ON SEA AND SHORE.
It is the bird-life of sea and shore especially that renders these
northern shires so much more interesting than the littoral counties of
the south and west. Compared with these the southern coasts seem tame
and deserted, indeed. This is principally due not only to the fact
that so many marine species breed in northern areas only, but also to
the much greater strength of migration generally along the coasts. All
along the coast from Lincolnshire northwards to the Firth of Forth,
and onwards to the Hebrides, St. Kilda, the Orkneys and the Shetlands,
we have vast and varied bird populations, not only scattered up and
down the shore, but congested here and there where the sea-fowl in
unnumbered hosts congregate to rear their broods. The southern counties
present us with nothing approaching to this; the wealth and variety of
the marine avifauna of the northern shires is one of the most pleasing
of their many characteristics.
For the sake of comparison we may here state that along the entire
coast-line of South Devon--embracing some of the finest cliff scenery
in England and full of sandy reaches, rolling downs, rocky islets
and stacks, and lengths of shingle and sand--there are but two
typical marine species (at most three, if we include the doubtful
Oyster-catcher) that breed, and one only of these, the Herring Gull,
in any numbers; the other, the Ringed Plover, is local and nowhere
numerous! But how very different is the case when we get round the
English coast as far as the Wash and enter that area which for the
purposes of the present work we describe as the northern shires. Let us
follow this line of varied coast, with its alternating lengths of sand
and shingle, buttress-like cliffs, rocky shores, and islets round to
the Forth, and briefly glance at the several species that frequent it
and breed upon it in succession. We will, however, leave for a future
chapter the birds that are more strictly confined to the sea-cliffs,
and deal with those only that nest either along the flat shores or low
rocky islands.
[Illustration: 1. The Lesser Tern. 2. The Ringed Plover.]
The first two species that we shall meet with during summer on the
sandy reaches of the Lincolnshire coast are the Lesser Tern and the
Ringed Plover. The first-named of these is a summer migrant and a late
one. We remark it passing up the Devon coast early in May; it reaches
its breeding-places by the middle or the third week in that month on
the Lincolnshire and Yorkshire coasts, but is later still in Scotland.
The return passage is made towards the end of August and through
September. Incidentally we may remark that not only this but the other
British species of Tern often continue their migrations at night. We
have frequently heard the well-known note sounding from the darkened
air as flocks of these birds passed north or south along the coast, a
short distance from shore. The Lesser Tern breeds in May. It makes no
nest, but deposits two or three eggs upon the bare shingle, in spots
where the debris of the shore is large--pebbles, broken shells, and
the like--not on the fine sand. We may remark that we have taken as
many as four eggs in a clutch from this part of the coast. The eggs
are very difficult to see on the rough shingle, and during our search
for them the distressed little birds flutter and beat about the air
uttering their shrill note incessantly, peering down most anxiously,
yet displaying no increased alarm when they are actually found and
taken. It is a most unfortunate circumstance that this Tern prefers
the coast of the mainland to an island for breeding purposes. To this
fact its absolute extermination is largely due in not a few localities.
There can be no doubt that the three or four other British Terns would
have shared the same fate, and become rare and local long ago, in
England especially, had they not bred in much less accessible spots,
as on the Farne Islands, for instance. Upon the same coast the Ringed
Plover also breeds. This bird is a resident in the British Islands,
but subject to a good deal of local movement during autumn and winter.
We shall find, however, that it always prefers to deposit its four
pear-shaped eggs upon the finest brown sand, where scarce a pebble or
a shell can be seen. The reason for this curious choice is because the
eggs are only spotted, not blotched, and therefore they best resemble
such a resting-place as is chosen for them. They would be much more
conspicuous upon the shingle where the Tern's eggs rest. Both eggs have
a buff ground-colour closely resembling the sand, but those of one
bird are heavily marked to harmonize with shingle, those of the other
finely spotted to imitate grains of sand. These birds, again, evince
little or no anxiety during our search for their eggs; they seem fully
aware that the best policy is to leave them to the safety ensured by
their protective coloration. They are laid in Lincolnshire in June,
and fresh eggs of both species may be got together during that month;
and during the daytime the nearly vertical sun renders incubation
scarcely necessary. Both these species may be found breeding here and
there along the shore right up to the Humber, and from Spurn still
farther northwards until the coast assumes a more rocky character as
we approach the famous Flamborough headland. When we reach the rocks a
little Passerine bird makes its appearance, and this is the Rock Pipit.
