218 BULLETIN 107, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM. 
Mr. Ekblaw says: 
The eggs are quite uniform in size, and also in color. Most of them are a 
pale blue, the blue being but a tinge. From this pale blue type they vary in 
both directions slightly, to quite white and to pale robin-egg blues. However, 
most of the eggs are a typical pale-blue color. Though not a précocial bird the 
dovekie lays an abnormally large egg, so large, in fact, in proportion to the 
size of the bird that the mother could with difficulty and little success keep 
more than one egg warm. The shell of the egg is so thick that the inside must 
be cooled slowly when the old birds leave the nest. I can not state that the 
male takes part in the incubation, but I have seen whichever bird it is that is 
not on the eggs, come to the entrance of the nest and enter with his pouch 
distended with food, in the same manner as it is later when the young are 
being fed, so I presume that the food is for the incubating bird, male or female. 
The eggs do not always mature. I have found many that had spoiled and not 
hatched. Some of these were probably old eggs of former years, but about 1 
egg in 10 was spoiled. 
Young.—The young begin hatching about the middle of July, and from then 
almost until the last week in August some are being hatched, though the most 
of them hatch about the middle of August, ora little before. They at once 
become voraciously hungry, and tax the energies of both parents to satisfy 
them, even though the day be 24 hours light. The young birds, as soon as they 
hear any noise outside the entrance, set up an impatient shrill chirping, which 
continues until the old bird feeds them by disgorging into their bills the con- 
tents of its well-filled pouch. The consoling, soothing murmur of the old bird 
to the young, and the satisfied chirping of the young shows how solicitous the 
one is, and how grateful the other. The birds of adjacent nests often leave 
and arrive together; when they come with a great rush of wings, they usually 
alight together in a group on some prominent large rock near their nests, and 
then after a survey of the vicinity, hop or fly to their respective entrances. 
Before leaving, they gather together similarly. 
The first birds come off the nest about the middle of August, and the last 
not until the last of the month, so that the latest departures from the nesting 
sites are those retarded by their belated young. Thus after the great number 
are gone south, a few still remain a few days—these belated young and their 
parents. On August 24, 1915, when I went up on the slopes along the fjord 
to collect young and old birds for the winter’s food, the birds had already 
begun leaving, so that the number was noticeably diminished. The departure 
continued constantly through the day, great flocks rising over the south cliffs 
and passing out of sight southward. The following day the most of those 
remaining left, and this was the day of the greatest exodus. On the 25th we 
found most of the young gone, though a number remained, and of these several 
had not yet developed the wing feathers needed for their flight, and could not 
leave for at least a week or 10 days yet. Many of the young were leaving 
the nest. Apparently when they are sufficiently developed they emerge from 
their nest and impelled by an instinctive impulse essay the first flight; I could 
not see that any coaxing was resorted to by the older birds. The young bird 
waddled awkwardly about the rocks, watched not only by his own parents but 
by all the old birds as well. From time to time he would stretch and flap his 
wings, and then finally when those about him rose in flight he, too, took to his 
wings. He quickly fell behind the most; but at least one, sometimes two, old 
birds stuck by him. His flight was awkward, and he could easily be distin- 
guished in his erratic course, from the old birds. Some of the weaker ones 
