But the most important bird of all in the entire group of islands is the far-famed Fulmar. Its numbers here would be very difficult to estimate even approximately, but some faint idea may be derived from the fact that the St. Kildans are reputed to take, during one special week in August which custom has long reserved for the purpose, no less than twenty thousand young birds! To these we must add the numbers of old birds that are snared on their nests during the hatching season; whilst we must also bear in mind that comparatively a small proportion of birds are caught at all. Darwin had certainly strong grounds for asserting that the Fulmar is the most numerous bird in the world. Without being held in any way to support an assertion which is so difficult of proof, we may certainly state that no other sea-bird breeds in such vast numbers anywhere in the British archipelago. The Fulmar commences to breed in May, the eggs being laid from the middle of that month onwards to early June. Unlike the Shearwaters and the more typical Petrels, this bird rarely makes a burrow big enough to hide itself, but is content to scratch out a hollow in the soil, or even to deposit its egg on ledges of the cliffs. In some parts of the cliffs the nests are so close to each other that from a distance the birds seem crowded together into great white masses. Beyond a small portion of dry grass the Fulmar makes no nest, although some we found on Doon were hollows lined with small bits of rock. The single egg is white, rough in texture, and with a strong pungent smell. Of all the varied scenes of bird-life that it has been our good fortune to witness, not one has been quite so impressive as that we witnessed from a shoulder of Connacher, when, after a stiff climb from the village, we suddenly came upon the assembly of Fulmars at their nests. The first thing that impressed us was the silence of it all. We had hitherto been so used to a noisy din as an inseparable accompaniment to a gathering of sea-fowl that the silence of these Fulmars seemed almost weirdly strange. We can only compare this scene to a dense snow-storm in which each flake was a separate bird. In an apparently never-ending throng the big white birds drifted by, those nearest to the cliffs passing in one direction, those farther out at sea going directly opposite. There seemed thus to be two streams of birds passing and repassing each other, whilst as far as the eye could reach the air was filled with gliding fluttering birds—some of them so indifferent to our presence that they approached almost within arm’s-length. No birds were flying over the land, all were above the water or floating on its surface far down below. We stood looking at the wonderful scene for quite an hour literally spellbound; and even now, after the lapse of many years, we can see the whole thing again as we write these lines, graven as it is indelibly upon the memory. There was a strange indescribable fascination about the whole scene which held us to the spot, and many times during our fortnights sojourn upon these islands we wended our way alone to the summit of the cliffs to sit there and watch the comings and the goings of these wonderful birds. Even more impressive still does all again become when viewed from the sea below. Then the masses of birds, as they appear to fall away from the rock face, literally darken the air and overpower us with their numbers.
The St. Kildans are expert fowlers, snaring the Fulmars as they sit upon their nests, with long rods to which a horse-hair noose is attached. The birds that breed here are the source of the St. Kildans' wealth; thousands of them are killed and salted for food; thousands of eggs are taken for a similar purpose. When caught, the Petrels are made to vomit a quantity of oil into the dried gullet of a Gannet that the fowler carries attached to him; and this oil, together with the feathers from these birds, Gannets and others, are also a further source of income.
MIGRATION IN THE NORTHERN SHIRES.
We propose to bring the present volume to a close by a brief review of the more salient features of avine migration in the northern shires, especially as it is presented on the coasts of Lincolnshire and Yorkshire, and in some of the river-valleys in the south of the latter county. It is perhaps in the migration of birds that comparisons become most pronounced between the avine characteristics of the northern and south-western counties of England. In the latter area, as we have already pointed out, not only in our volume dealing with the season-flight of British birds, but in another devoted to bird-life in a southern county, migration is almost as remarkable for what it omits as for what it includes; the south-west peninsula of England being singularly poor in migrational phenomena. In the northern shires, on the other hand, the story of migration is unfolded every season in all its wondrous grandeur, and along our eastern sea-board, especially in autumn, birds in uncounted hosts pass to and fro in a way more impressive than any words can tell. Another thing, there is infinitely more local movement amongst birds in the northern shires than in the southern and south-western counties. The former area is subject to much greater climatic vicissitudes, to sudden falls of temperature, and heavy snow-storms, disturbances that have a marked effect upon birds, and cause them to wander to an extent seldom remarked in the south-west, where conditions are much more equable and the temperature uniformly higher. For instance, we believe the isotherm of January in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire is about 37°, whilst in the south-west of England it is as high as 43°. In one way the southern counties possess perhaps an exceptional migrational interest, from the fact that they are the first point of arrival as they are the last of departure of birds moving north or south into or from the British area. But many of the northern shires are exceptionally fortunate, for on their coast-line breaks that mighty tide of east-to-west migration in autumn, as also that from the north and north-east at that season, together with the departures in the reverse direction in spring—movements which are but faintly or never indicated at all in the south-west of England. In that remote district the tide of migration from the north and north-east is comparatively weak and exhausted by the time it is reached.
