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.
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.