but in the plate that ought to show this he apparently closed his eye just as I exposed. After dozing, he partly preened himself while brooding the young. He sneezed four or five times and also yawned. Shortly after 8 a.m, he yelped and looked up as if watching the Falcon overhead, then.stepped off the young and, jumping on to C, flew off. There then followed a good deal of yelping out of sight, and the young began to stir and whimper, the nearest female gaping; I saw the claws for the last time; this time inside her mouth.
At 8.8 a.m, the Tiercel brought a small bird, unidentified, and fed them. The young female with the claws stood in the back row most of the time and did not seem hungry. I saw her get a lump once, but could not be sure of more. If any little bits dropped during a meal, the Tiercel carefully picked them up and presented them again. The males generally got the smallest bits, and one of them was nearly always in front of the others. I saw one young male this time get four helpings in succession. One of the young females got a leg given to her and the Tiercel swallowed the other. This meal lasted from 8.8 to 8.20 a.m., after which he brooded them and it began to drizzle. At 8.40 a.m. I heard the Tiercel yapping, and, looking out, found him engaged in feeding. As what he was using looked like scraps, and I had not heard him or the Falcon give the food cry, I concluded it was the remainder of the 8.8 a.m, meal. He swallowed the last pieces himself, including a leg. As this would make the quarry three-legged, I expect the young female must have disgorged hers while she was being brooded. This feed only lasted two or three minutes. I had a bad bout of coughing just about this time owing to some tobacco smoke going the wrong way; but although he evidently heard me, cocking his head on one side and looking puzzled, he was not in any way upset, for which I was sincerely grateful. At 9 a.m, it stopped raining, but there was no sun. At 9.46 he got off the young, jumped on to C and flew off. I heard him wailing in the distance; it sounds exactly like the hungry whimper of the full-fledged young—a long-drawn "way-ee," and is the food cry. Three minutes later I heard his wings close as he dropped into the eyrie with a plucked and partly-skinned puffin. I identified it by
