FLAMBOROUGH HEAD. 31 



THE GUILLEMOT. 



Let me first narrate my experience of the Guillemot (or " Skout," as it 

 is called — a name which has been in use for centuries) as jotted down at 

 the time of ray last visit, because it is par excellence the bird of these 

 limestone cliffs. 



Craning over the verge of the mighty abyss, I perceived, hundreds 

 of feet below me, as it were a nation of people coming and going, 

 in an unceasing, endless stream. It was a sight so novel to me that in 

 a few minutes it made my senses reel. Dizzy with the Babel of sounds 

 and the maze of living forms, I was fain to cover my bewildered eyes, 

 and turn away ; yet all the time I was so fascinated by the marvel of 

 those short, squat, dapper little Guillemots, with their abbreviated wings 

 (almost like fishes' fins) bearing them down, down, down, rapidly and 

 straight, until it seemed as if they had gone too far and all hope was over for 

 them, that the spectacle was focused in my mind for months after. Always 

 they recovered themselves just when it seemed as if they must be dashed to 

 pieces ; and in a few minutes there were scores and scores of them, which 

 had been sitting before on the ledges, carrying on an aggressive war with the 

 tribes of the deep. 



Of some the fishing-ground lies near ; but of many it is far away, beside 

 the distant Dogger bank ; and there they fly, in little arrow-headed 

 regiments, one after another, like winged missiles directed against an unseen 

 and finny foe. 



Many more sit expectant on their rocky platforms, making unmeaning 

 bows, or raising a shrill chorus of alarm as a successful fisher returns to his 

 ledge and bowls off a couple of the nearest to make room for himself. 



Numbers swim in the water, in long meandering lines, in circles, stars, 

 and crescents — in short, in all manner of patterns. 



There is an idea prevalent that they cannot fly upwards unless their 



