The Audubon Reader (56 page)

This afternoon, being informed that across the bay where we are anchored we might, perhaps, purchase some black fox skins, we went there, and found
Messieurs Muncey keen fellows; they asked $5 for black fox and $1.50 for red. No purchase on our part.

Being told that
Geese,
Brents,
Mergansers, etc., breed eighteen miles from here, at the eastern extremity of these islands, we go off there tomorrow in boats. Saw
Bank Swallows and House Swallows. The woods altogether small evergreens, extremely scrubby, almost impenetrable, and swampy beneath. At seven this evening the thermometer is at 52°. This morning it was 44°.

After our return to the
Ripley
, our captain, John, Tom Lincoln and Coolidge went off to the cliffs opposite our anchorage in search of Black Guillemots’
eggs. This was found to be quite an undertaking; these birds, instead of having to
jump
or
hop
from
one place to another on the rocks, to find a spot suitable to deposit their spotted egg, as has been stated, are on the contrary excellent walkers, at least upon the rocks, and they can fly from the water to the very entrance of the holes in the fissures where the egg is laid. Sometimes this egg is deposited not more than eight or ten feet above high-water mark, at other times the fissure in the rock which has been chosen stands at an elevation of a hundred feet or more. The egg is laid on the bare rock without any preparation, but when the formation is sandy, a certain scoop is indicated on the surface. In one instance, I found two feathers with the egg; this egg is about the size of a hen’s, and looks extravagantly large, splashed with black or deep umber, apparently at random, the markings larger and more frequent towards the great end. At the barking of a dog from any place where these birds breed, they immediately fly towards the animal, and will pass within a few feet of the observer, as if in defiance. At other times they leave the nest and fall in the water, diving to an extraordinary distance before they rise again. John shot a
Gannet on the wing; the flesh was black and unpleasant. The
Piping Plover, when missed by the shot, rises almost perpendicularly, and passes sometimes out of sight; this is, I am convinced by the many opportunities I have had to witness the occurrence, a habit of the species.

These islands are well watered by large springs, and rivulets intersect the country in many directions. We saw large flocks of Velvet
Ducks feeding close to the shores; these did not appear to be in pairs. The Gannet dives quite under the water after its prey, and when empty of food rises easily off the water.

June 14, off the
Gannett Rocks
. We rose at two o’clock with a view to proceed to the eastern extremity of these islands in search of certain ponds wherein, so we were told,
Wild Geese and Ducks of different kinds are in the habit of resorting annually to breed. Our informer added that formerly
Brents bred there in abundance, but that since the erection of several buildings owned by Nova Scotians, and in the immediate vicinity of these ponds or lakes, the birds have become gradually very shy, and most of them now proceed farther north. Some of these lakes are several miles in circumference, with shallow, sandy bottoms; most of them are fresh water, the shores thickly overgrown with rank sedges and grasses, and on
the surface are many water lilies. It is among these that the wild fowl, when hid from the sight of man, deposit their eggs. Our way to these ponds would have been through a long and narrow bay, formed by what seamen call
seawalls. In this place these walls are entirely of light-colored sand, and form connecting points from one island to another, thus uniting nearly the whole archipelago. Our journey was abandoned just as we were about to start, in consequence of the wind changing and being fair for our passage to Labrador, the ultimatum of our desires. Our anchor was raised, and we bid adieu to the Magdalenes. Our pilot, a Mr. Godwin from Nova Scotia, put the vessel towards what he called the “Bird Rocks,” where he told us that
Gannets bred in great numbers. For several days past we have met with an increased number of Gannets, and as we sailed this morning we observed long and numerous files, all flying in the direction of the rocks. Their
flight now was low above the water, forming easy undulations, flapping thirty or forty times and sailing about the same distance; these were all returning from fishing, and were gorged with food for their mates or young. About ten a speck rose on the horizon, which I was told was the Rock; we sailed well, the breeze increased fast, and we neared this object apace. At eleven I could distinguish its top plainly from the deck, and thought it covered with snow to the depth of several feet; this appearance existed on every portion of the flat, projecting shelves. Godwin said, with the coolness of a man who had visited this Rock for ten successive seasons, that what we saw was not snow—but Gannets! I rubbed my eyes, took my spyglass, and in an instant the strangest picture stood before me. They were birds we saw, a mass of birds of such a size as I never before cast my eyes on. The whole of my party stood astounded and amazed, and all came to the conclusion that such a sight was of itself sufficient to invite anyone to come across the Gulf to view it at this season. The nearer we approached, the greater our surprise at the enormous number of these birds, all calmly seated on their eggs or newly hatched brood, their heads all turned to windward and towards us. The air above for a hundred yards, and for some distance around the whole rock, was filled with Gannets on the wing, which from our position made it appear as if a heavy fall of snow was directly above us. Our pilot told us the wind was too
high to permit us to land, and I felt sadly grieved at this unwelcome news. Anxious as we all were, we decided to make the attempt; our whale-boat was overboard, the pilot, two sailors, Tom Lincoln and John pushed off with guns and clubs. Our vessel was brought to, but at that instant the wind increased, and heavy rain began to fall. Our boat neared the rock and went to the lee of it and was absent nearly an hour but could not land. The air was filled with Gannets, but no difference could we perceive on the surface of the rock. The birds, which we now could distinctly see, sat almost touching each other and in regular lines, seated on their nests quite unconcerned. The discharge of the guns had no effect on those that were not touched by the shot, for the noise of the
Gulls,
Guillemots, etc., deadened the sound of the gun; but where the shot took effect, the birds scrambled and flew off in such multitudes, and in such confusion, that whilst some eight or ten were falling into the water either dead or wounded, others pushed off their eggs, and these fell into the sea by hundreds in all directions.

