357



on ihe Little Auk in Spitsbergen.



few days, however, it would feed freely from my hand, taking with

avidity the raw fish and meat that I offered it. Subsequently it

learnt to recognise the human voice as being associated with its

meals and would call eagerly whenever it heard me speak. It

possessed a very curious habit of wagging its head from side to

side after every mouthful which served to give it an extremely

comical appearance : indeed, at all times it was a quaint looking

bird—a tiny round ball of black down, with a short beak and

remarkably bright, beady little eyes.


In summer the kittle Auk is almost entirely an Arctic

species, breeding in vast colonies on some of the mountains of

Spitzbergen and, according to ornithologists, also in Greenland,

Novaya Zembla, Franz-Josef Land and the extreme north of

Iceland. Although I found this bird so plentiful in Spitzbergen

I was only able to examine a few nesting-holes : as a rule the eggs

and young were so far in a crevice of the cliff that it was quite

impossible to reach them ; others, again, were situated in almost

inaccessible places or where the crumbling nature of the ground

made it extremely dangerous to climb. The mountain which I

visited during my brief sojourn in Spitzbergen was at the head

of Recherche Bay, a natural harbour much frequented in the

summer mouths by Norwegian whalers. Roughly speaking this

mountain stands about 2,000 feet above the sea level. On all

its sides thousands of Little Auks were to be found nesting,

while, in one part, there was also a small colony of Mandt’s

Guillemot, Uriel mandti. Both species were breeding at an

altitude of over 1,400 feet. The Auks would be either sitting in

closely huddled rows upon the ledges of rock, or else they would

be flying round in small parties of ten to twenty or perhaps even

more, thus proving that these birds are gregarious even in the

breeding season. When on the wing they were continuously

giving vent to weird, laughing cries that suggested the call of

some Falcon—otherwise, when near to the intruder, they uttered

curious little Marmot-like noises, as though talking one to the

other. In their breeding haunts the birds are by no means shy,

and did not take alarm until I approached within a few feet of

them. When close to their nests they would come and circle

very near to my head, checking their flight by holding out their



