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difference in the breeding-times was observable, for whilst the nests of Diomedea regia contained 

 young birds, the other species was only just preparing to lay. On February 7th a nest of the 

 latter was discovered containing two eggs (a most unusual occurrence), but all the other nests 

 were empty, or occupied by the young bird of the former season. 



Marvellous as it may appear, it is perfectly true that the young birds never leave the 

 breeding-ground till their parents return to refit their nests for another brood. This is the 

 account of it, amply authenticated, given by Mr. Harris, as quoted by Professor Hutton : "At a 

 certain time of the year between February and June— Mr. Harris cannot exactly say when — the 

 old birds leave their young and go to sea, and do not return until the next October, when they 

 arrive in large numbers. Each pair goes at once to its old nest, and, after a little fondling of the 

 young one, which has remained in or near the nest the whole time, they turn it out and prepare 

 the nest for the next brood. The deserted young ones are in good condition and very lively, 

 frequently being seen off their nests exercising their wings. When the old birds return and take 

 possession of their nest, the young one often remains outside and nibbles at the head of the old 

 one until the feathers between the beak and the eye are removed and the skin made quite sore. 

 The young birds do not go far from land until the following year, when they accompany the old 

 ones to sea." The fact is that when the young are left in the nest at the close of the breeding- 

 season they are so immensely fat that they can subsist for months without food of any kind. 

 Professor Hutton attempted to account for the good condition of the young birds by suggesting 

 that they may be nocturnal in their habits (although the old ones are strictly diurnal) and " go 

 down to the sea at night, returning to their nests in the morning" ; but Mr. Harris rejected that 

 theory on the ground that the young birds are incapable of flight, and that the situations 

 occupied by many of them make it impossible to get to the water except by that means. 



Captain Fairchild has described to me from personal observation the coming home of the 

 Wandering Albatros after its long absence from its island sanctuary, and the peremptory manner 

 in which the young bird in possession is ordered to quit the nest, so as to make room for 

 its successor. The ease with which the old birds find their way to their own particular nest 

 among so many is not the least wonderful thing in this marvellous romance of island life. And 

 when I ponder on these strange facts I can only ask, as I have done before (vol. ii., p. 197), what 

 is that divinely implanted faculty which enables this bird, after wanderings that defy calculation, 

 and perhaps encircle the globe, to find her way back at the right moment, across the pathless deep, 

 to that little speck of rock in mid-ocean where she had cradled her young the season before ? 

 Doubtless the same mysterious unerring instinct that guides the Swallow in its annual pilgrimage 

 — that leads the Pipit, without landmark of any kind, straight to her little nest in the grass, amidst 

 miles of waving tussock — that enables the nesting Tern, when she comes back from fishing, to 

 pick out her two painted eggs from amongst the thousands that lie upon the barren rock. 



Like its congener, Diomedea exulans, this Albatros forms a very rude nest — just a few loose 

 materials collected together in any convenient depression in the ground. The building up of 

 cheese-like nests is confined to the group of Mollymawks. 



Since writing the paper mentioned above, on this new species of Wandering Albatros, I have 

 had an opportunity of comparing its nestling with that of Diomedea exulans. The former, 

 as already recorded, is entirely covered with down of the purest white ; the nestling of Diomedea 

 exulans, on the other hand, has a covering of light-grey down, changing to white on the head. 



There is a very lovely specimen of the nestling, most successfully mounted by himself, 

 in Mr. Jennings' collection at Dunedin ; and I was not surprised to hear that he had, more than 

 once, been offered £20 for it. 



The distribution of these Albatroses on their breeding-grounds is very curious. Although 

 Mollymawks are plentiful on the Snares and on the Bounty Islands, neither Diomedea regia 



