114 BIRD WATCHING 



to the heather, the cloud of witnesses disperse them- 

 selves, and, as with us each day, each hour, things 

 smooth themselves again over the high-placed acts 

 of successful villainy. Who troubles over a robbed 

 gull ? What moral Nemesis concerns itself with the 

 wrongs of some cheated, done -to -death savage or 

 tribe of savages ? Over both there is some shriek- 

 ing, some eloquence at the time, but both are soon 

 lost in oblivion, the waves close over, the world 

 jogs on its way. Retribution, retributive justice — 

 such fine things may exist, perhaps, but, if so, it 

 is for showier matters. Had the skuas robbed an 

 albatross, something, perhaps, would have happened. 

 Their sin might have found them out — then. A 

 gull is like an Armenian, or . . . but there are so 

 many. 



Thus closes one of nature's wild dramas. The 

 gulls are circling again now, and all is as before. 



"Es pfeift der Wind, die Moven schrein 

 Die Wellen, die wandern und schaumen." 



Such a scene as the above may often be witnessed 

 as one lies on the heather and watches, but for one 

 actual robbery that one sees there will be a dozen 

 or so unsuccessful attempts at it. Yet, if one believes 

 those who have the best opportunities of knowing, 

 neither the great nor the Arctic skua — the latter is 

 the bird to which attention has just been called — ever 

 eat a fish that has not first been swallowed by a gull 

 or tern. They say, moreover — at least, this assertion 

 is made in regard to the great skua — that if the 

 booty is not secured in mid-air, but falls either on the 

 sea or land, no further attention is paid to it by the 