As its name implies--and it is a most appropriate one--the bird is only
found breeding on a rocky shore. Given this, its distribution round
our entire coast-line is a very general one. It breeds as commonly on
the rocky shores of Devon as on the Hebrides and the Farne Islands;
but there are no Rock Pipits on the flat coast-line between the Thames
and the Humber. We meet with it again, however, here on the Yorkshire
coast, and cannot easily mistake it, for it is about the only small
bird that dwells in such a haunt during summer.
[Illustration: Sheldrakes.]
Travelling northwards again until we reach the coast of Northumberland,
where between the towns of North Sunderland and Berwick we shall find
another length of shore of great interest to the ornithologist. Indeed
between these two points are situated the famous Farne Islands, the
grandest and most imposing haunt of sea-birds round the entire English
coast. On the mainland, nearly opposite to the Farne Islands, there is
a long reach of sand dunes between the sea and the cultivated land,
and these are frequented by at least one bird of exceptional interest.
We may dismiss the Gulls that beat along in restless flight, and pay
small attention to the Common Buntings that here justify their name,
and for the time being confine our observations to the Sheldrakes that
haunt this part of the coast. These sand dunes are an ideal locality
for such a bird. Should the tide chance to be out, more likely than
not this species will be detected upon them. It is a shy and wary
fowl, though, and we need the aid of our powerful binocular to bring
it within range of much detailed scrutiny. This Duck is to our mind
quite the handsomest of its family in our islands, a combination of
very pronounced black, white, and chestnut, with a dash of crimson
and pink on bill and legs thrown in. You may watch it thus through
your glass walking in a somewhat stately way, not waddling like a more
typical Duck; but should you attempt a much nearer scrutiny the big
bird unfolds its broad party-coloured wings and seeks a more secluded
resting-place. Should the time be high-water, and the blue sparkling
sea reaches almost up to the links, most probably a few Sheldrakes will
be observed flying over the water up or down the coast. The flight is
very characteristic, unlike that of the true Ducks, more like that
of a Goose or a Swan, the wings moved up and down with slow measured
strokes, so very different from the rapid beats of the bird's Anatine
relations. In this species the sexes are very similar in colour; indeed
the chief external difference is the absence of the frontal shield
from the female. Following the almost universal law, this conspicuous
hen bird takes good care to conceal herself from enemies during the
critical period of incubation, and lays her eggs at the end of a long
and often winding burrow in the sand. In this particular district a
rabbit hole is almost invariably selected, and some of the chosen
burrows are so intricate that we may spend hours in the fruitless
search for the exact position of the nest. This is usually made at
the end of the burrow, and consists in the first place of a handful
of dry grass--possibly a rabbit's old abode; but as the creamy-white
and fragile eggs accumulate (to the number of a dozen or sometimes
more) the old birds surround them with down of exquisite softness and
lavender-gray in colour. As is generally the case where both sexes are
showy, and incubate in covered or concealed nests, the male bird takes
his due share in the duty of hatching; but so careful are the birds
in relieving each other--usually at morning and evening--that they
seldom betray the whereabouts of the nest. The young birds, soon after
being hatched, quit the burrow and betake themselves in their parents'
company to the sea-shore. In this locality the bird is certainly
becoming rarer owing to the way the young are captured and the eggs
taken by fishermen and others. We once inspected an entire brood of a
dozen ducklings that a fisher lad was rearing at Seahouses. He had them
confined in a small pen and fed them chiefly upon sand-hoppers, which
they were marvellously adept at capturing as he threw them down one by
one amongst the downy little creatures. From Holy Island right round to
the Forth, this Duck may be met with breeding, preferring in the latter
locality the numerous sandy islets. Round the coasts of Scotland it
becomes even more numerous and widely dispersed.
