January-February 1903JANUARY-FEBRUARY 1903.
JANUARY-FEBRUARY 1903.
Bright, sunny weather characterised the opening day of the year, the sea assuming a suspicious placidity quite summer-like in appearance but for the keen nip in the air perceptible out of doors. This state of affairs, however, proved but ephemeral, and for the remainder of the month we have experienced most boisterous weather. Strong westerly winds occasionally attained the force of a gale, accompanied with driving seas, which roared and sang a lullaby scarcely compatible with the shore-dwellers’ sense of security, but which, strange to say, has a more somnolent effect upon us than a breathless stillness, though an occasional thumper of a sea, more forceful than its fellows, demonstrates the stability of our domicile by imparting a gentle tremor to the entire structure, awakening in the sleeper a glimmer of consciousness and a hazy impression of a traction-engine lumbering somewhere in the vicinity.
Our entrancedoorway—thirty feet from theRock—faces south-west, and is guarded by a heavy double leaved door, which opens outwards, and held open against the building by means of heavy brass thumb-snecks. An inner or vestibule door of solid brass is placed six feet furtherinwards—the walls here, by the way, being seven feet thick, tapering to one foot immediately beneath the balcony, sixty feet higher up. This door is also double-leaved, with the upper panels of heavy plate glass, frequently obscured by the strong westerly wind whipping the tops of the seas as they rise in front, and carrying them souse into the doorway. Standing here during the prevalence of a gale, the outlook is being constantly darkened by a curtain of hissing foam drawn across the doorway, as each sea breaks against the base of the tower, flinging the spray high overhead. Fifteen miles in front of us lies the Isle of May, with its castle-like lighthouse crowning its summit, while on a lower level stands a whitewashedrelic—remnant of a time, not so long ago, when the Island boasted a double light, and electricity had not as yet usurped sole sway. Emerging from the right of the May appears the bluff outline of the Bass Rock, while away in the far distance North Berwick Law cleaves the sky-line. Away to St Abb’s Head, on the left, the Haddington coast stretches hazy and indistinct, while the green, grassy slopes of Fife, with the spires of St Andrews faintly visible, fill in the right of the picture. Laying hold of the man-ropes suspended in the doorway, and turning to the right, the Forfarshire coast is seen extending from the Tay in a long unbroken line, with the snow-clad Grampians towering majestically in the background. Right in front of us are the smoking stalks of Arbroath. Two conspicuous white dots in the foreground mark the pierheads, in front of which an impatient “flaxer” cruises in glorious uncertainty of ever being permitted to fulfil her charter and deposit her Riga-run freight on the right side of the bar. This is the panorama from the viewpoint of our doorway on a clear day, but, as seen of late through sheets of flying foam, it reminds one of a cinematograph display, in which the films are far from perfect.
On the first Sunday of the year hundreds of gulls were seen resting on the surface of the sea, half a mile nor’-west from here, evidently by their movements enjoying a feast of “fry,” and in all probability proclaiming the presence of herring shoals. During the gale of 10th January over a dozen gannets were seen swooping and diving, presumably at herring. Only with difficulty could we maintain our position on the balcony, owing to the force of the wind, yet these birds circled and dived amid the turmoil of wind and water with a graceful ease and precision that seemed truly wonderful considering the force of wind they occasionally beat up against, or, as they turned broadside on, were wafted without the least exertion in the opposite direction. The first week of February saw hundreds of these birds back to their breeding haunts on the Bass Rock. From the deck of the “Relief” steamer lying within a few hundred yards their movements are clearly seen. Each projecting ledge of the precipitous cliffs is tenanted by some members of the cackling crowd, their heads see-sawing from side to side. The birds are evidently engaged in brisk conversation, a monopoly of which is certainly not tolerated amongst them, judging by the vigorous efforts of each to be heard above his neighbour. Probably the new lighthouse is being discussed in the light of an innovation on their ancestral rights of possession, and later, as its beams fall athwart their nursery, tradition may recall man’s former intrusion on their solitary keep many hundred years ago. No doubt their ups and downs since last meeting onterra firmaare fully discussed, for it is a curious fact that these birds are rarely, if ever, known to rest on shore except when engaged in domestic duties. Occasionally a depraved specimen may be seen floating helplessly on the water, a victim of his own gluttony, having dined not wisely but too well.
February has been a repetition of its predecessor, cold and blowy, with excessive rainfalls. In a shallow depression on the higher rock surface our attention has been attracted to a solitary plant, a specimen, I understand, of “Himanthalia lorea.” A cylindrical stem (an inch in length) supports a thick, fleshy disc, about an inch in diameter. From the centre of this disc three separate branches rise with their terminals, blunted at first, but which were gradually seen to bifurcate. This isour“flower in the crannied wall,” and is in its own way equally as suggestive.
The eiders are occasionally seen varying their diet with a vegetable course. Seizing the tip of a tangle blade two or three inches from the surface, they spin round it like a top, till the portion held in their bill is twisted off and greedily swallowed. No need for them to evade the gulls while engaged in this repast. It is most amusing to witness the discomfiture of the gulls as they hurry from a distance expecting to share in something edible, only to find the duck negotiating six inches of seaweed. That the white whelk itself is not immune from enemies was recently brought before our notice, one being picked up with a long black worm dangling from its mouth. On withdrawing theworm—somewhat resembling a bootlace—portions of the deceased tenant followed. Doubtless every organism has its own particular parasite.
“Big fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ’em,And these again have lesser fleas and soad infinitum.”
“Big fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ’em,And these again have lesser fleas and soad infinitum.”
“Big fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ’em,
And these again have lesser fleas and soad infinitum.”