Sea ^ Shore Birds 



158 



which is entirely rocky and full of little crevices, my 

 eyes suddenly realise that one of these newly-hatched 

 babies is actually close to my feet, but, with a few 

 greyish stones scattered about, looking so exactly like 

 them that I had passed it over. 



Warned by the parent birds, it is crouching down, 

 and keeping absolutely still. 



Directly I take it in my hand it begins to struggle 

 and cry, knowing that all further deception is useless. 



A pretty little fellow, with his grey fluffy body, 

 relieved by darker spots and stripes about the head. 

 His two brothers were close by, wedged into crannies 

 in the rock. 



Putting them into a basket, I clamber up to the 

 plateau, on the island's top, to try and obtain some 

 greater black-back babies. 



Here the view is quite lovely : the panorama of 

 the islands all round ; the sea as smooth as glass, and 

 of a brilliant blue, varied with purple and green 

 patches of colour. 



The foxgloves are in blossom, and against the deep 

 colour of the water below, give a glorious combination. 



Not a breath of wind, and the rocks are hot under 

 the sun's rays. 



The varied cries of the sea-birds, some close at 

 hand, some in the farther distance, are the only sounds, 

 except for the singing of the linnets in the gorse and 

 the swish-swish of the waves on the shore. 



In such a spot dull care has gone, and exhilaration 

 of mind and body is all one feels. 



From a neighbouring island there rings across the 



