LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTH AMERICAN DIVING BIRDS. 87 
On one occasion a puffin was stunned by an accurately aimed gaff hook and 
was hauled aboard. Upon recovering consciousness it was held by the feet 
and fed herring until the exasperated boatman terminated its career by wring- 
ing its neck. This is perhaps an extreme case, but it serves to illustrate the 
boldness of the species and to furnish a reason for the steady increase in num- 
bers which the natives have observed during the past 20 years. 
Behavior—The tufted puffin, with its heavy body and small 
wings, experiences considerable difficulty in rising from the water in 
calm weather or with the wind behind it; I have often seen it make 
futile attempts to-do so, flapping along the surface, dropping into the 
water and trying again and again. It is equally incapable of rising 
from the land and generally prefers to launch into the air from a 
cliff or steep hillside, where it glides downward for several feet be- 
fore gaining headway enough to fly. But, when once under way its 
flight is strong, direct, and well sustained. It makes long flights to 
and from its feeding grounds and on migrations. It usually flies 
well up in the air, but it can not rise abruptly or change its course 
suddenly; it usually circles about in long curves, rising gradually. 
It is a good diver, swimming below the surface with both wings 
and feet in use, but it does not like to dive and prefers to escape by 
some other method, if possible. It often dives directly out of the 
air into the water or plunges below the surface as soon as it alights, 
which is a rather clumsy performance. It is quite active on land, 
walking about in a lively manner or standing erect on its toes. Its 
attitude is one of ludicrous solemnity, suggestive of its common name, 
“sea parrot.” It is exceedingly tough and hard to kill, carrying off 
a lot of heavy shot; when wounded, it is useless to pursue it. Its 
body is so solid and muscular that the means ordinarily used for kill- 
ing birds hardly proves effective; one particularly tough individual 
which, for three times in succession, I supposed I had killed, finally 
escaped. 
This puffin, like most sea birds, is a sociable species on its breed- 
ing grounds, where it seems to live on good terms with its neighbors. 
It occasionally borrows a little nesting material from the gulls, but 
it never disturbs the eggs of other species. Mr. Chester Barlow 
(1894) writes of finding a dead Cassins’ auklet and its egg in a 
burrow occupied by an incubating tufted puffin, from which he in- 
ferred that the puffin had killed the auklet and taken possession of its 
home. Mr. Milton 8S. Ray (1904) cites the following incident: 
On one occasion I chased a rabbit to a burrow among the rocks, but the 
animal had scarcely entered when out it quickly jumped. I looked in, and 
there, sentinel like, stood the puffin on guard with a bill full of “bunny’s” fur. 
The young puffins are very quarrelsome among themselves and are 
particularly aggressive toward human beings, but their weapons are 
not formidable. The old birds, however, are both vicious and formi- 
