examining an empty carrion's nest we stumbled across a lovely bed of primroses, still in full flower in mid-June, hidden in a rocky vastness.
Amongst the herring-gulls, resting on the cliff and reluctant to fly, was a brown-backed homer pigeon; how dare it linger, for I saw it in the same place an hour later, close to the eyrie of a pair of peregrines? The tiercel flew past, but did not see the pigeon. Jackdaws swarm on the rocks in some places, and with cheeky familiarity feed in the farmyards, and two pairs of choughs still manage to rear their young on the steeper cliff faces. The red-billed, red-legged birds flew over with their easy undulating flight, very tame and very noisy; their loud, clear "keeaw" easily distinguishable from the "jack" of the daws.
Linnets twittered over the gorse, lapwings called on the lower slopes and in the fields below, cormorants and shags flew by over the water; on the ledges and in crannies below the edge of the cliffs guillemots and razor-bills were crowded, and puffins were abundant on the sea. These last do not appear, at any rate now, to nest on Bardsey, but there are large colonies on islands in Cardigan Bay.
While on the cliffs, looking down on the birds drifting past us on the tide, we heard the clamour of gulls far away in the distance. The birds were floating round or hovering above some large dark object which kept appearing above the surface, some strong swimmer who dived and rose, his rounded head rolling up again and again. When the whole party came racing past, for the waters hurry everything along, we saw that the swimmer was a grey seal playing with or killing a large fish. The gulls were jealous of the prey and swooped again and again, but the angry seal snapped at them when they came too near, and once, springing high out of the water, nearly caught a bird.
