The common cormorant with his long bill, bent at the point, and furnished with a nail, his black livery, and yellowish chin-pouch, is a most disagreeable comrade. His smell, when alive, is more rank and offensive than that of any other bird, and his flesh is so disgusting, that it turns the stomach even of an Esquimaux. In spite of his voracity, he always remains thin and meagre, the picture of a hungry parasite. But fishing he understands remarkably well, and formerly used to be trained for this purpose in England, in the same manner as a nearly related species is to the present day employed in China. Mr. Fortune thus describes this original chase, which he witnessed on the Yellow River:—"There were two boats, each containing one man, and about ten or twelve birds. The latter stood perched on the sides of the boats, and seemed to have just arrived upon the scene of action. Their masters now commanded them to leave the boats; and so excellent was their training, that they instantly obeyed, scattered themselves over the canal, and began to look for prey. They have a splendid sea-green eye, and quick as lightning they see and dive upon the finny tribe, which, once caught in the sharp notched bill, finds escape impossible. As soon as a cormorant rises to the surface with his prey in his bill, his master calls him, when, docile as a dog, he swims to the boat and surrenders the fish, after which he again resumes his labours. And what is more wonderful still, when one of them has got hold of a fish so large as to be with difficulty dragged to the boat, the others come to his assistance, and by their united strength overpower the sprawling giant. Sometimes when a cormorant is lazy or playful, and seems to forget his business, the Chinaman strikes the water with a long bamboo near to the dreamer, and calls out to him in an angry tone. Immediately the bird, like a schoolboy caught nodding over his lesson, gives up his play, and returns to his duty. A small string is tied round the neck of the birds, for fear they might be tempted to swallow the fish themselves."
Frigate-Bird.
The frigate-bird hovers over the tropical waters. Its singularly easy and graceful flight affords all the charm of variety. Sometimes it is seen balanced in mid air, its wings spread, but apparently motionless, its long forked tail expanding and closing with a quick alternate motion, and its head turned inquisitively downwards; sometimes it wheels rapidly, and darts to the surface of the water in pursuit of prey; and then again it soars so as to be lost to vision, its elevation alone being sufficient to distinguish it from all other sea birds. Sometimes it is seen 400 leagues from land; and yet it is said to return every night to its solitary roost. Its expanded pinions measure from end to end fourteen feet, a prodigious extent of wings, equalling or even surpassing that of the condor, the lordly bird of the loftiest Andes. Being unable to swim or dive, it seizes the flying-fish, that, springing out of the water to avoid the jaws of the bonito, often falls a prey to the frigate-bird, or else it compels boobies or tropic birds to disgorge. On volcanic coasts it builds its nest in the crevices of the high cliffs, and on the low coral islands in the loftiest trees. In the Paumotu Group, Captain Wilkes saw whole groves covered with the nests of the frigate-bird. When the old birds flew away, they puffed up their red pouches to the size of a child's head, so that it looked as if a large bladder full of blood was attached to their neck.
Flying Fish.
Common Gannet.
The Gannet or Soland-goose (Sula Bassana) haunts the Bass Island, a high steep rock in the Frith of Forth, whose black precipices are painted with dazzling stripes of white guano, the product of the inconceivable number of birds which settle upon the weather-beaten ledges. The gannets incubate in the turf of the slopes above, and you may sit down by them and their great downy young while their mates hover over you with discordant screams and almost touch you with their outspread pinions. There is but one landing-place, and this sole entrance to the natural fastness is closed by a barred gate, proclaiming that man has taken possession of the rock. Some years ago it was let at an annual rent of thirty-five pounds. The eggs are not collected, and no old bird is allowed to be shot, under a penalty of five pounds; only the young birds are persecuted. The chase begins on the 1st of August. They are taken with the hand or knocked on the head with sticks, and sent to the Edinburgh market, where they fetch about half a crown a piece. The gannet breeds also on Lundy Island, in the Severn, on Ailsa, on the coast of Ayrshire, on the island of St. Kilda, and hardly anywhere else in Europe. As it must let itself fall before taking wing, it requires a steep and precipitous breeding-station. Its mode of fishing is particularly graceful. Rapidly skimming the surface of the sea, as soon as it spies a fish swimming below, it rises perpendicularly over the spot, and then, suddenly folding its wings, drops head-foremost on its prey swifter than an arrow, and with almost unerring aim. The prevalent colour of the full-plumaged bird is white, the tips of its wings only being black, and some black lines about the face, resembling eyebrows or spectacles. The pale yellow eyes are encircled with a naked skin of fine blue, the head and neck are buff colour, the legs black, and greenish on the fore part. The plumage of the young bird is very different, being blackish, dotted irregularly with small white specks.
The family of the Laridæ, which comprises the gulls, the sea-swallows, the petrels, and the albatrosses, is widely spread over the whole surface of the ocean. All the birds of this tribe have a powerful flight, and are distinguished by the easy grace of their motions, striking the air at long intervals with their wings, and generally gliding or soaring with outstretched pinions. Their form is handsome and well-proportioned, some of them resembling the swallow, others the dove; but their mode of life does not correspond with their beauty, as they are all ill-famed for their predatory habits and insatiable voracity. The cry of the sea-mew is peculiar, being a mixture of screaming and laughing. When in the solitude of a wild rocky coast it is heard mingling with the hoarse rolling of the surge and the moaning wind, it harmonises well with the character of the dreary scene, and produces a not unpleasing effect. It is amusing to witness the movements of the sea-mews at the mouths of the larger rivers, where they are seen in numbers, picking up the animal substances which are cast on shore, or come floating down with the ebbing tide. Such as are near the breakers will mount up the surface of the water, and run splashing towards the crest of the wave, to get hold of the object of their pursuit, while others are seen every now and then diving, and reappearing with a fish in their bill. Sometimes the more powerful sea-hawk interrupts their pleasure, pounces upon the robbers, and scatters the screaming band.