The Pigeon Guillemot 
gregarious to such an extent that one can rarely distinguish paired birds. 
On the whole, however, 1 am inclined to consider them strictly monog¬ 
amous—at least in the avian sense, which takes account of only one 
season. Sportive pursuit often takes place in the water, and the rapidity 
with which these birds can appear and disappear at the surface would be 
instructive to the aspirants of the old swimming hole. 
A cock-fight between rival suitors is apt to be quite a spirited affair. 
As they face each other upon the surface of the water, the combatants hold 
their tails, inconspicuous at other times, bolt upright; and this, with their 
open mandibles disclosing a bright red mouth and throat, gives the birds 
a somewhat formidable appearance. The actual scrimmage, however, 
is likely to take place beneath the water rather than upon it; and the 
onlooker has no means of guessing the battle’s progress till the weaker 
bird bursts from the water like a flying fish, and so by change of scene 
gains a momentary advantage of his pursuer, or owns defeat outright. 
In only one instance in California have I seen a breeding area which 
might be dignified by the name of colony. On the Southeast Farallon 
there are, or were in 1911, some two hundred birds. They nested sparingly 
all over the island and at any height, from 20 to 200 feet above tide. 
But there was one station, a great rock-slide just east of the lighthouse, 
which was entirely given over to them. Here they found shelter under 
boulders or in shaded crevices; and it was noticeable that they were almost 
always at pains to line the “nest” carefully with pebbles, granite frag¬ 
ments and bones or else with iron-flakes rusted out of the five-gallon 
kerosene cans flung from the lighthouse above. On the 3rd of June 1911, 
1 found eight nests with two eggs each, the full complement, within an 
area of sixty feet square. Hard by were six more nests in which only one 
egg had yet been deposited, besides a dozen “empties.” 
The bold spotting and blotching of the Guillemot’s egg, dark brown 
and lilac gray, on a lightly tinted or clear white ground, would argue 
an earlier or else an incipient habit of nesting in the open. And in the 
North I have found eggs which enjoyed no better protection than shadow¬ 
ing grass or weeds. The deposition of two eggs also indicates a possible 
affinity with the Murrelets, and a departure from the normal monotokous 
type of the Alcce. I have taken one set (possibly a composite, however) 
of three eggs, and the M. C. O. has a set of three taken by Mr. John J. 
Boyce near Wrangell, Alaska, which is almost certainly the product of 
one bird. 
Baby Guillemots are covered from the hour of hatching with a thick 
black down. Their feet are pale reddish black, and their bills black with a 
tiny white tip. This plumage, one may readily see, is protective only in 
so far as it comports with shadow; the young birds, therefore, have an 
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