Mr. Harford, 56th Regiment, some distance from the shore, on the 30th June, 1853. Mr. Bartram's collection contains a specimen. I am not aware that this species has ever been found breeding in Bermuda. I searched in vain for nests, but shonld not be surprised to hear of them being discovered there some day or other.
Puffinus major, Wandering Shearwater.—Two recorded by Mr. Hurdis were taken alive on the 2nd June, 1851, near Hamilton. Mr. Bartram has one example in the dark plumage, which, though probably only a special state of P. major, has led to the creation of the species P. fuliginostis, or Sooty Shearwater.
Puffinus anglorum, Manx Shearwater.—A specimen in Mr. Bartram's collection, captured while sitting on its solitary egg in a rocky hole on the south shore some years ago, is, I think, clearly referable here. The egg was unfortunately broken. There is no record of the bird's breeding on any other occasion, nor of any other specimens being obtained; but it is quite possible that it, as well as Wilson's Petrel and other Procellaridæ, may formerly have frequented the islands in numbers, and that an occasional pair may revisit their old haunts. Such birds would, from their crepuscular habits, be but little noticed.
Puffinus obscurus, Dusky Shearwater.—Since Mr. Hurdis, in 1849, identified the "Cahow" or "Cowhow" of the historians of Bermuda with this interesting species, very few observations have been made on the ievt pairs still frequenting the islands. That the poor "Cahow" has almost ceased to breed there is a melancholy fact. Formerly it was plentiful, and even within the last fifteen years, Mr. Bartram informs me, there were many nests in the isolated rocks, both on the north and south shores. On the north side the bird was formerly called "Pemblyco" or "Pimlico," probably from its call-note, while on the southern shores the name "Cahow" or "Cowhow" was applied to it. I found two nests in 1874, each containing a single young bird, one of which I kept alive for about six weeks, intending to send him to the Zoological Society's Gardens in London; but before I got an opportunity of doing so the unfortunate bird died. He had become remarkably tame, following me about the house and garden, waddling along awkwardly enough on his tarsi, and uttering a musical "chirrup" the while. He used to sit under the table where I was writing, pecking away at ray boots, and apparently extremely happy. I fed him on fish, and gave him
