The Brandt Cormorant 



they struggled free of the water, shook themselves, and went waddling up 

 the wet spume as fast as their short legs would carry them. The upper 

 beach had become, therefore, a solid black mass of shags. 



Not all the shags required to wade ashore, for there was a constant 

 string of arrivals by the air route. As nearly as I could make out the 

 three species were represented, Baird's, if any, decidedly in the minority, 

 the Farallons outnumbering the Brandt's three to one. Altogether there 

 must have been three thousand ashore, the most I ever saw at one time. 

 Of other birds there were Heermann Gulls, Western Gulls, Royal Terns 

 (a few) and California Pelicans. 



As we approached, a second time, the necessity of early action in 

 flight became more apparent to the birds. The great body of birds up- 

 beach was helpless, or nearly so, by reason of juxtaposition, so the exodus 

 began at the water's edge and worked up the beach as fast as possible. 

 As we broke into a run, the pace became feverish, but there was no dis- 

 order. The birds knew that they had just one chance, and they took 

 it. In an incredibly short space of time the army melted away, from the 

 front only, and the last bird had cleared with a run and violent flapping 

 when we arrived, laughing and breathless. There was nothing to fear. 

 The birds knew it then, and they blinked at each other sheepishly from 

 behind the line of breakers — blinked or winked, I am not just sure which. 



THE ETHIOPIAN CLUB 



BRANDT CORMORANTS ON ROCK NEAR SANTA CRUZ 



Photo by the Author 



1955 



