The heavy easterly surf has deprived us for the present of our fishing, forcing the fish off the rock to deeper water. There are evidently plenty about, as the gannets are to be seen busy diving in the vicinity. It is extremely interesting to watch these birds pursuing their prey. Flitting near the surface, they enter the water at an angle of about twenty degrees; again, at a higher altitude, they drop like a plummet, describing an arc of bubbling foam from their entrance to where they emerge with a bounce a few feet further ahead, beating the water with their wings for several yards before being again fairly on the wing. The air cells pervading various parts of the body of a bird, and which contribute to its buoyancy, are probably vested in a greater degree in the gannet, an extremely large one being situated in front of the forked bone, or clavicles. Several instances are recorded where a bird which had its windpipe temporarily obstructed was able, by means of these cells, to carry on the function of respiration through the wing bone, the broken end of which protruded through the skin. The voluntary compression of these cells, by expelling the air, destroys the buoyancy of the bird, and explains the amazing rapidity of its descent. An objectionable method is practised in some places for the capture of these birds. A submerged piece of planking with a herring fixed to its upper surface is set adrift, or towed from a boat, in the vicinity of their fishing grounds. Swooping from an altitude, say, of a hundred feet, they apparently see but the herring alone, with the result that their necks are dislocated by impact with the plank, the impetus of their descent being sometimes so great as to bury their bills to the base in the wood. It is a common sight here, during the breeding season, to see these birds trooping past in Indian file to their home on the Bass Rock, in batches of a dozen or so, each preserving a regular distance from his neighbour. Though I have frequently watched them pursuing their vocation, I have never seen them bring their prey to the surface, nor could I say whether their dive was successful or not; but occasionally they emerge from their dive with a satisfied “honk,” which may be translated “got ’im.” Gifted with an insatiable appetite, they sometimes gorge themselves to such an extent as to be incapable of rising from the water, when they may be easily captured, as they make no attempt to dive. An instance of this was witnessed by a large crowd one Sunday, a few summers ago, in Arbroath Harbour. Some conception of the carrying capacity of these birds may be had when it is known that a sitting mother bird has been seen to insert her bill into the inviting mouth of her returned partner and deftly extract, one by one, as many as six full-grown herring.