The Ancient Murrelet 
the surf in the little coves in the direction of Monterey and some were 
seen miles out from the land. In the sheltered places they chiefly fre¬ 
quented, food appeared to be abundant. They were great divers and 
swimmers under water, and voracious iu their pursuit of small fry, oc¬ 
casionally driving the fish to the surface in the eagerness of the chase. 
Often not a Murrelet would be in sight for some time. Then a pair or 
small company (the largest one observed numbered nine individuals) 
would suddenly appear from the depths. Unlike the Marbled Murrelets, 
they did not generally seek safety in flight when pursued. Neither did 
they dive as soon nor remain as long under water when keeping out of the 
way of the boat. If a white-cap developed near them they would always 
escape from it by divirjg. Although over a hundred were taken in the 
narrow belt near the surf, they were more numerous there toward 
the last than at the outset, new birds apparently coming in to take the 
places of those that had been shot.” 
Ancient Murrelets colonize in vast numbers upon various rocks and 
islands off the Alaskan shore. They nest in burrows, laying two neutral- 
tinted and elongated eggs, and the females are supported by the noc¬ 
turnal visits of the male, as in the case of the Horn-billed Puffin and other 
birds of this group. A charming account 1 of the nesting on Forrester 
Island has been written by Professor Harold Heath, of Stanford Uni¬ 
versity, from which we quote the concluding paragraphs. 
‘‘The journey of the young to the sea is one of the most interesting 
sights on the island, and by the aid of a lantern was witnessed on several 
occasions. The pilgrimage is made during the night within a day or two 
after hatching, and is evidently initiated by one or both of the parents, 
who take up a position on the sea not far from the shore. Here, about 
midnight, they commence a chorus of calls resembling the chirp of an 
English sparrow with the tremulo stop open, and in response the young, 
beautiful, black and white creatures, as active as young quails, soon pour 
in a living flood down the hillsides. Falling over roots, scrambling 
through the brush or sprawling headlong over the rocks, they race at a 
surprising rate of speed drawn by the all-compelling instinct to reach the 
sea. They may be temporarily attracted by the lantern’s light, and flutter 
aimlessly about one’s feet; but sooner or later they heed the calls and once 
more plunge down the slopes. Almost every night during these migra¬ 
tions the surf was pounding violently on the rocky beaches, and many 
times one could see the young swept off the cliffs, and after struggling 
a moment in the waves they disappeared from sight and seemed 
doomed to destruction. Notes made at this time run as iollows: ‘The 
tremendous violence of the breakers, churned to foam on the low yet 
1 The Condor, Vol. XVII., Jan. 1915, p. 35- 
