Sept., 1905 | AMONG THE SEA BIRDS OFF THE OREGON COAST, PART I 
123 
It took us, in all, about a day’s work with a small rock-drill and axe to level 
off a space wide enough for a bed. For all our attempts at breaking the boulders 
line enough to make them as soft as possible, the jagged points annoyed us 
somewhat during the first night, and occasionally we had to reach under and 
shift the larger ones. This bed worked a trifle on our nerves, and the second day, 
we took the pains to pull a couple of sacks of the watery weed that grew on the 
roof of the rock, and spread it for a mattress. This native bedding was soft but 
brimful of wetness. We dropped to sleep readily, but always awoke about mid- 
night, when the mattress began to steam, and there wasn’t a night when I didn’t 
feel the sensation of getting a third-class Turkish bath. 
Just on the next two fiats above our roof, were two large “chicken yards” of 
WESTERN GULL 
murres. Although everything was open about our camp, the ventilation was vile. 
Sleeping next that chicken yard on the floor above, was worse than a room with 
the doors and windows opening into a pig pen. But what could we do? The 
whole island was rancid, from the sea-lion bath-tub at the bottom, to the cormorant 
collection at the very tip, in spite of the airing it got from every wind of heaven. 
After breakfast, we started out, Robinson Crusoe-like, to explore the island. 
We found the only path to the top was working along and passing from ledge to 
ledge. This was rather difficult in three places. Just above the tent was a wall 
twelve feet high, that had to be scaled with a rope or pole. Crawling along 
through the two murre rookeries under the over-hanging rocks, one had to ascend 
