one which I picked up dead
on the shore in Cobo Bay on the 14th of November, 1875, after a very
heavy gale. In very bad weather, and after long-continued gales, this
bird seems to be occasionally driven ashore, either owing to starvation
or from getting caught in the crest of a wave when trying to hover close
over it, after the manner of a Shearwater, as this is the second I have
picked up under nearly the same circumstances, the first being in
November, 1866, when I found one not quite dead on the shore near
Dawlish, in South Devon. It must be very seldom, however, that the
Fulmar visits the Channel Islands, as neither Mr. Couch nor Mrs. Jago
had ever had one through their hands, and Mr. MacCulloch has never heard
of a Channel Island specimen occurring.

It is not included in Professor Ansted's list, and there is no specimen
in the Museum.

176. STORM PETREL. _Thalassidroma pelagica_ Linnaeus. French,
"Thalassidrome tempete."--Mr. Gallienne, in his remarks published with
Professor Ansted's list, says, "The Storm Petrel breeds in large
numbers in Burhou, a few on the other rocks near Alderney, and
occasionally on the rocks near Herm; these are the only places where
they breed, although seen and occasionally killed in all the Islands." I
can add to these places mentioned by Mr. Gallienne the little island,
frequently mentioned before, near Sark, Le Tas, where Mr. Howard
Saunders found several breeding on the 24th June, 1878. I could not
accompany him on this expedition, so he alone has the honour of adding
Le Tas to the breeding-places of the Storm Petrel in the Channel
Islands, and he very kindly gave me the two eggs which he took on that
occasion. When I visited Burhou in June, 1876, I was unsuccessful in
finding more than part of a broken egg and a wing of a dead bird. But
Colonel L'Estrange, who had been there about a fortnight before, found
two addled eggs, but saw no birds. I thought at the time that I had been
too late and the birds had departed, but this does not seem to have been
the case, as Captain Hubback wrote to me in July of this year (1878),
and said, "Do you not think that perhaps you were early on the 14th of
June? Of the six eggs I took on the 2nd of July this year, two were
quite fresh, three hard-sat, and one deserted." I have no doubt he was
right, as the wing of the dead bird I found was, no doubt, that of one
that had come to grief the year before, and the egg was one which had
been sat on an