A LABRADOR SPRING 
while it lasted, and very decisive; one of the 
drakes had to be rejected. 
Another water bird whose courtship I watched 
on the Labrador coast was that curious indi- 
vidual — that compound of dignity and com- 
icality —the puffin. On this coast the bird 
is universally known as the “ perroquet,’ but 
Sir Richard Bonnycastle in his ‘‘ Newfound- 
land in 1842”’ justly says it ‘“‘ may be called 
the sea-owl, from its extraordinary head and 
wise look.”” Near Bald Island they delighted 
to gather on the water in compact parties of 
fifty or sixty individuals, that were constantly 
moving in and out like a crowd at an afternoon 
tea. Every now and then one would sit up on 
the water and spread its wings, and once I 
watched two fighting with flapping wings, and, 
at another time, two struggling together for a 
full minute with interlocked beaks. Occasion- 
ally one puffin would face another, and throw 
its head back with a quick jerk so that the bill 
pointed vertically up, and then lower it again. 
At one time I saw several birds do this, but as 
the wind was strong, the water rough and the 
distance considerable, my observations were 
far from complete and satisfactory. Edmund 
96 
