

 the noise outside apparently stimulating the Shearwater to 

 louder efforts. V. now got an old crowbar, as the driftwood was 

 rotten. This bar was used in connection with a hoisting-derrick 

 on the edge of the cliff ; we did not bring it with us. The bar 