We will now retrace our steps to the Farne Islands and make a brief
inspection of such birds that build their nests on the flat surface,
reserving the cliff-haunting species for our next chapter. Repeated
visits to these islands only increase their charm. A single visit is
bewildering, renewed acquaintance impresses their wonders upon us
and enables us fully to realize the grandeur of the scene and more
completely to enjoy the avine wonders of the place. Apart from their
bird-life, there is a strong human interest clinging to them, for Grace
Darling casts a halo of romance around them by her daring deed long
years ago, and which is still a stock subject for conversation up and
down the coast. These rocky islands lying a few miles off the shore
are nowadays almost a perfect sanctuary for sea-birds. This was not
always so; for we can recall the time when the eggs especially were
gathered in such a wholesale way that the wonder is there were any
sea-birds left there. Strict protection is now the rule, and visitors
are generally kept under such close supervision that the lifting of
an egg without permission is almost an impossibility. There are, of
course, a good many birds on and off these islands at all times of
the year; now and then, especially in winter or during migration
time, a rare straggler of some non-indigenous British species appears,
and the light-keepers have repeatedly assured us that at intervals
the sea around them during winter often swarms with Ducks and other
northern birds. It is, however, in spring and summer that the islands
become crowded with their normal inhabitants--Gulls, Terns, Eider
Ducks, Cormorants, Ringed Plovers, Oyster-catchers, Guillemots, and
Puffins--assembled there for the express purpose of rearing their
young. One of the most characteristic birds of the islands is the
Lesser Black-backed Gull--in fact the entire group may be regarded as
one vast colony of this species, and perhaps the most densely populated
one throughout the length and breadth of the British archipelago. These
birds return to the islands--coming from the south from many parts of
the German Ocean and the English Channel--early in spring, but the
exact date varies a good deal in different years. In some seasons they
return _en masse_ as early as from the middle to the end of March;
in other seasons not before the middle of April. A month later they
are engaged in nesting duties. The date of breeding, however, varies
little, and the eggs are invariably laid during May and June. On
approaching some of the islands, the first impression is that this
Gull monopolizes the whole of the ground, as it occurs in such vast
abundance. The air seems full of them, the ground and bare rocks are
crowded; and as our boat finally grates against the rough beach and
we eagerly jump ashore all becomes noisy excitement--a perfect babel
of protesting cries that is persistently kept up until we leave the
place. We shall find that the nests vary a good deal in size, some
being little more than hollows trampled out amongst the dense beds of
campion and thrift, others more substantial and composed of pieces
of turf, sea-weed, stalks of herbage and grass. The eggs are three or
four in number, and subject to an incredible amount of variation in
colour--greens, olives, browns, and grays of almost every possible
shade representing the shell tints; browns and grays the markings,
which take the form of round spots, blotches, streaks, either evenly
distributed over most of the surface, scattered here and there, or
forming zones round the end. Right through the summer these Gulls are
employed in rearing their young, the period being unusually prolonged
because so many of the first clutches of eggs are taken for culinary
and other purposes. During the latter part of August and throughout
September these Gulls and their young leave the islands and work their
way southwards, scattering far and wide over the seas, following the
shoals of herrings and sprats and other fish, some of them possibly
wandering as far as the Spanish and north-west African coasts. A few
Herring Gulls breed here and there among the other species, but this
bird has very few large colonies in the northern shires. This is the
one species of Gull that breeds on the south coast of Devon, and there
its colonies are larger than any we have visited elsewhere in the
British Islands. Scattered pairs, however, may be met with here and
there along the coasts, and in some few inland spots throughout the
northern shires. The Kittiwake also breeds in numbers at the Farnes,
but we will reserve our notice of it for a later chapter.
[Illustration: The Lesser Black-backed Gull.]
Next to the Lesser Black-backed Gull the Terns are certainly the most
numerous and most interesting birds. Three out of the five British
species return each spring to these famous islands to breed. The
Roseate Tern, rarest of all the indigenous species, used formerly
to breed here, but it eventually became extinct, although from time
to time an odd pair or so are observed in their old-time haunts, so
that the bird may re-establish itself in them, more especially as
the sea-birds are now so strictly preserved there. The three regular
breeding species are the Sandwich Tern, the Common Tern, and the Arctic
Tern. All are summer migrants only to the British Islands. The Sandwich
Tern, by far the largest of the three species, arrives at the islands
during the last half of April, as a rule, but some seasons is not seen
until the beginning of May. There is much in their early movements
that reminds us of the actions of Rooks just previous to nesting.
Every morning for perhaps a month after their arrival they assemble
at the islands and stay for a short time, previous to dispersing over
the surrounding sea to search for food, lingering longer and longer
as the actual breeding time approaches, until they finally decide
upon a spot to nest, and about a week after this the first eggs are
laid. The laying season lasts a month, say from the middle of May
until the middle of June. The earliest young may be remarked about the
latter date, and from that time onwards rapidly increase in numbers
from day to day. July is a busy month indeed for the parent birds.