The sea now becoming very rough, the boat was obliged to return, with some birds and some eggs; but the crew had not climbed the rock, a great disappointment to me. Godwin tells me the top of the rock is about a quarter of a mile wide, north and south, and a little narrower east and west; its elevation above the sea between three and four hundred feet. The sea beats round it with great violence except after long calms, and it is extremely difficult to land upon it and much more so to climb to the top of it, which is a platform; it is only on the southeast shore that a landing can be made, and the moment a boat touches, it must be hauled up on the rocks. The whole surface is perfectly covered with nests, placed about two feet apart, in such regular order that you may look through the lines as you would look through those of a planted patch of sweet potatoes or cabbages. The fishermen who kill these birds to get their flesh for codfish bait ascend in parties of six or eight, armed with clubs; sometimes, indeed, the party comprises the crews of several vessels. As they reach the top, the birds, alarmed, rise with a noise like thunder and fly off in such hurried, fearful confusion as to throw each other down, often falling on each other till there is a bank of them many feet high. The men strike them down and kill them until fatigued or satisfied. Five
hundred and forty have been thus murdered in one hour by six men. The birds are skinned with little care and the flesh cut off in chunks; it will keep fresh about a fortnight.

The
nests are made by scratching down a few inches and the edges surrounded with seaweeds. The eggs are pure white and as large as those of a Goose. By the 20th of May the rock is already covered with birds and eggs; about the 20th of June they begin to hatch. So great is the destruction of these birds annually that their flesh supplies the bait for upwards of forty fishing-boats which lie close to the Byron Island each season. When the
young are hatched they are black, and for a fortnight or more the skin looks like that of the dogfish. They become gradually downy and white, and when two months old look much like young lambs. Even while shooting at these birds, hundreds passed us carrying great masses of weeds to their nests. The birds were thick above our heads and I shot at one to judge of the effect of the report of the gun; it had none. A great number of
Kittiwake Gulls breed on this rock, with thousands of
Foolish Guillemots. The Kittiwake makes its nest of eel weeds, several inches in thickness, and in places too small for a Gannet or a Guillemot to place itself; in some instances these nests projected some inches over the edge of the rock. We could not see any of their eggs.

