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Harold Taylor continues his memoirs:-
I nearly had a nasty accident, the first Saturday I was aboard, unbeknown to me there was a practice, that when the IOB's needed filling, the morning watch man filled Jerry cans with paraffin and carried them to the top of the stairway and left them balanced on the broadest part of the steps. Moving them up a flight at a time to save the exertion of carrying 5 gallons up four flights all in one go.
Having woken me for breakfast, Jones, did not warn me that this was what he was in the process of doing, with the result I came out of the bedroom onto the darkened staircase where I kicked into the top can, which proceeded to 'domino effect' the others as they cluttered down the tower spilling the contents, about thirty gallons.
This was bad in itself for the clean up it entailed, but worse was that the filler holes for the water tanks were in two of the landings, and one could not be sure how water, or oil tight they might be.
One day around lunch time, we heard a large muffled explosion, but observed nothing. I believe at the time visibility was quite good. Later we heard on the news that one of the new V class bombers had crashed in the Irish Sea near the Smalls.
There were supposed to be ships in the vicinity searching for it, but we saw none. Later; to assist in the recovery of all the bits to establish the cause of the disaster, there were some 17 fishing trawlers engaged in scraping the sea bottom.
On the following Sunday, the visibility was very murky, and I was on the verge of sounding for fog several times. During one of our listening times I heard a yacht giving either a distress or urgency call to the effect that she was broken down without steering way about a mile off the Smalls in thick fog en route from Dublin to Wales.
Very soon there was a tug hanging around about two miles north of us. The yacht still continued to give out these signals, so I started our detonations, then called the yacht and asked if they could hear the explosions, but I got a negative reply. This would not be unusual, because sound has some very funny rules of its own.
About two hours later however this drifting yacht turned up amid the trawlers 17 miles away. As a lighthouse keeper, I have little respect for the navigation expertise of yachtsmen and their like, gained over many years of being made aware of their errors and incompetence.
Soon after going aboard the Smalls I received a signal to the effect the returns of figures for the French Meteorological Office had not been forwarded. I found on examination of the books they had not been recorded.
I therefore studied the weather pattern for that month and worked out a figure based upon the weather we had experienced since the relief. It was apparent that all one could extract from these records was a mean wind speed over a given period of time, so although the figure might be wrong for that month, over the year the calculation would not alter.
Came the end of the month, as the Holyhead vessel was still in dry dock, the Swansea tender Alert was to carry out the relief and the storing up again, but this time with water. Things were still primitive and the water came aboard in 5 gallon wooden breakers, which had to be hauled out of the launch, dumped on the landing, then whilst the launch went back for another load, that which had been landed was then hauled up the tower to be emptied one at a time through a funnel into the water tanks.
This was a messy job, with we who were going ashore, dressed for the occasion, becoming dirty and soaked from the activity we were carrying out. A new P.K. had been appointed, who came off this relief, he was Charlie Walmsley. Pat Nice would be remaining, and was a previous acquaintance of the P.K.
They were having a conversation on the landing below where the casks were being hauled up. One of the strops of a cask broke, but fortunately for these two, instead of falling on them, struck the outward curve of the tower and disintegrated showering them only with water, whilst the wooden staves fell around them and the iron hoops went bowling along the landing in opposite directions.
I of course remained aboard the vessel to be landed once again on Bardsey to complete my turn. I think it was this turn where I met a fellow from the Met. Office, who was carrying out an inspection of the Meteorological instruments on the site controlled by the Bird Observatory.
They kept records there whilst they were in occupation, but none were kept over the winter. Mr Holgate, was expressing to me that they were in need of another station to cover the district, as two old ladies at Harlech, who were at present performing the role had expressed a wish to retire.
Not a lot is paid for these duties, but also it does not involve a lot of work. Many of our stations already did it, and if you were posted to one, you could not very well opt out. I broached the subject to Arthur who seemed to be in agreement, and Pat Murphy, seemed to be in agreement, so I suggested to Holgate, that he approach the P.K. before he made any suggestion to Trinity. There the matter ended for the time being.
Back on Bardsey, I made up for lost time in getting back into my interest at the Bird Observatory, where I helped Reg Arthur the Warden, as much as time allowed. I would collect up birds that came into the light, when there was not a 'rush' on. By signals I would let him know when there were birds to collect for ringing. It was in the autumn and winter when I came into my own.
One of the numerous birds that select Bardsey for their nesting site is the Manx Shearwater, a marine bird that only comes to land for breeding, otherwise wandering the world far and wide. They nest in holes in the ground or in walls. They are capable of digging their own burrows, but are quite prepared to use a rabbits. They come into land in flocks known as rafts, where they swoop very low over the water.
Because of attacks from gulls they use this mob grouping, and only come into land at night. Scuttling to their burrow, where they feed the parent or chick as the case may be before flying off again. Possibly being absent for several days. They start prospecting for nest sites late February, or early March. From laying the egg to the flight of the young, pullus, is a very long 120 days.
About 14 days before the young leave the nest and fly they are abandoned by the parents. It is mainly hunger that forces the birds out and into flight to the sea once they have gained their full plumage. Because of their structure, with their legs very near their rear end they have difficulty in taking off, therefore they usually climb to a high point and launch themselves into a wind. Windless days are useless for these charming birds. There are reports that these birds will be on the nest un-relieved by a partner for 14 days.
One researcher into these birds captured some birds once, transported them by train to London, had them flown to Brazil and released. They were back on their respective nests inside 14 days having made a flight of 8000 miles back. It was really unknown where the birds from Bardsey went, although it was known that the birds from other islands south of us went south, few of our birds had been recovered, but records that did exist suggested that they went northward.
After I left the area, a body of one of the ringed birds from our control was found in Venus Bay, Australia. When I came to know these birds I recognised them as a breed I had seen hanging in butchers shops in New Zealand, and labelled as Mutton Fat birds. When they are in their most easily catchable stage, before they can fly and have fattened up in the nest before desertion by the parent, they become very large and almost twice their adult size. Years ago the Scandinavian countries and the outer isles of the Celtic race also stored and ate them.
I came into my own with the ringing of Shearwaters under licence from Reg. When they had groups staying at the light in the right season of the year they would have Shearwater nights when they would set out to ring them. This was performed with one person holding the bird to restrain its sharp claws and beak, while the other attached a ring to one leg and recorded the details.
I simplified this with the use of a 1lb Cocoa tin. I would shove the dangerous part of the bird into the tin, that just left it tail and legs exposed. In that manner I coped with the ringing single handed. I would therefore go to all the local areas around the lighthouse whilst I was on watch, ringing birds without the assistance of the Observatory. Some nights they would send students down to me if they knew I was likely to go out ringing.
One of my students was the present head of Ringing of the R.S.P.B., Chris Mead. I notice that the method I developed has been adopted and is still used, except these days instead of a Cocoa tin they use a cone. Before I left the island I got my Bird Ringing Licence, but not from Reg. He had come in disfavour from several visitors. Several well known persons sponsored my inclusion, such as Bert Axell and Peter Condor, the then head of the R.S.P.B., through the good offices of Susan Cowdy.
Continued in part 3.
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