July, 1890. a naturalist’s notes in north Devon. 
147 
to thicken out at sea, obscuring the horizon where sea met 
sky in a confused mass of lurid cloud. Moreover, the warn¬ 
ing storm cone was hoisted. Bo I was not altogether surprised 
to find, on ascending the cliff again, that the change had 
come. The wind had freshened and was blowing half a gale 
from E.S.E., with scuds of driving rain flying along from 
the high ground inland. What a contrast this wind-swept 
grassy down presented ! I had left behind the flowery cliff, 
the Martins, and the butterflies, and now one or two Linnets 
or a Wheatear, flying to more sheltered quarters, were the only 
sign of life ; and the flora was made up of patches of deli¬ 
cately coloured pink Thrift, stunted Heather, and the Carline 
Thistle, whose liygrometric petals had curled up against the 
rain. In the bed of a disused stone pit, affording a little 
shelter, tall plants of the Foxglove and Great Woolly Mullein 
flourished. 
The number of ordinarv sea birds which one meets with 
«/ 
here at this season is rather disappointing, when we consider 
the near proximity of that great bird nursery, Lundy Island, 
as well as the lesser one at Baggy Point. Most of the birds 
should have left their breeding cliffs by mid-August to spread 
along the coast; but the Guillemots, Puffins, and Razorbills 
would be out in the tideway, and the fine weather draws the 
Gulls out to sea. I only saw one example of the Gannet, 
which has its only English breeding colony on Lundy; 
this was a fine adult bird, which appeared off Ilfracombe on 
the 15th. An old Gannet fishing in his own peculiar fashion 
is a fine sight. Smoothly, gently, and evenly he sails along 
on his long, narrow pinions ; at a little distance his plumage 
is snowy white, save for the black wing-tips, which only add 
to the beauty of the contrast with the dancing blue of a 
sunlit bay. Now he pauses in his flight, turning on his side 
as he swings round on the breeze ; then the great wings close, 
and down he comes, almost perpendicularly, with a splash on 
to the water. Almost submerged for a few seconds, the spray 
alone would hide the fisher from our view, and when next we 
see Sul a he is floating on the surface. The fish comfortably 
pouched, he turns head to wind, and, rising heavily, flaps a 
little way just over the waves before attaining his former 
elevation. The little Kittiwake is the most noticeable Gull 
here. A few individuals always affectionately haunted the 
spot where the town sewage entered the sea, and they often 
came right into the harbour basin, their delicate grey and 
white tints contrasting with the deep green background of 
shrubs and trees, as well as with the sombre hues of the 
numerous Jackdaws frequenting the wooded slope. 