In spring, migration in the northern shires is to some extent, and in certain directions, perceptibly less marked than it is in many of the southern counties, especially as regards our normal summer migrants. It is, on the other hand, more emphasized in connection with the spring departure of birds that breed in northerly or easterly localities beyond the British area, and also perhaps in so far as it relates to the coasting migration of certain species. Here in the northern shires, as elsewhere, the first indication of migratory movement among the birds is the departure of some of the species that have been spending the winter in them. But so far as South Yorkshire is concerned, perhaps we ought to say that migration is absolutely initiated by the return of the Song Thrush at the end of January or early in February, and of many Blackbirds at the beginning of the latter month—individuals breeding in this district, but leaving it in November. The movement may be small and comparatively unimportant, nevertheless it is to be remarked by the careful observer of birds. There is also some slight movement north or north-east of the Redwing and the Fieldfare; whilst Song Thrushes and Blackbirds that have been wintering in the southern portions of our islands begin to migrate towards continental and perhaps North British haunts. The same remarks also apply to the Robin, the Greenfinch, the Linnet, the Chaffinch, the Tree Sparrow,[3] the Snow Bunting, the Sky-lark, and the Shore Lark especially. Starlings, Jackdaws, and Rooks also initiate a migrational movement during February; and there is also some evidence to show that Sparrow-hawks, Bitterns, Geese, Swans, many Ducks, Ring Doves, Golden Plovers, Lapwings, Woodcocks and Snipes, Redshanks, Curlews, Little Auks, the three British species of Divers, and the Red-necked and Sclavonian Grebes are at least in movement of a definite character. This applies not only to an actual departure from our shores, but to a coasting movement across them from winter stations still farther south. With the exception, perhaps, of the Shore Lark and the two species of Swans, the migration can only be regarded as slight, and becomes in the majority of cases much more emphasized in the following month, more especially as concerns the Song Thrush, the Greenfinch, the Linnet, the Chaffinch, the Sky-lark, the Starling, and the Jackdaw among Passerine birds; and the Bernacle and Brent Geese, the Mallard and other Ducks, the Snipes and the Divers among others. It will be remarked that the earliest birds to leave are those that breed in continental areas due east of the British area; the next species to go are such as have their breeding-places in a general north-easterly or north-westerly direction. It should also be stated that many species—especially among the Ducks and Waders—are still found on passage in the northern shires, long after they have finally deserted our southern coasts for the season. Thus the Scoters mostly leave Devonshire during March and April, but they are still passing the coasts of Yorkshire in May; the Jack Snipe, the Dunlin, and the Sanderling leave in March; in the northern shires they are still on passage in April and May.
With the advent of March a further exodus of our winter visitors takes place, and many of these birds continue to leave throughout this and the following month. March initiates a migration north of the Stonechat, the Hedge Accentor, the Goldcrest, the Titmice, the Pied Wagtail, and the Wren, the Goldfinch and the Brambling, the Yellow, Common, and Reed Buntings, the Carrion and Hooded Crows, the Jay, and the Short-eared Owl, the White-fronted, Bean, and Pink-footed Geese, the Teal and the Wigeon, the Tufted Duck and the Golden-eye, the Gray Plover, the Turnstone, the Dunlin, and the Purple Sandpiper. This movement is continued throughout the month and into April, in many cases gradually dying out in May. Fieldfares and Redwings migrate in large numbers during April, as also do Goldcrests, some of the Finches, Snow Buntings, Starlings, Golden Plovers, and Woodcocks; Dunlins perhaps leave most abundantly in May, as also do Turnstones, Gray Plovers, Knots, Sanderlings, and Godwits—birds that breed late in the arctic regions. The coasting migration of the Pied Wagtail, the Hen Harrier, the Merlin, the Ringed Plover, the Ruff, the Whimbrel, the Little Stint, and the Curlew Sandpiper is most apparent in April and May; the Skuas perhaps in April, with the exception of Buffon’s Skua, that is still passing the coasts of the northern shires in May and even early June.
This grand departure of birds, however, does not appeal to the ordinary observer one quarter as much as the arrival in spring of the first Swallow or Cuckoo—birds which he associates inseparably with the so-called mystery of migration. As it is always more difficult to detect a departure than note an arrival, all these other birds slip away during spring almost without being missed, and more especially so because few of them are familiar species; whilst such that are more widely known are usually still represented by sedentary individuals. We allude to such species as Wrens, Robins, Titmice, Greenfinches, Chaffinches, Hedge Sparrows, and so on. To the ordinary observer, then, spring migration apparently commences with the appearance of the first of our usual summer migrants—birds that come to our country to breed, and leave it again without fail in autumn. This northern movement is remarked, even in our northern shires, during the latter half of March. In the north of England, as it is in the south, the Chiffchaff is perhaps the most constant pioneer of the spring migrants. We have known this bird arrive in Devonshire as early as the 5th of March; in Yorkshire we have observed it a week later. These dates are somewhat exceptional, but we can pretty safely depend upon its appearance towards the end of that month. The migrations of the Wheatear are practically coincident in date. In fact this bird, we believe, has been recorded from the northern shires as early as February, but this is certainly abnormal. The migrations of both species are, however, much more marked in April. Another March migrant is the Ring-ouzel, but these are venturesome birds ahead of their companions, and the usual date of this bird’s arrival in the northern shires is April. Similarly, the Blackcap has been known to arrive in March, but its normal date is the first week or so in April. This latter month brings the migrants back in constantly increasing numbers, amongst which we may mention the Redstart, the Whinchat, the Willow Wren, the Wryneck, and the Cuckoo. Now during this month, especially during the latter half, may also be noticed in their old accustomed haunts the Whitethroat and its congener the Lesser Whitethroat, the Reed Warbler and the Sedge Warbler, the Grasshopper Warbler, the Tree Pipit, the Pied Flycatcher, the Swallow, and the two species of Martins. At the end of the month and early in May come the Garden Warbler, the Wood Wren, the Tree Pipit, the Spotted Flycatcher, the Swift, and the Nightjar. The Merlin migrates in April, as also does the Hen Harrier; towards the end of the month we have the Quail, the Stone Curlew, the Landrail, the Red-necked Phalarope, the Greenshank, and the Common Sandpiper. The passage of most of these birds continues into May, which is the usual date for the arrival of the Turtle Dove, one of the very last to reach the northern woodlands. We may remark that many of our more familiar summer migrants continue to pass the northern shires well into May—individuals bound for higher latitudes than Britain.