Ocean Wanderers 



duty till its return after the shadows have again 

 fallen, either to bring food and again depart, or else 

 to take its turn on the nest and let its mate go 

 foraging. 



At the further end of the island we had noticed 

 a shanty, and after awhile we went to it. A lone 

 and bold fisherman had ensconced himself with his 

 family on lonely Seal Island for the season, where 

 he was practically monarch of all he surveyed. He 

 told us that he remained there lobstering and fishing 

 until about December. As he told of all the wild 

 fowl he saw and shot during the fall, I almost 

 envied him, except for his inability to view his 

 advantages save from the culinary standpoint. Every 

 bird was of interest only as it was good to eat. In 

 this connection he "drew the line" on the Petrels.. 

 But he had a big Newfoundland dog that thought 

 otherwise. The owner told us that the animal got 

 his own living unaided. Petrels forming his chief 

 provision. Practically the whole island was bur- 

 rowed full of them, and, even while we were 

 conversing, the dog would now and then paw out a 

 burrow and eat a poor Petrel, feathers and all, with 

 the egg for an appetizer ! The whole island smelt 

 of Petrels, — that peculiar, unmistakable odour. One 

 would think that any vessel, passing anywhere to 

 leeward of Seal Island, would get a whiff from that 

 great hatching-coop of Mother Carey's Chickens. 



We passed the day very pleasantly, exploring 

 caverns, hunting the cliffs on the seaward side for 

 the nests of the Black Guillemot, inspecting also 

 nests of Savanna Sparrows, Spotted Sandpipers, and 

 also one of a pair of Barn Swallows, the latter built 



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