The fulmars are plucked, the heads and wings cut off, the body split open, the interior fat cleaned out, and then the birds are either smoked or packed in salt for winter use. The fat is boiled down to a thick oil, spiced and used as a substitute for butter. Ten fulmars will yield a liter of oil. The oil is used in the native lamps. The entrails, heads, wings and legs are dried and used for fuel. It is so difficult to free the feathers from the oil that they are of little value. When thoroughly cleaned they are worth only twelve cents per pound. The birds themselves when cured are worth four cents each.
Nearly a thousand gannets, Solon Goose, are taken in these islands each year. Why it is called the “Solon” is not known. It is possible that it really possesses wisdom in excess of other geese. Scientifically it is not a real goose. A great many kittiwakes and guillemots are captured though the total value is much less than the above mentioned birds.
The young men of _Heimaey_ capture the stormy petrels alive for the purpose of playing jokes with them. The birds give a sound similar to the purring of a cat. Several of them are let loose in the night in the house of the person on whom the joke is to be played. The birds dart about the house in a lively manner and give their cry of alarm which is weird and uncanny. It produces the desired effect upon the sleeper as he awakens.
We steamed away from _Heimaey_, passed between _Fuglasker_ and _Reykjaness_ where steam was rising from numerous hot springs and at seven in the morning, having crossed _Faxafjörðr_, dropped anchor in the stream before the still slumbering city of _Reykjavik_.
“When the old world is sterile And the ages are effete, He will from wrecks and sediment The fairer world complete.”
After searching three years, _Ingölfr_ found the storm-driven pillars cast ashore in a steaming creek. He called the place _Reykjavik_, the _Smoking Creek_.
Hardly was the anchor down in the midstream before a rosy cheeked and genial gentleman came on board and introduced himself as Helgi Zoëga. He was the man with whom I had corresponded relative to arranging our trip, providing ponies, a guide and a pack train. To his quiet forethought and courteousness in after days I had much for which to be thankful. We were absolute strangers to land and people. He took us ashore in his boat and conducted us to _Hotel Island_ where we found a comfortable, large and well furnished room. Shortly our baggage appeared by the same quiet agency. I then went to his office and spent some time in going over the plan of the route to be followed, the ponies, their equipment and the provisions to be taken.