262 Ornithological Observations in Shetland. 



some higher — from the summit of which one looks down upon 

 them, flitting, hurrying, at a height, midway, then gliding lower, 

 hovering near the water, about to plunge, sheering off, going 

 to again, half plunging, righting themselves with an effort, 

 re-hovering, poising, abandoning, returning, on the point — 

 now ! — no — yes — no — yes — and down ! They do not now 

 close the wings and fall, like falling stars, they are hovering 

 too close over the surface and have neither time nor space. 

 Instead, they hold the wings up, as they enter the water, and 

 though it is often head first that they do so, yet often too, it is 

 a mere drop at full length upon it, the fall of an inch or two. 

 In this case they do not disappear beneath the surface, but 

 otherwise they do, and it may be from one to several seconds 

 before they emerge again. Always there is the little jolt, 

 forward and downward, of the head, and, even in the flattest 

 effort, they may get their fish, as I have plainly seen them do, 

 more than once, with the naked eye — glasses are not quick 

 enough here. Sometimes, however, they will plunge from much 

 higher, the action being then more like that of the Tern, 

 though much inferior in grace, if not in effectiveness. It 

 is delightful (though chilly) to look down from the frowning, 

 overhanging brow of some high point, on to all these little, 

 flitting forms, this atmosphere of wings and grace, this crowd 

 of Ariels, ever crossing and recrossing, sweeping together and 

 sweeping away again, as close, sometimes, almost as the flakes 

 of a snowstorm, yet never touching, all so rapid, yet all so 

 secure and easeful, though affecting you, almost, with giddiness. 

 Now another and darker form appears, graceful indeed (as 

 any), but evil and piratical, that of the Arctic Skua, who, singling 

 out a particular bird — one of the black-banded juvenals — 

 pursues him so closely as almost, but never, as it seems to me, 

 quite to touch him. He never deviates in pursuit of another, 

 though others are all around, though he flies through a web of 

 them ; none but this will serve. On they go, the persecuted 

 one uttering indignant, hoarse cries of distress, his pursuer, 

 still with hardly an interval, turning with every turn that he 

 makes, curving and zigzagging as he does, so closely, so almost 

 adherently as to make one think — for a simile — of the shadow 

 that one cannot fly from ; of conscience, destiny, a haunting 

 thought, or of a line I remember in the Ingoldsby Legends — 



" ' Running- after him (so said the abbot) ' like Bricks.' " * 



There is no other Gull, in all this scene of graceful activity, 

 there could be no other, I think, that would not seem un- 

 graceful as part of it. 



October 15TH. — At eleven this morning there is a great 

 assemblage of Kittiwakes at the usual place, the great majority 

 sitting on the grass, really sunning themselves now, for it is 



* "The Ing-oldsby Penance."— Fytte, y. 



Naturalist, 