The breeze was now so stiff that the waves ran high; so much so that the boat was perched on the comb of the wave one minute, the next in the trough. John steered, and he told me afterward he was nearly exhausted. The boat was very cleverly hauled on deck by a single effort. The stench from the rock is insufferable, as it is covered with the remains of putrid fish, rotten eggs and dead birds, old and young. No man who has not seen what we have this day can form the least idea of the impression the sight made on our minds. By dark it blew a gale and we are now most of us rather shaky; rain is falling in torrents, and the sailors are reefing. I forgot to say that when a man walks towards the Gannets, they will now and then stand still, merely opening and shutting their bills; the Gulls remained on their nests with more confidence than the Guillemots, all of which flew as we approached. The
feathering of the Gannet is curious, differing from that of most other birds, inasmuch as each feather is concave and divided in its contour
from the next. Under the roof of the mouth and attached to the upper mandible are two fleshy appendages like two small wattles.

June 15
. All our party except Coolidge were deadly sick. The thermometer was down to 43° and every sailor complained of the cold. It has rained almost all day. I felt so very sick this morning that I removed from my berth to a hammock, where I soon felt rather more easy. We lay to all this time, and at daylight were in sight of the Island of Anticosti, distant about twenty miles; but the fog soon after became so thick that nothing could be observed. At about two we saw the sun, the wind hauled dead ahead, and we ran under one sail only.

June 16, Sunday
. The weather clear, beautiful, and much warmer; but it was calm, so we fished for
cod, of which we caught a good many; most of them contained crabs of a curious sort, and some were filled with shrimps. One cod measured three feet six and a half inches and weighed twenty-one pounds. Found two curious insects fastened to the skin of a cod, which we saved. At about six o’clock the wind sprang up fair and we made all sail for Labrador.

June 17
. I was on deck at three this morning; the sun, although not above the horizon, indicated to the mariner at the helm one of those doubtful days the result of which seldom can be truly ascertained until sunset. The sea was literally covered with
Foolish Guillemots, playing in the very spray of the bow of our vessel, plunging under it as if in fun, and rising like spirits close under our rudder. The breeze was favorable, although we were hauled to the wind within a point or so. The helmsman said he saw land from aloft, but the captain pronounced his assertion must be a mistake, by true calculation. We breakfasted on the best of fresh codfish, and I never relished a breakfast more. I looked on our landing on the coast of Labrador as a matter of great importance. My thoughts were filled not with airy castles but with expectations of the new knowledge of birds and quadrupeds which I hoped to acquire. The
Ripley
ploughed the deep and proceeded swiftly on her way; she always sails well, but I thought that now as the land was expected to appear every moment she fairly skipped over the waters. At five o’clock the cry of land rang in our ears, and my heart bounded with joy; so much for anticipation. We sailed on, and in less than an hour the land was in full sight from the deck.
We approached and saw, as we supposed, many sails, and felt delighted at having hit the point in view so very closely; but, after all, the sails proved to be large snow-banks. We proceeded, however, the wind being so very favorable that we could either luff or bear away. The air was now filled with Velvet Ducks;
millions
of these birds were flying from the northwest towards the southeast. The
Foolish Guillemots and the
Razor-billed Auk were in immense numbers, flying in long files a few yards above the water with rather undulating motions and passing within good gunshot of the vessel, and now and then rounding to us as if about to alight on the very deck. We now saw a schooner at anchor, and the country looked well at this distance, and as we neared the shore the thermometer, which had been standing at 44°, now rose up to nearly 60°; yet the appearance of the great snowdrifts was forbidding. The shores appeared to be margined with a broad and handsome sand beach; our imaginations now saw bears, wolves, and devils of all sorts scampering away on the rugged shore. When we reached the schooner we saw beyond some thirty fishing-boats fishing for cod, and to our great pleasure found
Captain Billings of Eastport standing in the bow of his vessel; he bid us welcome and we saw the codfish thrown on his deck by thousands. We were now opposite to the mouth of the
Natasquan River, where the
Hudson’s Bay Company have a fishing establishment but where no American vessels are allowed to come in. The shore was lined with bark-covered huts and some vessels were within the bight, or long point of land which pushes out from the extreme eastern side of the entrance of the river.