138 BIRD STUDIES WITH A CAMERA 
It is a superb view of boundless sea and forest 
which greets one from this vantage point—a strik- 
ing combination of the charms of land and water. 
To the south, the Bay Chaleur with its broken coast 
line; to the west, a grand panorama of mountain 
and valley, all densely wooded—the home of bear, 
and deer, and caribou; to the north, a foreground 
of red cliffs and blue water, and, in the distance, 
Gaspé; to the east, the apparently limitless gulf and, 
seemingly beneath one, Bonaventure Island, Percé, 
and the Rock. 
It was a view to remember; one, I trust, I may 
be privileged to behold again. I longed for time to 
explore the surrounding woods, but Bonaventure 
with its Gannets wielded a stronger fascination, and 
two days after our arrival we chartered a cod boat, 
with its crew, for the voyage to the Gannet rooker- 
ies on the eastern side of Bonaventure, distant about 
four miles. 
The evident great strength of our craft in pro- 
portion to its size made it seem like a stunted vessel, 
and her captain and the crew, of one man, seemed 
built on the same lines. During the winter they 
were lumbermen in the region north of Ottawa, in 
the summer codfishers. It is doubtful if they could 
have selected occupations requiring greater endur- 
ance. They seemed as tough as rawhide, and as 
rough as pirates. 
My good assistant they invariably spoke of as 
“the woman,” but both proved true men at heart, 
and as solicitous for our welfare as though their own 
lives of exposure had not trained them to laugh at 
hardship. 
