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skins. The names of the crew of the boat were Messrs. W. Gilchrist, L. Mann, Eichard Simpson, and John 

 Murphy, the first two of whom are Sydney men. The Albatros was the first that had been seen for a month. 



Mr. Pycroft writes (' Trans. N.Z. Inst.,' vol. xxxi., p. 145) : " I have seen this bird several 

 times at the mouth of the Bay of Islands, and I am told it often enters the little harbour of 

 Whangaruru during the whaling season in search of offal." 



Between Tonga and New Zealand we were often followed by Diomedea exulans, but mostly 

 young birds. We saw only one Diomedea regia. This was about the middle of October. After 

 passing the Great Barrier we saw a community of Prion desolatus fishing near the surface, 

 also a single Garodia nereis, and, opposite to the Little Barrier, what appeared to be an albino 

 Majaqueus looming very distinct in the uncertain light of the evening. 



This species breeds on the western end and centre of Adam's Island, on the Auckland group, 

 and on Antipodes Island (Hutton). 



A well-known writer says, with great truth : " The ocean solitudes are to-day, owing to the 

 method of following beaten tracks which is so universally pursued, more solitary than they have 

 been for centuries." The only effective way, therefore, of studying the habits of the Wandering 

 Albatros is to visit it during the breeding season, in its great nurseries in the Southern Ocean, 

 where its life-history reads like a romance. 



Under the title of 'A Eemarkable Fast,' Mr. James Buckland has communicated to 

 ' The English Illustrated Magazine ' a picturesque account of the home life of this noble 

 bird, from which I extract the following : — 



The Wandering Albatros ! Theme of poets ! The wonder and the admiration of naturalists ! Whether we 

 think of it as a thing of surpassing grace, adding dignity even to the ocean, or ponder upon the marvellous 

 features of its domestic economy, what bird can be compared to this pilgrim of the sea ? There is a certain 

 indefiniteness and mystery connected with the habits of the Wandering Albatros which gives it a character 

 widely different from that of any other bird. For the most part, we see it alone in infinite space, apparently 

 insusceptible of weariness, and possessing the power of dispensing with sleep for very long intervals. 

 Throughout our waking hours it is with us, our solitary companion in a boundless waste of waters. The 

 sombre shades of night come and pass. Day dawns, and still it is there — following the vessel with sober, steady 

 flight. Or it may suddenly appear, sweep once round the ship, and, pursuing its majestic course, retreat as it 

 came — to vanish meteor-like and for ever from our sight. Small wonder the voyager should ask, Whence 

 comes it, whither goes it, how sleeps it, homeless and shelterless as it seems to be? 



Where is the man who has rounded the Cape or the Horn — the Northern Hemisphere does not know the 

 Wandering Albatros — who has not looked upon the marvellous flight of this bird with feelings of interest 

 amounting almost to enthusiasm ; and where is he who can say that the phenomenon has failed to maintain 

 its power to interest even after weeks of observation have made it familiar ? Now the stately bird hangs in 

 the wake of the steamer, perfectly motionless, except that its head from time to time is turned slowly from 

 side to side, as if carefully noting all that is taking place on board ; now it tops the white crest of a mountain- 

 ous wave, to go sweeping into the indigo valley beneath ; now, dropping astern, it wheels in wide circles far 

 behind ; now, having retreated to a certain distance, it puts forth its full power of flight, and, coining up again 

 with the steamer, shoots past with almost incredible swiftness. Yet in the flight of the Albatros — be the 

 weather calm, or be the rigging shrieking in the fury of a gale — there is scarcely any perceptible movement of 

 its expanded pinions. When a quick turn or a wide curve is required, it alters merely the angle at which the 

 wings are inclined. Watch one of these birds as closely as you may the long day through, and you will detect 

 no other motion but this. Various theories have been propounded from time to time to account for the sailing 

 flight of the Albatros ; but, when all that can be has been said, science has little to tell us but that there is an 

 unusual development of the muscles of the breast and wings. The exact nature of the guiding and impelling 

 force has never been satisfactorily explained. It is perhaps worthy of mention that, despite its prodigious 

 power of sailing in the air, this bird has great difficulty in rising from the water. This is particularly the case 

 when there is little wind and the sea is calm. When there is a broken sea, it takes a preliminary run along 

 the water to get the required impetus, and rises with the wave. Then, after a few fast strokes with its mighty 

 pinions, it pursues its motionless course as if impelled by some invisible power. . . . 



252! 



190. 



