134 BULLETIN 107, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM, 
auklets and thousands of petrels, become almost distracting and banish sleep 
most effectually for the first few nights on the island. 
These, then, are some of our murrelets’ neighbors; but where is he? We 
‘listen in vain for some note of his, but hear none. As we walk on a little 
distance among the tall grass of last year’s growth we notice a small dark object 
flapping about, and after a short chase we manage to capture it and discover 
our “old man,” but fail to locate his nest, one of the main objects of our long 
and tedious voyage, and we did not succeed in finding one containing eggs until 
the 11th of June. This was principally because they had not commenced to lay 
sooner, and partly, also, because we did not then look in the places—under 
rank matted grass—which are mostly preferred by this murrelet for nesting 
sites. 
We remained on this desolate, wind-swept island from May 29 until June 12. 
Our days were spent in hunting, preparing skins and eggs, but time passed 
slowly. At first we looked forward to night in order to renew our acquaintance 
with our feathered neighbors, but after losing about a week’s sleep, owing to 
their squeaking, I, at least, felt like choking the whole lot; and as if not 
satisfied with the constant babble of their neighbors, the murrelets took 
especial delight in alighting at the foot of our A-shaped tent, toenailing it up 
to the ridgepole, resting there a moment, and then sliding down on the other 
side. This exercise seems to amuse them, and it certainly did us, until the 
novelty wore off, as it was not conducive to a restful sleep, and finally, tiring 
of this, and finding but few murrelets’ eggs, we broke camp and started for the 
mainland, and did not return to the island again until June 23. 
In a short time after the first birds arrive on their breeding grounds, and 
before one has time to realize it, the entire surface of certain favorite islands 
is literally alive with murrelets and auklets, in the proportion of about two 
of the latter to one of the former, as well as of both Leach’s and fork-tailed 
petrels (Oceanodroma furcata), the first greatly outnumbering the last. When 
one walks obout at this time, the murrelets and auklets become frightened, 
running, flopping, and flying about in such numbers that one has to-be careful 
where he steps, lest they be crushed under food. If it is windy—and it usually 
is—they are on the wing at once as soon as disturbed, and quickly out of sight, 
but when a calm prevails they have to flop to the side of a steep bank where 
they can jump off, and thereby gain sufficient headway to keep on the wing, 
and then in their frantic efforts to be off, they become bewildered and are 
just as apt to fly in one’s face, or against the cliffs, as anywhere; although they 
usually strike with great force when fairly started, I have never seen one 
killed or even stunned. They no sconer touch the earth, than they are flop- 
ping off again at a great rate. 
It is a difficult matter to calculate the numbers that visit this small island 
annually, but they certainly number several thousands and if left unmolesed 
by man the island would soon become too small to accommodate their natural 
increase, but such is by no means the case. The native Aleuts know, almost 
to a day, when the first ones will arrive, and are there to meet them, invading 
the island armed with stout clubs, and every bird, auklet or murrelet, that is 
overtaken is promptly clubbed to death and thrown into a sack carried for this 
purpose. At each of these raids hundreds of these birds are killed, and as they 
are made frequently and throughout the entire season, it is astonishing that 
any remain. But this is not all; as soon as day dawns, the entire crew sets 
out to make a systematic search for eggs, which are well flavored and good 
eating, each one striving to get more than his mates; and as it makes no dif- 
ference to a native whether they are fresh or on the point of hatching, every- 