In exceptionally early seasons some of the young are able to fly by
the beginning of August, and by the end of the month the birds quit
the breeding-place, and finally desert the vicinity of the islands
during the first week in September. Sometimes the autumn exodus is
made, but the birds return in a day or so and linger about the islands
before finally taking their departure south. The Sandwich Terns do
not always breed in exactly the same spot every season. Sometimes an
exceptionally high spring-tide will wash away most of the eggs, and
then the poor birds move to another situation, perhaps to another
island, and try again. This happened in the summer of 1883, and we saw
the beach literally strewn with broken egg-shells, the sole remains of
the wrecked colony. On our way from the beach towards the barer rising
ground in the centre, where the main colony chances to be established,
we pass many outlying nests, not only of this Tern, but of Gulls and
Eiders. Birds are rising from all parts of the ground, and gradually
congregating into a dense bewildering, drifting, noisy throng above
our heads. At last we reach the colony of Sandwich Terns, and there we
find for an area of many square yards the ground literally covered so
closely with eggs that to walk amongst them without breaking them is
almost an impossible feat, not only because the nests are but a few
feet apart, but because the eggs themselves so closely resemble the
ground in colour. The nests are slight enough, many of them nothing
but hollows in the ground, some of them with a few bits of weed and
grass loosely arranged, and chiefly round the margin. The two, or less
frequently three, eggs are very beautiful objects, and vary enormously
in the character of the markings. The ground colour may be any shade
between rich buff and dull white; the markings are brown of many
shades, and ink-gray. These latter vary considerably in shape and size,
from large irregular blotches that conceal nearly a third of the shell
to splashes, spots, and streaks, sometimes distributed over the entire
surface, or in zones, or irregularly here and there. During the whole
period of our stay the birds remain above us, fluttering and gliding to
and fro uttering shrill notes of alarm.
The Arctic Tern, on an average, arrives later than the preceding
species, generally about the first week in May, sometimes not before
the third week in that month. A week or so elapses before the birds
finally settle down to nesting duties, so that the eggs are seldom
laid before June, exceptionally during the last few days of May. As a
rule the breeding season is over by August, and the bulk of the birds
quit the islands in the first week of September. In later seasons they
may not leave until the end of that month, and a few in rare instances
linger into October. The eggs are generally laid close to the water's
edge, and so far as our experience extends (and that is a rather wide
one, for we have visited colonies in many parts of the British area) no
nest is ever made for their reception. They are placed upon the bare
sand and shingle, and upon the line of rubbish that marks the limit
of the highest water-mark. Two or three eggs are laid for a clutch,
varying from buff to olive and pale-green in ground colour, heavily
spotted and blotched with brown of many shades, and gray. Lastly, we
have the Common Tern, a bird that arrives and departs at about the same
dates as the preceding species. We generally found the breeding-places
of this Tern at a greater distance from the water than those of the
Arctic Tern, amongst the grass and sea campion on the higher parts of
the island. As our boat approaches the nursery of this Tern, numbers of
birds may be seen squatting on the beach or swimming about in the rock
pools. These are the first to take alarm, and as we finally land others
rise from the island, and the air is soon filled with screaming birds.
The colony is established on some rising bare ground, and the eggs are
laid in scanty nests--hollows lined with bits of grass and stalks of
marine plants. The eggs, two or three in number, very closely resemble
those of the Arctic Tern, but are larger, rounder, and never appear to
have any olive or green tint on the shell.
[Illustration: The Eider Duck.]
Many pairs of Eider Ducks also breed upon the Farne Islands, placing
their nests amongst the campion and long grass, in crevices of the
lichen-covered rocks, or in holes in the ruins that are to be found on
some of the islets. These Eiders are remarkably tame, and allow the
observer to watch them as they brood over their eggs. The male birds,
however, are much shyer, and never come near the nests at all, spending
most of their time upon the sea off the islands. Then the Ringed Plover
breeds here in small numbers, also the Oyster-catcher (a noisy, shy
bird enough), and not a few Rock Pipits. Upon an outlying reef the
Cormorants have their colony--a dirty, evil-smelling spot, which
apparently by common consent is shunned by all the other species. This
islet is low, not more than a dozen feet above the sea in its highest
part, sloping to the water's edge on one side. Where the huge nests of
the Cormorants are built there is scarcely a trace of any vegetation;
everything is more or less covered with droppings, and decaying fish
are strewn here and there--the whole place smelling most offensively
on a calm hot day. These nests are made of sea-weed, stalks of marine
plants and turf, and many are lined with green herbage. The three or
four long oval eggs are pale-green, but so thickly coated with lime and
dirt that all trace of this is hidden until they are washed and well
scraped.
