264 BIRDS OF BERMUDA. 
left behind. One was shot as far north as the coast of Nova Scotia, 
after a violent gale from the south, on the 4th September, 1870. I saw 
this bird in the Halifax Museum. The excellent accounts of the habits 
and nidification of this species given by Mr. Hurdis and Colonel Wed- 
derburn have left me but little to say. The single egg, which in color- 
ing is not unlike that of a Kestrel, is deposited in holes in the rocks, 
always in those which have a flooring of sand, preference being given to 
steep and overhanging cliffs on the south shore and the islands about 
Castle Harbor. A few pairs nest on the northern shore, where the cliffs 
are much lower. Sometimes one can see the sitting bird’s long tail- 
feathers protruding from the nest; while in another case the nest may 
be so far in, horizontally, that one can only tell there is one by the 
harsh grating cry of the disturbed occupant. Both male and female 
sit, fighting vigorously with their formidable bills in defense of their 
home. The young also show fight; in fact, the species is peculiarly 
fierce and untamable. Three young ones I kept alive for about two 
months maintained their savage nature till the last, refusing to feed 
themselves, striking viciously at any one who approached them, and 
even at one another. Their flight is peculiar, but graceful, and they 
never seem tired of their perpetual wheeling and maneuvering. They 
take beautiful headers, like a Tern or Gannet, in pursuit of small fish. 
It is rare to meet with a specimen possessing two good long central tail- 
feathers; one is generally smaller and shorter than the other. Some 
of these feathers are of a lovely orange-pink. They get rubbed off 
during incubation, and may be picked up near the breeding places. 
Two broods are reared, fresh eggs being found as early as the 10th 
April, and again at the end of June; there are intermediate examples, 
probably laid by birds whose tirst nests have been visited by the 
spoiler. That these birds revisit their breeding stations year after year 
is, I think, clearly shown by the following circumstance: Mr. Bartram, 
by way of experiment, slit the two webs of one foot, and cut off one or 
two claws, of a young bird in a nest near his house. Next year this 
bird turned up again, and made its nest close to the same spot. This 
attachment to the family residence is, I fancy, far from unusual with 
migratory birds. Swallows and other familiar visitors to England are 
known to possess it in a marked degree. On a calm day the bright 
greenish blue tint of the Atlantic waters, as they gently rise and fall 
above the white sands below, is reflected on the glossy white breasts 
and under parts of the Tropic-birds in a most remarkable manner as 
