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Bird- Lore 



The whole flat top of the rock was literally covered with their nests, from which 

 they were beating a hasty, if not graceful, retreat. A few of them held their 

 ground and sat stolidly on their nests until we had photographed them at our 

 leisure. One of the pinnacles was absolutely inaccessible, a secure retreat, its 

 flat top white with nesting Gannets. 



But before we had used up all our plates a signal was fired from Bird Rock, 

 warning us to return; the barometer was falling and a blow was not far off; 

 our genial hcst was sorry to part with us, but prudence suggested that if we would 

 reach the Magdalens in safety, with our frail craft, we must start that night. 

 The two days had been far too short to accomplish all we wanted, but we hurriedly 

 packed up our belongings, bade farewell to our kind friends and started. Part- 

 ing salutes were fired, handkerchiefs, weaters, and finally table cloths were 

 waved, as the light northeast wind carried us away from Bird Rock, and the 

 four lonely figures on top faded out of sight. 



The wind soon died out to a dead calm, we were twenty-five miles from 

 Grosse Isle, darkness coming on and every prospect of a dangerous gale ap- 

 proaching. But we were not helpless, there were two oars in the boat and four 

 of us to man them. It was a hard night's work, with half hour shifts at the oars, 

 but we stuck to it and finally reached the welcome beach at Grosse Isle just 

 before sunrise. We were tired and sleepy, but we had made the first trip to Bird 

 Rock in an open boat. 



GAXXETS AND NESTS ON NORTH BIRD ROCK 



