The Marbled Murrelet 



narrowly sooty, bill longer and more uniformly black, as compared with the Ancient 

 Murrelet; larger, lighter above, plumbeous dusky instead of slaty black, and upperparts 

 more extensively invaded by white, as compared with the Xantus Murrelet. 



Nesting. — Not known to breed in California, but probably does so. Eggs: 2; 

 probably placed at end of short burrow in mountainside, many miles from water; 

 elliptical ovate; pale bluish green (glaucous), finely and sparingly spotted with blackish 

 brown. Size about 62 x 35 (2.44 x 1.38). 



General Range. — Pacific Coast of North America from the Alaska Peninsula 

 south to San Diego; breeding in the mountains (?) south to Santa Cruz County, Cali- 

 fornia. 



Distribution in California. — Resident in winter on the ocean throughout the 

 length of the State; rarely seen in harbors. A few remain through the summer, and 

 evidently breed in the coast ranges. 



Authorities. — Cassin {Brachyramphus marmoratus), in Baird, Rep. Pac. R. R. 

 Surv., vol. ix., 1858, p. 915 ("California"); Loomis, Proc. Calif. Acad. Sci., ser. 2, vi., 

 1896, p. 19 (off Monterey); J. Mailliard, Condor, vol. vi., 1904, p. 15 (Monterey, June 

 and }u\y);Bent, U. S. Nat. Mus., Bull. no. 107, 1919, p. 141 (life history). 



THE EASTERN visitor, even though admonished by his San Fran- 

 cisco friends, will never understand why he should bring an overcoat in 

 summer. It is for the reason also that notably "refreshing" breezes play- 

 fully romp anywhere from Crescent City to Point Conception on a sum- 

 mer afternoon, that Dr. Grinnell, veteran ornithologist of the West, could 

 only say of the Marbled Murrelet: "Fairly common winter visitant on the 

 ocean coastwise"; adding, rather tamely, "Has been found in June and 

 July on Monterey Bay." No; the summer waters of Alta California are 

 not suited for extended exploration a la skiff; and for this reason the 

 author will beg the privilege of introducing his proteges from a northern 

 station, and then of making some pertinent remarks about the Marbled 

 Murrelet as a breeding bird of California. 



For those who long for "something different" we recommend a 

 steamboat ride along, say, the Straits of Georgia, or across the eastern 

 arm of Juan de Fuca on a blowy day in December. To be sure it is a 

 bit chilly out, and there are spiteful dabs of rain between whiles, but the 

 forward deck is clear, for the helpless ones are crowded in the cabin playing 

 poker or scowling gloomily out of the windows. We may have the bow 

 to ourselves — you and I — and what a glorious company of sights and 

 sounds there are about us! Every blue-gray wave has a voice, and the 

 gray-blue wind tries every tone with its deft fingers. The chorus smites 

 upon the prow with its never-ending climaxes of spray, to which our 

 staunch boat opposes only its patient methodical sighing. Now the wind 

 laughs, and while it marshals its serried ranks for a fiercer charge, our 

 drummer boy, the trusted flag-rope, beats furious tattoo. Crash! Poof! 

 Poof! We win! 



*4*5 



