The white whelk, whose numbers here are legion, are now making their appearance from their winter quarters, where, in sheltered nooks and crannies, they have successfully resisted the winter’s gales. Unlike some of their species, which subsist solely on marine plants, they are not vegetarians, but, spreading themselves over the Rock like a devastating army, they devour all animal matter they come across. Armed with a strong muscular proboscis, containing within itself the necessary boring apparatus, and which consists of a cylindrical implement, the extremity of which forms the mouth of the animal, and is surrounded by two strong muscular lips, enclosing a tongue, armed with spines, they are able, by the joint action of tongue and lips, to perforate the hardest shells. Fixing itself on the defenceless mussel, the boring operation is carried on through the furrow on the one side of the rim of the whelk, and a neat cylindrical orifice, no bigger than a pinhole, is eventually made in the mussel shell, through which the tongue is thrust and the contents gradually extracted. Two years ago the Rock was literally covered with patches of immature mussels, but is now completely denuded by these rapacious hordes. Some seasons the mussel spawn is pretty much in evidence here, but they never come to maturity; the white whelk takes care of that; but apart from that cause, it is doubtful if they could manage to subsist in such a boisterous situation. The workmen, while employed here in the building of the Lighthouse, in order to regale themselves with a fresh diet occasionally, made the experiment of transplanting mussels from the shore, but without success. The white whelk was evidently considered the chief offender, as barrels of them were collected and destroyed without any appreciable diminution of their numbers. The attempt was ultimately abandoned in disgust.