Among all the gloomy tale which naturalists tell of decreasing wildlife everywhere, one happy exception has been the story of the Fulmar. Today, anyone standing beneath the cliff at Kiel Point in spring or summer may see these gull-like birds, with white breasts and expressionless black-ringed eyes, gliding and banking on straight grey wings, about the cliff face, or sitting singly or in chuckling pairs and parties on it's ledges. Such colonies may nowadays be seen in suitable localities all round the coasts of Great Britain and Ireland, but a hundred years ago the fulmar's only known breeding place in the British Isles was on the cliffs of St. Kilda. Here it had nested at least since 1697, when it's presence was first mentioned by a steward of the MacLeods of Skye, the owners of St. Kilda. By last century the fulmar colony ther was so populous that young birds, taken on the nesting ledges still unable to fly, were salted or smoked by the islanders for use as winter food. In spite of their overcrowding numbers, however, the St. Kildan fulmars contented themselves for 200 years - at least - with their accustomed cliffs and made no effort to find other suitable nesting sites.
Then suddenly, in 1878, fulmars appeared on the cliffs at Foula in the Shetlands and a population explosion, emanating at this stage, not from St. Kilda, but from Iceland, reached the British Isles by way of the Faroes. In 1897 the birds arrived on the mainland near Cape Wrath and, since that date, they have pushed their way steadily southwards - at first down the east coast for a certain distance and then down the west, until now there is scarcely a stretch of coastline in these islands where they may not be seen. They reached Rathlin in 1921 and the Mull of Oa, in Islay, in 1926. In 1937 the first fulmars were seen in Kintyre at Southend - on the cliffs of Brunerican, Keil and Sanda - and at the Galdrings, and in the early 1950's a further colony was established on the west shore, two miles south of Bellochantuy in the gorge of the Allt-nan-Creamh and on the old cliffs of the raised beach at Port Crom.
This colony I have been able to watch for the past fifteen years. It consists of about 18 breeding pairs and a varying population of non-breeding adults. The birds begin to return from their autumn wanderings around the northern oceans about the beginning of November - at first in twos and threes and only at intervals when the weather is calm; but, later, in ever-increasing numbers and for longer periods until, in May, the whole colony is back at the cliffs in strength. The mated pairs soon find themselves suitable nesting sites in rock crevices - and they compete, not very successfully, with the jackdaws - and on grassy ledges, while those birds that are not yet ready to breed sit about the bluffs in small cackling parties, or glide effortlessly around the cliffs prospecting for sites which might be suitable for nesting in future years. A few of such unattached birds, probably from this colony, have wandered as far afield as Muasdale - to roadside cliffs by the sea just south of the village and to a couple of grass covered stack rocks just to the north of it - and, after examining these sites for several years, have now settled very small breeding colonies on them. A fulmar's life span is thought to be about 50 years and it does not mate, it seems, until it is 4 or 5 years old. So, there is plenty of time for prospecting.
Meanwhile, the mated birds are busy courting - sitting close together and nodding and bowing to each other with a great deal of clucking, cackling and chuckling. It is now that in the daylight hours the colony is at its noisiest and most populous but, as evening falls, the birds desert the cliffs and settle to roost on the sea some 300 yards offshore. About the end of May the female lays her single egg and, thereafter, the male and female share in incubation until, after about seven weeks, at the end of June or beginning of July, the grey, fluffy chick is hatched. The parents take it in turn to feed the young bird with regurgitated food which they have collected and brought in from the sea and, one day in early august, I was lucky enough to observe the feeding process at close range. As I was walking along the foot of the cliff, a quacking sound exactly like that of a small farmyard duckling attracted my attention to an ivy-covered hole just above my head and there, too intent to notice me, was a fulmar in the act of feeding it's three-quarter grown young one. The hungry and impatient chick was stretching upwards to peck at it's parent's beak, quacking frantically as it pecked, while the adult fulmar stood motionless summoning up a mouthful of regurgitated food. When it was ready, the two birds opened their beaks wide and the food passed from one to the other. The process was repeated three or four times before the older bird flew away for a fresh supply.
Apart from feeding visits from their parents, which are spaced further and further apart as the fledglings grow, the young fulmars, from hatching to first flight, - a period of about 7 or 8 weeks - lead a lonely life. As they gradually exchange their grey nestling down for the brilliant white and pearl-grey plumage of adulthood, they become more and more visible. They can be seen, day after day and week after week, sitting on their nests gazing at nothing, with little protection from rain, wind or sun and no occupation or diversion except that provided by well-spaced feeding visits from their parents. At last even these visits cease and the young birds are left entirely to their own devices. However, by this time they are fully fledged and well-fed enough to live on their own accumulated fat for some ten days before hunger finally drives them to abandon their holes and ledges, and find food for themselves. This is one of the most dangerous moments for a fulmar for it's life depends on a successful launch towards the sea. Should it fall into a flat piece of ground, and especially among tangled vegetation, it's long wings and weak legs make it almost impossible for it to become airborne again.
The end of August and the first couple of weeks in September is usually the time when the Allt-nan-Creamh fulmars are ready to fly and, during those weeks, young birds may be sitting on their ledges, flapping their wings to strengthen them and then taking short circular flights out and back again in safety. It is now that I must look out for crash landings and be ready to rescue the casualties. In September, recently, I managed to effect one such rescue. Looking up to the nesting ledges one afternoon I saw a white object about the size of a golf ball in the middle of a blackberry tangle half way up the cliff. I soon realised that it was the head of a fulmar. After - for me - a strenuous climb, I reached the thicket and found the bird hopelessly entangled among the thorns. It did not attempt to struggle, nor did it spray me with the oily, foul-smelling liquid which fulmars are said to eject when interfered with, and which has given them their name - ful mar - Icelandic for foul gull. The reason for it's forbearance was probably because the liquid in question is used as a digestive for lubricating food, and this bird had no food in it's gullet. It lay perfectly still, it's head tilted, regarding me with a calm, black-ringed eye and I was able, without trouble, to gather in it's wings and put my hands around it's body, and lift it clear of the brambles. Without the help of hands I was not able to stagger far, but was just able to reach a nearby rock ledge with a clear outlook towards the sea, and there I placed the bird. It was quite unperturbed by it's adventure and immediately began to exercise it's wings. All afternoon I kept an eye on it until, at last, towards evening, it launched itself outwards from the ledge and became safely airborne. The last I saw of it was as a diminishing black shape winging it's way westward over the sea towards a slowly darkening horizon.
I hope it will return next year and for many years to come and that the growing hazards of polluted oceans will not put an end to this bird and, at last, to the whole success story of the Fulmars.