Ravens of the Sea

FEW birds have figured more conspicuously in the folk-lore, romance and poetry of all ages than the "swarthy cormorant," whose grim personality made so strong an appeal to the imagination of the early writers. In ancient times it seenis to have beets almost the only sea bird of established identity, and the ocean nymph, who appeared to Ulysses when adrift upon his pre- carious raft, quite as a matter of course took the form of a cormorant. No self-respecting apparition of old myth or legend ever dreamed of presenting itself in the form of a herring-gull, or even a skua. The albatross was assigned a part now and again, while in more modern poetry we find occasional references to the penguin, or the petrel, who " . . . telleth her tale in vain."

As a general rule, however,

" When the ocean rolls the proudest, Through the foam the sea-bird glides."

Or the " wild seamew shrieks its way through ballad and canto," entirely irrespective of species.

The cormorant, on the contrary, possesses an identity that refuses to be ignored, and it is scarcely surprising that throughout the course of ages an atmosphere of mystery should have enveloped the great dusky pirate. That the true character of the bird has been grossly misrepresented in literature is inevitable, and by no means alters the case, while in sonic instances the most glaring libel touches in reality a substratum of truth, of which the writer, gathering his impressions mostly from hearsay, was probably entirely unconscious. Hence Grahame's "raven of the sea" in some respects touches a more realistic note than indignant repudiators of the libel might suspect at first glance. True, the cormorant lacks the raven's ferocious disposition, and though eminently formidable in his own way is far too expert a fisherman to be anything but a fastidious feeder, being thcref< r, quite innocent of the monstrous atrocities ascribed to him in the verse. The raven simile is an apt one, none the less, and can scarcely fail to 'strike anyone who happens to be familiar with the two species. It is partly, no doubt, the dark and sinister appearance of both birds and, again, the somewhat similar part that each plays in tradition and legend. Apart from this, however, they have a great deal in common, and even as the raven is unsurpassed in powers of flight, so the cormorant in his natural element comes second to none. The wonders that the raven performs when afloat on the blue air are rivalled, if not excelled, by the marvellous skill that the cormorant must display when he exercises his uncanny art deep down among the green waterweeds, where no human eye can follow his movements.

It is curious, again, that while both ravens and cor- morants arc the most solitary and wild of their kind, of all birds they are the most easily domesticated, each in his peculiar way responding readily to human teaching and human influence. The -cormorant is perhaps the more sociable bird of the two. True, he carries on his singularly effective fishing, like a true master of the craft, alone. He nests, however, in company with many of his fellows, though this is doubtless an instance of a common need rather than a matter of choice. He possesses a decidedly sociable bent, however, and the sight of another of his kind at rest upon a rock is more than he can resist. However pressing his business, he must needs alight beside his acquaintance, and as many more birds as may happen to come along (13 likewise. One of the quaintest spectacles that I ever witnessed was provided by fifteen of the great dusky freebooters grouped in a solemn circle, like a concourse of goblins, upon the distinctly circumscribed summit of a rocky "nab " on the North Yorkshire coast—a point that, incidentally, Overlooks the famous reef upon which the pirate ship bearing the stolen bells of St. Hilda's Abbey came to grief.

The fifteen grotesque, uncanny-looking figures made an arresting picture as they sat perched upon their rocky fortress against whose foundations the mountainous North Sea rollers thundered incessantly. There one could imagine them sitting as solemn as judges, year in, year out, while the "wild sea horses" play at their feet and the ghostly chime of the buried bells echo, according to local tradition, across the wintry waves. So still they sat they might almost have been statues rough-carved from the surrounding shale, until now and again one of the number would stand erect, give a few vigorous flaps by way of prelude, then, steadying himself, remain with Iris wings spread to their entire ample stretch, and, to all appearance, motionless ; so continuing, like Moses, for a positively incredible period, until one's own arms almost ached in sympathy. When at last the curious display ended and the performer resumed his normal attitude, another would follow suit, and each, perhaps, would have "done his turn" had I not broken up the assembly by trying to obtain a nearer view.

The cormorant, like other sea birds, is an odd mixture of temerity and wariness. It will fish for hours on end in a busy harbour, unperturbed by the proximity of human beings, whether afloat within a few yards of it or moving upon the quayside, but a human intruder upon the solitary shore assumes a very different character. In this ease, approaching across some flat rocks left bare by the receding tide, may advance was greeted with immediate suspicion. Every bird stood to attention, its long neck erect, its keen fishy eyes taking careful stock of my movements, and soon, with one accord, they rose. Sliding .silently from the rock, their dark spectral forms drifted away like cloud-shadows across the grey waste of waters, leaving the lonely little " nab " in the safe Custody of the hersing7gulls, whose Wild, wailing cries

mingled appropriately with the roar of the breakers and the fitful tolling of a bell-buoy far out upon a distant reef.

Though widely distributed along our coast-line, the cormorant can only be described as local in his haunts. One may easily pass along a hundred miles of cliff or shore without observing a single specimen. This is part ieularly the ease in the south and west, where the cormorant ill many localities is now practically unknown. His repre- sentative along the Cornish Peninsula being the shag, with which species he is indeed frequently confused. Cormorants and shags are rarely found in equal quant it one species or other usually attaining a marked pre- dominance, but whether this is a case of two of a track failing to agree, or the respective requirements of the two species differing somewhat, is an open question.

Apart from its gregarious propensities at such times the cormorant again somewhat resembles t he raven in its nesting habits, since it usually builds high upon sonic- inaccessible cliff, making a bulky nest of sticks or seaweed, to which it returns year after year until the structure assumes monstrous proportions. There are places, I believe, where the birds nest, like a colony of rooks, in high trees. Others have been known to build upon marshy ground among rushes. Its general habits, how- ever, strongly suggest that this species pairs for life - yet another trait shared with the raven and its congeners. The shag differs from its larger relative in that it prefers to nest in dark caverns and fissures among the cliffs and rocks ; the eggs, however, differ only in size, being sea- green clouded with a curious but perishable white film.

The custom of training cormorants to fish, upon the same principle as the training of falcons for corresponding purposes, is still widely practised in the East. Whitelock tells us that he possessed " a east of them, manned like hawks, which would come to hand," and apparently took great pride in tlse possession of one bird presented to bins by a certain Mr. Wood, who held the now scarcely conceivable post of " master of the Cormorants " to

Charles I. One hopes the of will never be revived, and that, disliked as he is by the fisherman, the bird may long continue to haunt our shores, where since time immemorial he has been a characteristic figure : — " 'Mid stormy vapours ever driving by,

Where et:preys, cormorants, and is-rota cry,"

aptly suggests the conditions in Wordsworth's day, and though the osprey, alas! no longer figures in our avifauna, there is no reason why the heron and the cormorant should follow bins into banishment.

Doi:di-1S GM( DON.