With nature and a camera

Chapter II. The birds and fowlers of St Kilda

Landing on Borrera

When we neared our destination the swell was breaking so badly upon the rocks that we had considerable doubts as to whether we should be able to land. A dog we had in the boat evidently thinking that he, at any rate, was equal to the task leapt overboard and tried. He easily reached the rocks, but every time he attempted to land the heavy backwash tore him away, and he would inevitably have been drowned had not one of the men seized and dragged him into the boat again.

After a great deal of manoeuvring, accompanied by much excitement on the part of the crew, a young man had a rope tied round his waist, and went forward to wait for a favourable opportunity to leap ashore. The rope is always used as a safeguard in case of accident. Two men succeeded in effecting a landing, but the place was considered so dangerous that the rest of us were taken to another part of the island, where it was hoped the swell would be less boisterous. The new place selected was probably a little more sheltered from the waves, but in spite of this it was very dangerous on account of the steep, sloping rock which was covered with the most slippery sea-weed I ever trod upon. The men we had already landed worked their way along what appeared to be untreadable ledges and round the corners of impassable crags, and flung their rope-ends to us. Whilst they held the boat from drifting away, and two of those on board prevented her from being stove in upon the rocks, Finlay McQuien tied a rope round his body and sprang ashore. My brother and I now doffed our boots and donned each a pair of coarse woollen socks, which we had bought on purpose for rockclimbing, and prepared to leap. He performed the feat first, and then had his camera and plates sent up to him by a method which he devised himself, and is, I think, worth while mentioning for the benefit of other photographers on account of its absolute simplicity and the security it affords frail and costly apparatus. The camera is tied to the middle of a long rope, one end of which is thrown to a man ashore and hauled in by him, whilst the part behind the apparatus is being paid out in such a way as to keep the whole taut, and thus prevent the camera from swinging or touching the rocks.

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Puffin noose

When it came to my turn to face the rocks the men looked afraid to take me up, and I must confess frankly that I felt afraid to go. My brother strongly advised me to stay where I was, but this was impossible. I have many times been accused of foolhardiness, but never once of cowardice; and I could not bear to think that I lacked the necessary courage, so promptly leapt ashore to prove to my own satisfaction that I didn't.

We trudged up the steep cliff, clambering from ledge to ledge and from boulder to boulder, until we came to where the turf clothes the island. Here the Puffins breed in immense numbers, and the clouds of birds that swept past us made a sound like a whirlwind whipping a great bed of dead rushes. As the Forked-Tailed Petrels also nest regularly at the same spot, we began to grope about in the burrows for their eggs. I had not investigated more than two or three holes before I felt a peculiar stinging pain, and precipitately withdrew my hand, streaming with blood. I had invaded the nest of a Tammy Norrie by mistake, and the owner being at home naturally objected, and administered with great promptitude what she no doubt regarded as a well-deserved punishment for the intrusion. I used to he a little sceptical about the stories of Puffins evicting rabbits from their burrows, but must confess that the back of my unbelief was broken that day on Borrera.

The men found several Forked-Tailed Petrels in their nesting-burrows, and when they were taken out the gentle little things squirted quantities of oil, varying in colour from amber to orange, from their beaks. It appeared to be ejected through fear, and smelt very strongly when it happened to alight on any part of one's clothing.

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Finlay McQuien catching puffins

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Finlay McQuien now began to show us an example of his skill with the fowling-rod amongst the Puffins, which need far more care and deftness to capture than the Fulmar Petrels. The rod used, however, is just the same: a light deal pole about thirteen feet in length, with a hazel twig between two and three feet in length lashed on to the end. To this is securely fastened a running noose of horse-hair and Gannet quills, so cunningly plaited together as to resemble the tapering lash of a carriage whip. The effect of the interwoven quills is that whilst preserving a sufficient amount of flexibility they so stiffen the noose as to make it stand up in the form of an almost perfect circle. The piece of hazel is slightly curved so as to slide easily along the ground, and at the same time elevate the noose sufficiently to enable the fowler to slip it over the head of a bird by a dexterous turn of the wrist. The St Kildans, one and all, seemed to exercise a kind of uncanny fascination over the Puffins, which they caught one after another with the utmost ease. The whole procedure appeared to be simplicity itself, and as I am considered a deft hand with a trout-rod I essayed the task. Creeping up cautiously on my hands and knees I slipped the rod stealthily along in front of me, but to no purpose; the birds would not tolerate my approach and flew away. I tried again and again, but the noose either waggled about until it scared the foolish-looking little creatures away, or I miscalculated my distance when endeavouring to entangle a victim. Several times an angry Tammy Norrie seized the noose in his beak and dragged at it until he so lessened the size of the circle as to make me despair of ever getting it over his head. Each failure amused the natives immensely, and they laughed heartily at my expense. However, this only increased my determination, and after a deal of perseverance I succeeded in capturing a bird, to the great delight of my spectators.

So successful are the St Kildans at this kind of sport that Angus Gillies once bagged to his own rod no less than six hundred and twenty Puffins in a single day.