THE PETREL. 87 



of the really rude and primitive, though ornamental lamps of the 

 ancients. 



Many shore-going birds are equally notable for their capacities 

 of producing fat in large quantities when they procure a plenti- 

 ful supply of food. The common sand-piper, for example, which 

 haunts the muddy shores of tidal rivers, and feeds upon the va- 

 rious living creatures with which the mud is peopled, accumu- 

 lates fat to such an extent that to skin the bird properly is al- 

 most impossible, the thick coating of fat between the skin and the 

 flesh melting by the heat of the fingers, and running like oil over 

 the feathers. I could never bring myself to believe in the petrel- 

 lamp until I had opened the sand-piper when in full condition. 



The Petrel only feeds its young by night, remaining on the 

 wing during the day, and flying to vast distances from the land. 

 Owing to this habit, and its custom of taking to the sea during 

 the fiercest storms, it has long' been an object of dread to sailors, 

 whose illogical minds are unable to discriminate between cause 

 and effect, and fancy that the Petrel, or Mother Carey's Chicken, 

 as they call the bird, is the being which, by the exercise of some 

 magic art, calls the storm into existence. They even fancy that 

 the Petrel never goes ashore nor rests ; and will tell you that it 

 does not lay its egg in the ground, but holds it under one wing, 

 and hatches it while engaged in flight. To the vulgar mind, ev- 

 ery thing incomprehensible is fraught with terrors, and so the 

 harmless, and even useful Petrel, is hated with strange virulence. 



The bird is essentially a storm-lover, for by the violence of the 

 wind upon the waves the substances on which the bird feeds are 

 thrown to the surface, and can be snapped up before they sink 

 again. The Petrel knows by some innate faculty the approach 

 of a storm, and its appearance is the signal for the careful mariner 

 to reduce his sails. The ignorant sailors, who know, from long 

 experience, that the Petrel is the forerunner of a storm, salute it 

 by the title of Devil's bird, together with sundry other epithets, 

 all very forcible, but on that very account not to be printed. 



Throughout the breeding season the Petrel is indefatigable in 

 search of food, and will follow ships for considerable distances, in 

 hopes of obtaining some of the offal that is thrown overboard by 

 the cook. Even if a cupful of oil be emptied into the water, the 

 Petrel will scoop it up in its bill, and take it home to its young. 

 During the night it mostly remains with its offspring, feeding it, 

 and making a curious grunting noise, something like the croaking 



