A Visit to the Lake Erie Terns 123 



wings and powerful beaks, are utterly helpless. The seclusion of their 

 existence seems to have left them incapable of dealing with an outside 

 element. *• 



A year ago I visited the nests on Little Chicken Island. At that time 

 we found a few young birds and a great number of eggs. Most of the 

 young birds were not more than a few days old, and often a chick would 

 be in the nest with unhatched eggs. This year our visit was made just 

 three days later, but the nesting season was much farther advanced. On 

 both occasions I was one of a party from the Ohio Lake Laboratory at 

 Sandusky. 



The little party who visited Hen and Chickens last July consisted of 

 two women with opera-glasses and note-books, and three men with 

 botanical cases and camera, — a very harmless, sunburned, unconventional 

 company. We made our start from Put-in-Bay, one of the most pictur 

 esque islands of the lake, and famous as the scene of Perry's victory. 

 Our launch was engaged the evening before, so that we were ready for 

 an early start. At six o'clock we were on hand, eating a picnic break- 

 fast on the boat landing. At seven our engineer appeared, and, an hour 

 and a half later, we landed on "Old Hen," delighted to reach firm land 

 after a ten -mile ride in the trough of the waves. 



This island is at a considerable distance from any other of its size, and 

 is in itself an interesting study. Tame pigs and chickens seemed at first 

 the only inhabitants. Sheep, rabbits and a perfectly fearless fox-squirrel 

 were next discovered. Ring-necked Pheasants, Marsh and Crow Black- 

 birds, Kingbirds, Olive-sided Flycatchers and Pewees, Red-eyed Vireos, 

 Song Sparrows, and Sandpipers seemed to constitute the whole bird stock 

 of the place. The island is rocky, mostly covered with soil heavy enough 

 to sustain large trees, but exposed about the shore, where wild flowers and 

 mosses flourish in the clefts. Great masses of rock have broken away from 

 the mainland and slipped down, leaving narrow fissures in which the water 

 plays with a gurgling, slapping sound. In some places the industrious 

 waves have brought quantities of pebbles and heaped them up between the 

 masses of granite, forming a sort of beach. Sandpipers dodged in and out 

 among the rocks as we followed them and then reappeared, walking on the 

 pebbles at the water's edge. 



A skiff was secured from the boat-house, and at ten the party set out 

 for Little Chicken. From a distance we noticed several Terns flying over 

 the island. As we approached, the birds rose from it in a cloud, scattered, 

 returned, and hung over our heads, screaming and circling wildly about. 

 We landed cautiously, fearful of stepping on the eggs or young birds which 

 lay everywhere on the stones. The island is a mass of boulders, many of 

 them hardly larger than a man's fist. Its whole surface, above the usual 

 high-water line, is used for nesting. Where drifted sea-weed or chips are 



