BIRDS OF THE COAST.
There are few better places for watching the sea-fowl than the cliffs of the South Coast and the Isle of Wight. Not where the chalk presents its strongest face to the sea ; for there the sheer crag denies a foothold not only to the birds, but even to the creeping samphire. But when the sun rises from the sea and flushes the more broken parts of the cliff, they may be seen in hundreds ; rows of puffins in neat white waistcoats and black coats, like well-drilled City waiters ; black, solemn cormorants ; guillemots and razor-bills ; and long-winged, graceful gulls. As the red disc leaves the water, the gulls stream out over the sea, barking and whining like packs of hounds, to see if the herring-shoals have come in during the night ; and the cormorants—" Isle of Wight parsons," as the sailors call them—launch themselves heavily from the lower rocks, and fly low along the shore in > shaped wedges. Only the puffins stay to gossip and wag their heads, and talk about the young rabbits they stole yesterday, and the agreeable change which they make in a fish diet. Presently, if no herring-shoals are in sight, the gulls come sailing back ; the young ones first in their dusky feathers, and their grey-and-white parents later, some to line the rocks, while others settle on the water, and float like a fleet of yachts at anchor, and watch their visitor. If he be still and quiet, they will even alight near him on the sand, and trip daintily along where the waves break, stopping every now and then to examine the rolls of seaweed for dead crabs and fish. But these serve only to "deceive the stomach," as Mr. Stanley's phrase is. A gull's appetite needs more liberal diet, and the whole flock rise joyfully as an old white herring-gull flies in from the sea and screams to the hungry crowd. "Herrings !" he shouts, as plainly as may be. " Herrings ! Hurrah !" the pack answer; and the air is full of white wings hurrying off to the distant shoal. As they fly by, it is not difficult to dis- tinguish the species. The herring-gulls are much the largest ; the two smaller kinds which are generally with them, are the black-headed gull, and the kittiwake, a graceful, pure white bird. Sometimes, to their great disgust, they are followed by a large black gull, with much-bent wings and a formidable beak. This is the skua-gull, who seeks their company solely with a view to robbery. Even the big herring-gulls are chased and beaten, and after much noisy remonstrance, forced to drop or disgorge the captured fish.
Gulls are easily tamed, but are deadly enemies to other pets. We have known one eat a kitten and a family of white mice, and another which killed chickens and did to death a most amiable rook, who was kept in the same garden. But the strangest sea-bird pet we have known, was a young razor-bill, which was tamed by a lady who has a remarkable power in dealing with animals of all kinds, from the leopards at the Zoo, who purr when they see her, down to dormice. Though it could not fly, it could swim perfectly, and was daily carried to the beach and allowed to swim out to sea, where it would catch fish enough for a meal, and return at a whistle from its mistress.
The estuaries on the coast have an even greater variety of bird-life to amuse and interest a sea-side visitor than the cliffs ; and floating on their wide expanse of shallow waters, or threading the delta of mud-flats and rivulets that shift with every tide, is to many an experience as novel and interesting as the cries and forms of the birds that haunt them. Sheldrakes, curlews, dotterels, plovers, herons, and the like, look very different when swimming or flying, and hanging up in a poulterer's shop. What strikes a new-corner most is the great number of the waders and other wild-fowl which he sees on his first visit to any favourite estuary, such as Poole or Aldborough, especially when the flood-tide is making, and the birds are crowded together busily feeding on such parts of the mud as are not covered by the rising tide. But it must be remembered that as all these birds feed mainly on the mud-flats, and can only do so at low water, they are forced to meet at one time, and are obliged to feed together as regularly as City men at luncheon. The best way to learn the habits of the fowl is to row up on the flood-tide with a boatman,—not one of a yacht's crew, who will probably want to be back punctually for his tea, for your regular yacht hand is as particular about having his little comforts " reglar " as Sairey Gamp, and much objects to wet feet or a damp jersey; but a local fisherman, who knows the habits of the birds and the set of the tide.
Among the commonest and most interesting of the harbour ducks are the sheldrakes. They are devoted parents, and as the boat drifts up between the grey banks of ooze, the big black-and-white birds may be seen watching anxiously by the water's edge, while the young ones, full-grown, but unable to fly, swim out in mid-stream. Presently the old birds rise and fly round in swift circles, and the young ones dive. If the boat be rowed quickly towards the place where they dis- appeared, they scatter, and when they next rise only show their heads above water, diving again instantly at the slightest motion. Meantime the old bird settles some distance ahead, and presently, if the glasses are used, the young can be seen appearing suddenly from under water all round her, and the family swim off up the nearest creek. If chased into a narrow channel, the young will leave the water, and running out into the mud, poke their heads into a crevice, and allow themselves to be caught. The eggs are generally laid in a rabbit-burrow in the sand-hills ; and Sir Ralph Payne- Gallwey states that he saw one, " when the tide was low, and she was unable to lead her brood to the sea, carry them on her back, each duckling holding on by a feather, having, while she lay down, climbed up, and ensconced themselves with the greatest care." As the tide rises, duck, curlew, gulls, and waders flit to and fro, and towards dusk the stately herons fly in, and take up their station for the night. We lately discovered the use of a very curious contrivance in the heron's foot. The nail of the longest toe has a tiny comb on one side of it. This has been said to be useful in aiding the bird to "hold down its slippery prey." There were two objections to this,—first, that a heron does not hold down fish, like an osprey, with its feet; and secondly, that the comb is too delicate to be of any real use for such a purpose. But, watching a tame bird closely, we noticed that, after swallowing a few small fish, he lifted the foot slightly, and then, putting down the beak, rubbed off against the little comb-claw the fish-scales which adhered to his beak.
But the life and habits of water-fowl and sea-birds are not as well known as they should be. Perhaps this paper may suggest a few aids to closer observation during seaside visits.
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