The Farnes are also a great breeding resort of the Puffin (called
"Coulter-neb" by some people because its beak closely resembles the
coulter of a plough), some of the islands being so undermined by their
burrows that almost every few steps we sink deep into the soft loamy
soil. During the non-breeding season these birds disperse far and wide
over the sea, roaming immense distances from their birthplace, but as
spring arrives they collect at the old familiar spots to rear their
young. Puffins cannot be regarded as common about the Farne Islands
until April, but from then until the end of the following August they
are one of the most abundant species at them, although, owing to
their subterranean habits, the fact is not very palpable to ordinary
observation. These birds excavate a long burrow in the soft soil, often
extending many yards underground, and at the end, upon a handful of dry
grass perhaps mixed with a few feathers, the hen bird lays a solitary
egg, dull-white in colour, very sparingly marked with pale-brown and
gray. When the colony is approached such birds as may chance to be
above ground soon betake themselves to the sea; those in the burrows
remain to be dug out before they will usually budge from their egg,
resenting this by bites and scratches dealt in the most savage manner.
There is something immensely ludicrous about the look of a Puffin as
you drag the struggling bird into the daylight; but we would warn those
who might essay the experiment to encase their hands in strong gloves,
or they may repent the business. Had space permitted, we should have
liked to say something about the curious transformation the beak of
this bird undergoes as the pairing season approaches, but we must wait
for a future opportunity. Most, in fact all, of these species breed
in many other parts of the coasts of the northern shires, but we have
elected to describe them here, for the Farne Islands are probably the
most accessible locality and admirably situated for studying all these
birds within a very small area.
The bird-life at sea off our northern shires is replete with interest
at all seasons of the year. In summer, in the neighbourhood of the
great breeding colonies of sea-fowl, the surrounding seas for many
miles are full of animation, the birds scattering from these home
centres far and wide in quest of their finny prey. What a variety of
birds we meet with thus, each searching in its own peculiar way for
sustenance! How varied their actions; how diversified their habits and
economy! In winter these self-same waters are the home of countless
birds that migrate from arctic latitudes to spend that season where
food is ever plentiful and the water always open. Hordes of Ducks and
Geese swell the more sedentary avine populations, or replace such
species as Terns, that migrate or wander south with the approach of
winter. Vast numbers of Divers and birds of the Auk tribe move south
to these seas off the northern shires; Gulls in uncounted hosts do
the same. At varying distances from the land armies of these sea-fowl
migrate south in autumn and north in spring; sometimes for days in
succession Gulls or Skuas, Terns, Gannets, Guillemots, and so on pass
to and fro according to season, these avine movements being on a much
grander scale than ever we remark on our southern coast lines.
[Illustration: Gulls and Terns.]
From shore, on this bright May morning, for instance, there is nothing
to indicate that much of special interest is to be seen among the
birds at sea. From where we stand, near the old-fashioned little quay
of this northern fishing village, redolent of tar and stale fish, the
sparkling water right away to the headland yonder, and still beyond
to the line of the horizon where blue sky and blue sea seem to meet
in an indistinct haze, is apparently deserted of bird-life. But we
will get aboard this well-found taut little coble, hoist the brown
sail and put her nose before the spanking breeze, and see what birds
we may fall in with during a few hours' cruise. Behind the headland
yonder, and at no great distance from land, a mixed company of Terns
are fishing. There are few prettier sights than this amongst bird-life
on the sea, especially should a shoal of fry chance to be swimming
close to the surface. Above the moving mass of glittering fish the
snow-white looking Terns flutter and poise and drift to and fro in a
constantly-changing throng; many birds are swimming above the shoal,
and every few moments one of the flying Terns drops down like a
stone into the water with a splash that we can hear half a mile or
more across the sea. The force with which they descend is scarcely
sufficient to immerse their light bodies, and before the spray has
cleared the bird is either up again into the air, or swallowing
the captured fish whilst sitting on the surface. A few Gulls are
flying about close by, but these birds prefer larger game; although
occasionally they will chase a Tern that may chance to be passing
with a tiny fish and endeavour to make the poor little bird drop its
capture. Out in the offing the Gulls are much more numerous, for there
the fishing fleet is at work, and the birds hover around ready to pick
up any unconsidered trifles that may chance to come in their way. A
mile or so off the headland the sea is literally alive with birds of
the Auk tribe that are breeding on the long range of cliffs. Here we
renew our acquaintance with the comical-looking Puffins--hundreds of
them swimming about, diving at intervals, preening their plumage, and
disporting themselves generally. Many of them allow the bows of the
coble almost to reach them before they dive with startling speed and
reappear some distance ahead or astern, the first thing they do upon
reaching the surface again being to look about in all directions for
any possible further danger. Mingled amongst them are the Guillemots
and Razorbills, the one bird easily identified by its long pointed
bill, the other by its deep flattened one crossed with a conspicuous
white line on either side. The Razorbill may be further distinguished
by the white streak of plumage which runs from the base of the upper
mandible to the eye. In the Ringed Guillemot, a form of the Common
Guillemot, the white streak extends backwards behind the eye. Both
birds are very similar in their actions out here at sea, swimming
and diving with great celerity. Here and there small parties of one
species or the other may be seen flying swiftly along just above the
waves on their way to or from the headland where they are now breeding.
