CHAPTER I. 



A LONELY " DESERT ISLAND " AND A HERMIT. 



If you, dear reader — ^gentle or otherwise — ^have never 

 felt the pleasant thrill of expectancy which attends one's 

 first setting out to explore some out of the way haunt 

 of bird or beast, hidden in some remote comer of our 

 island kingdom (or for that matter any other kingdom), 

 be it in the shape of marsh or moor, forest or rocky 

 shore line, or during, may be, some long overdue holiday ; 

 you will not, we expect, have much sympathy for 

 our feelings as we first set eyes on Blanquilla. 



The island of Blanquilla was then, as far as its birds 

 were concerned, an unknown quantity. For all we could 

 tell it might contain a prize or not, but in any case, by 

 reason of its isolation, it was sure to hold something of 

 interest to repay the trouble of a visit. 



We had left Port of Spain, in Trinidad, on April 4th, 

 1906, bound for Cuba, and Sir Frederic had turned aside, 

 a little out of his course, to pay a flying visit to this lonely 

 little island. It was the first taste of explora^tion, humble 

 as it was, that we had ever experienced ; and I for one, as 

 we slowly crawled towards its low shores, felt like some 

 impatient school boy eager to be off bird's nesting. 



" I ask my young countrymen, not for a moment to 

 believe that there are no more Guanahani shores, no 

 more peaks of Darien, that the work of Nasamonians 

 is finished, and that there is nothing left to do but to 

 make exact surveys." So wrote Sir Clements Markham, 

 a little while ago, in an attempt to encourage the real stem 



