THE SEA-FOWL NURSERIES.
“Sailing in a little bark, with a gentle breeze blowing, I had ample opportunities of viewing the various birds as they approached, and as they flew past. Passing in front of the several sea-fowl nurseries of Troup, I beheld scenes truly magnificent—scenes which could not have failed to create feelings of the deepest interest in a mind capable of appreciating the sublime and beautiful workings of Nature. Having landed at the most famed of these nurseries, in order to view the scene with advantage—here, I thought, as I gazed at the white towering cliffs which had laughed to scorn the angriest scowl of the most mighty wave that ever spent its fury at their base, and defied the stormiest blast from the icy North; where the largest gull in its midway flight appears no larger than the smallest of its kind; where the falcon breeds beside and in perfect harmony with the other inhabitants of the rocky cliffs; where multitudes of birds, of various forms and hues, from the snowy whiteness of the Kittiwake to the sable dye of the croaking raven, have found a resting-place whereon to build their nests and deposit their young;—here, I thought, as I was about to leave the busy throng—even here, man, the noblest creature, though too often degrading himself beneath the lowest of animals, might learn lessons of industry and affection from these humble monitors of Nature.”
NEIGHBOURHOOD OF PENNAN.
During breeding-time the clamour of the sea-birds is tumultuous, though the lashing of the sea at the foot of the cliffs tends to a great extent to lull their noise. But towards evening all becomes still again. Edward frequently ascertained this by personal experience. Being in the neighbourhood of Pennan one day, he went along the Head, in order, if possible, to get a sight of the far-famed eagles of the promontory. He was unsuccessful on the occasion. He had loitered by the way, and the declining day at length warned him to leave the place without seeing the coveted sight. His road westward lay along the coast. With disappointed hopes he trudged along, scarcely thinking how the hours were flying. At length it became dark as he approached the broom braes of Troup. He found himself fairly benighted. At the same time he was tired and weary. He had endured many outs and ins, ups and downs, that day. His intention was to have gone to the house of his old shopmate at Gardenstown, and spend the night. But now he felt, from his worn-out condition, that it would have taken him nearly two hours’ walking to reach the place. He therefore determined to stay where he was, or rather, to go down to a sleeping-place near Troup Head, to ascertain how his feathered friends conducted themselves during the night time.
SLEEPS IN HELL’S LUM.
SEA-BIRDS AT NIGHT.
His sleeping place was a very wild one. It was no other than Hell’s Lum. He knew the place well. He had entered it both from the sea-side and from the land-side. He had been in it in storm and calm, in clouds and sunshine. And now he was about to spend the night in it. The weather was, however, calm; the sea was like a sheet of glass; so that he had little fear of getting a wetting during his few hours’ stay. While in the “Lum,” he was at the back of the cliffs, and in close proximity with the breeding places of the myriads of sea-fowl. It was now the busiest part of the season. The birds had been very clamorous during the day, but as night came on, their clamour ceased. With the exception of a few screams,—while, perhaps, the birds were being displaced in their nests,—the night was silent, though Edward kept awake and listened for nearly the whole time.
But with the first glimmerings of daylight, and just as he was beginning to move and to creep out of the pit, Edward thought that he heard some of the birds beginning to whimper and yawn, as if ready for another day’s work; and by the time he had rounded Crovie Head, he beheld the cliffs alive, and the multitude of sea-birds again in full operation.
THE RED HEAD OF PENNAN.