They feed on fish--here in these northern waters young herrings and
coal-fish are favourite fare--crustaceans, and molluscs, chasing the
former with great dexterity through the water, searching for the latter
in soundings amongst the weed and rocks. We shall have more to say
about these Auks in the following chapter. They are all resident in
British seas, coming to the land in summer to breed, and during the
remainder of the year wandering far and wide over the waste of waters,
and then visiting coasts and estuaries and harbours where they are
never seen during the season of reproduction. Here and there in our
northern waters, but only off the western coast-line during summer, we
may frequently fall in with Petrels and Shearwaters. These birds are
the most pelagic of all, and only visit the land to breed. The Fulmar
is the largest indigenous British species, and looks very like a Gull
as it flies about over the water. The Manx Shearwater comes next in
size, but it is a dark-plumaged bird on the upper parts, only white
below. Its long wings are very noteworthy, as it skims and dashes about
round our boat. The Fork-tailed Petrel comes next in point of size.
This and the following species are more nocturnal in their habits,
but equally as pelagic as the foregoing. Lastly we have the Stormy
Petrel--the smallest of web-footed birds--perhaps the most widely
and commonly distributed of all, and often met with not only in our
northern seas during summer, but as far to the south as the English
Channel, in which it has at least one known nesting station. None of
these birds are known to breed anywhere along the east coast of England
or Scotland. The typical Petrels may be readily identified by the
sooty-black plumage, relieved by a patch of white across the rump and
the upper tail-coverts. These small Petrels rarely alight upon the sea
to swim notwithstanding their webbed feet. They flutter often close to
the big waves, and may then be seen to drop their legs downwards and to
pat the water with their feet, seeming sometimes literally to run down
the glassy surface of some huge roller. We shall have occasion to enter
into more details respecting all these Petrels in the following chapter.
Then during the wild winter months many parts of the sea off the
northern shires teem with bird-life, much of it consisting of migrants
from the arctic regions. Vast flocks of Scaups and Scoters hang about
these northern waters; companies of Eiders and Long-tailed Ducks
especially may be met with long distances from land. Flocks of Scoters
may occasionally be seen upon these waters all the summer through,
and we have heard of Pink-footed Geese also apparently foregoing
their usual summer journey to the north. In mid-winter large flocks
of Sheldrakes frequent various parts of the North Sea, whilst Wigeon
and Mallard often occur in enormous numbers. Occasionally during
winter the rare King Eider is detected in company with the commoner
species. The congregations of Brent Geese (in some years but not in
others) that assemble off the lower-lying coasts especially are also a
feature of winter bird-life at sea. Indeed, we should state that the
latter season is by far the best for birds in such a locality, for the
land is then only visited under exceptional circumstances. Lastly, we
might allude to the Gannet. During summer this bird assembles at a few
recognized breeding-stations round the British coasts, and here we hope
presently to visit them; but throughout the remainder of the year it is
a thoroughly pelagic species, and wanders south down both east and west
coast-lines to the English Channel and even beyond. There are few more
charming sights amongst bird-life at sea than a company of Gannets when
fully on the feed. Sometimes they may be watched from the shore, at
others they pursue their labours far out at sea. The way the big white
birds hurl themselves down into the water from hundreds of feet above
is most impressive, especially if the sun is shining full upon them.
Then their magnificent powers of flight are very attractive to us, as
we watch them by the hour together sailing to and fro above the water
at vast heights on never-tiring wings.
Space forbids but a passing allusion to the bird-life upon the
mud-flats of the Wash during autumn and winter. We shall, however, have
another opportunity of dealing with this area more especially in our
final chapter relating to migration in the northern shires.