A few days after, I again went between three and four o’clock, but even then the Frigates were reposing in great numbers, but few Boobies, and no Pelicans. I shot a Frigate, which of course aroused the whole flock: and I then had an opportunity of ascertaining their numbers. As they sailed gracefully round, I counted them twice, and both times made them about fifty, but of course I could not be quite exact: from other observations, I should estimate the number of those which habitually repose there to be about sixty, more or less. During an hour and a half that I remained, they did not again alight, and when the sun was close to the horizon they were still soaring in their sublime evolutions. About one sixth of the number were white-headed, their snowy heads and breasts gleaming now and then, as the slanting rays were reflected from them to the observer; and several displayed the inflated scarlet pouch, a little constricted in the middle. As the Frigate flies, the form of its wings reminds one of enormous bats, but for the lengthened tail. When about to alight, they sometimes cackle a little, but are generally silent. As they sit on the branches they are incessantly employed in picking the vermin from their bodies, with which they are much infested. This is done partly with the beak, but partly with the foot; and I have seen them, after scratching themselves, put up the foot to the beak, apparently delivering something into the mouth. Occasionally they throw the head back, and make a loud clattering with the beak. Passing along the road one forenoon in May, a large number were wheeling round the roosting place, some alighting, and others rising. Those which were on the wing uttered, particularly as they swooped near the tree, on which they made as if they would alight, a repeated _chuck_, not loud, with a rather rapid iteration. It would appear that this place has been frequented by the Frigates, for at least a hundred years. Robinson has this note: “On a large cotton-tree, between Mr. Wallo’s and the Cave, by the sea-side, come to roost many Man-of-war birds, about four o’clock in the evenings, which tree may be easily approached by a canoe, whence the Men-of-war and other sea-fowl may be shot, either in the evening, or before sunrise; for the Man-of-war birds will not leave their roosting-places before sunrise, in this resembling the Noddy. Dr. Gorse of Savanna le Mar, from whom I had this account, observed that the cotton-tree was blanched or whitened by their dung.” (MSS. ii. 83.)