TREASURE-TROVE AT THE SHORE 233 
stout, hooked bills, then flew swiftly overhead toward the 
creek, across the salt meadows, with a shrill cry, such as 
the creaking windlass of a well gives when the rope plays 
out quickly and the bucket drops — “quake-wake- 
wake.” 
Further out, in the arm of the bar, where there was no 
current, and the water was deep and smooth, many Gulls 
were resting motionless as white skiffs at anchor, or 
flying and diving for food in the wake of some boats that 
were evidently grappling to discover the extent of the 
damage to the oyster-beds. 
“ How many kinds of Gulls are there?” asked Goldilocks. 
“Three, I should think, unless the males and the females 
were different.” 
“The Gulls here are all Herring, or, as the Wise Men 
now wish them called, ‘ Harbour Gulls.’ The old birds have 
the pure white breasts and pearly gray, or what is some- 
times called ‘Gull-blue,’ upper parts and the black-and- 
white wing-markings. The mixed and streaked ash, 
buff, and brown birds are the young of the year, while the 
black-and-white patched birds are not Gulls, but Old 
Squaw Ducks. These have spent the winter about the bay 
and bar ever since I can remember, and, strangely enough, 
both Gulls and Ducks seem to be no less in number than 
they were twenty years ago. That is probably because 
the Gulls are protected, and the Ducks’ flesh is so tough 
that even a hungry dog could hardly tear it apart. I hope 
your children are noticing these birds while they are 
gathering driftwood for the fires,’ Gray Lady said to Miss 
Wilde. ‘It is very seldom that they come to the shore as 
late as this, or see the Gulls in such numbers. It seems 
