With nature and a camera

Chapter III. The birds and fowlers of St Kilda (continued)

The effect of a shot

Creeping cautiously to the opposite end of the cleit I saw through a hole, which commanded a good view of the village, a Great Black-backed Gull standing sedately on a house-top, whilst a number of Herring-Gulls were searching the refuse heap in front of it for some garbage upon which they might make a breakfast.

Presently I saw a pair of Ravens come round the breast of steep Mullach Oshival. They were flying at a very leisurely pace, and appeared to be coming straight towards me. I waited with bated breath, thinking they would discover the feast I had provided for them; but alas! they only croaked solemnly to each other, and passed on to the other end of the village.

Half an hour later I heard a Grey Crow speak out close at hand. A fleeting shadow passed the chinks in the wall, and he plumped down with considerable clatter on the roof of the cleit immediately over my head. I kept perfectly still, and in a few seconds he made out the position of the carrion and winged his way straight to it. Just as he alighted my eye ran along the gun-barrel, there was a reverberating bang, and one Hooded-Crow less to trouble the natives of Hirta by stealing the eggs and young of their precious birds.

The report of my fowling-piece set every dog in the village barking madly, and sent a crowd of Lesser Black-hacks and Herring-Gulls away from their morning meal at the midden heaps to protest loudly against me for the fright I had given them, as they circled higher and higher in the air over my head.

After I had picked up my trophy and prepared him for the skinning-knife, I re-entered my place of hiding; but to small purpose, as the old maid's cats living next door to us scented my offal, and by their assiduous attentions made it impossible for me to get another shot.

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The greatest sight of all, from an ornithological point of view, at St Kilda is the prodigious flock of Puffins on Soa. We determined to go thither the first time a favourable spell of weather gave us an opportunity. The morning of June 22nd was deemed suitable by all the weather-wise old men; and after a wearisomely protracted debate upon various matters affecting the Commonwealth, we started.

When we reached that part of the coast lying behind the village, we saw a lot of Shags and other birds upon a promontory of rock that looked approachable with the boat. It was decided to land, and after a deal of manoeuvring bows on as usual, we succeeded in getting ashore by the aid of ropes. Once or twice, as I sat in the vessel's prow with a leg dangling over each side ready to leap ashore, I missed my chance, and her keel came bump, bump down the steep rock as she was sucked back upon the receding waters of a wave.

We clambered about amongst a number of huge detached boulders in search of something to photograph, but found nothing of any value until my brother, who had ascended by a tortuous climb from ledge to ledge away to the left of us, discovered a Shag's nest, containing three down-clad young ones, in an open nook some thirty or forty feet immediately above us. In order to examine the birds and assist in the taking of their portraits I began to climb straight up amongst the great loose crags which at one place almost defied my best efforts on account of their wall-like steepness. However, I selected a fairly wide crevice, formed by two immense rocks having fallen into somewhat similar positions, and placing a hand and foot on either side, literally worked my way upwards until I came to a large stone which appeared to be firmly wedged in between the two forming the crevice.

[page 103]

Young shags

[page 104]

I managed to negotiate it successfully, and presently joined my brother and the young Shags, which were trembling and shaking in a most distressing state of fear. After a great deal of trouble, and the enduring of a vastly unpleasant smell arising from the filthy condition of the nest and rocks round about, which were plastered with excreta, we succeeded in making what we hoped would turn out to be a fairly decent picture. I do not know whether it has ever been noticed or recorded before, but according to my experience the nests of Shags are far less frequently surrounded by fish in all stages of decay than are those of Cormorants.

As soon as we had done with the long-necked, shivering creatures, each of us prepared to descend by his own chosen path. My brother got down first, and just as he was travelling along a ledge directly beneath the lump of rock I have just mentioned as being jammed betwixt the two upright crags, we had the narrowest escape from a terrible accident I have ever witnessed. No sooner had I placed my right foot on the stone, which I had every reason to believe was as firmly locked in its position as the keystone of an arch, than it twirled over and slipped out, and I suffered the extreme horror of seeing it descend straight upon my brother. By a stroke of wonderful good luck he saw it start, and making a dexterous bound just managed to clear its path by a hairsbreadth. It struck the ledge of rock with a dull crash, pulverised a portion of itself into a sulphurous smelling little cloud of powder, and thundering onwards down the steep slope of the cliff, finally bounded into the sea with a churning splash. I should undoubtedly have followed it had I not had my hands hard pressed against the boulder on either side. The danger I had unconsciously undergone in ascending the crevice was not pleasant to reflect upon, and the incident made me feel distinctly uncomfortable for a while.