[woop] LAURENCIANA 51 
choose cliffs for a sea-pigeon loft, a mile or two long. The higher 
ledges of other suitable cliffs would certainly be lined with white- 
breasted puffins, murres and razor-billed auks. The auks and murres 
stand up as if they were at a real review, but the puffins, or “ sea-parrots,” 
with their grotesque red beaks—like a false nose at a fancy dress ball— 
and pursy bodies set low on stumpy red legs, always look like a stage 
army in comic opera. And there’s a deal of talking in the ranks— 
the puffins croak, the auks grunt, and the murres keep repeating their 
gutteral name—“murre, murre.”’ 
Now look along the sanctuary shore, where you have been hearing 
the plaintive “ter-lee” of the plover, the triple whistle of the yellowleg, 
and the quick “peet-weet” of the sandpiper or “alouette.”” In the 
season you will always find the little sandpipers running about like 
nimble atoms of the grey-brown beach, as if its very pebbles bred them. 
No birds have a more changeful appearance on the wing. Some dis- 
tance off, with their backs to you, they are a mere swarm of black 
midges. But when, at the inner end of their loop of flight, they see 
you and turn, all together, they instantly flash white as gulls and 
large as swallows. 
If you have a stealthy foot and a quick eye you will have a good 
chance of getting near my Great Blue Heron, when he is stooping 
forward over promising water, Intent as any other angler over a 
likely pool. He is a splendid fellow, tall as you are when he stands 
on tip-toe looking out for danger. And I always enjoy his high disdain 
for the company of intrusive man, when he flaps silently away, with 
his grand head thrown back, his neck curved down, and his legs list- 
lessly trailmg. A very different bird is the clamorous Canada goose 
or “Outarde,” during migration. I would choose a likely spot for the 
lines of migration to pass over. On astill day you can hear the vibrant, 
penetrating honk! honk! long before the black, spreading V of the 
hurrying flock appears on the horizon. As they get nearer they sound 
more like a pack in full cry. And when they are overhead they might 
be a mass-meeting ripe for a riot. 
Very different, again, are the hawks and eagles. They would be 
represented by the osprey, which we call the “fish hawk,” and the 
bald-headed eagle, who surely ought to be a sacred beast in the United 
States, because his image appears on their adorable money. Of course 
I would protect both Killers and eagles, to give the same spice to 
sea and sky as the old robber barons used to give to the land. Besides, 
they help to preserve the balance of Nature by destroying the weak- 
lings; unlike the sportsman, who upsets it by killing off the finest 
specimens, It is a common sight enough, but one of unfailing interest, 
to watch an osprey hover expectantly, and then plunge, like a javelin, 
