124 Bird- Lore 



available, rhe birds utilize them as a bed for the eggs, otherwise they lay 

 them on the bare rock. The nests are often only a foot apart, the eggs 

 inconspicuous, and it required the greatest care to avoid treading on them. 

 The eggs were in sittings of two or three, rarely four, hufi or ashy with 

 spots of lilac and brown. At the time of our visit, July twenty -fifth, most 

 of the eggs were hatched and we found great numbers of young birds, vary- 

 ing from newly hatched chicks to full-grown birds that ran quickly away 

 and disappeared. The little birds either snuggled out of sight among the 

 stones or ran to cover. 



IVIany young birds lay dead on the stories among the nests, victims, per- 

 haps, of family feuds or lost to their parents and dead of starvation. They 

 could not have fallen from the nest, as land -birds do, nor could they have 

 been trodden on by heavy-footed animals, the presence of which Mr. 

 Chapman suggests may explain the great number of dead young among the 

 Terns which he visited on Penikese Island. 



One of the women, covered over with gray cambric, crouched down 

 among the boulders; the other, similarly draped, hid among some scrubby 

 •willows which grew along one shore. The photographer retired to the far 

 end of the island and the other men rowed away, promising to return for 

 us in the afternoon. 



Before long the birds began to return, first the young and then the 

 adults, most of the latter with fishes in their bills, minnows about three 

 inches long being the usual catch. It took a long time for them to settle, 

 nor did they do so confidently during our whole stay of four hours. The 

 island was soon covered with birds, but the flock above seemed as large 

 and as noisy as ever. They would drop down, hover over their nests, per- 

 haps touch the stones, and then rise again screaming and resume their 

 whirling, distracted flight. Again and again this happened before the birds 

 gained courage to alight. As the flock sank lower and more of the birds 

 settled on the ground, I distinguished two calls, — one harsh, shrill, com- 

 plaining, the other low, clucking. Many of the birds carrying fish uttered 

 this call, and on alighting ran about as though looking for their hungry 

 families. Within each of those hundreds of mother-birds, to the spectator 

 as like each other as so many leaves or pebbles, raged the conflict between 

 terror and mother-love. In many cases love triumphed and brought the 

 trembling birds to the very feet of the invaders. 



Near my station under the willows lay a large log, under which I knew 

 that at least three little Terns were hiding. Presently one of the birds 

 flew down, hovered for a moment with upward slanting wings and dangling 

 legs, and then dropped to the ground. It carried a fish and advanced 

 toward the log, calling softly. She was within about twelve feet, and I 

 could clearly see the delicate tinting of her wings, and her full bright eyes. 

 One of the little birds ran toward her with gaping bill. She turned and 



