in Captivity 161 



The gull rose from his nest, took one quick run, 

 and to poor Snub's horror, seized him viciously by his 

 curly tail. There was one shriek of fright, and pain, 

 too, I should think, from poor Puggins, and another 

 of victory from the gull, who walked solemnly back 

 with a wicked expression in his yellow eye, which 

 plainly said — " Had you that time, my friend " — and 

 then sat down again on his nest. 



He grew tired of that one, and went farther afield 

 into the park, where he built another at the foot of a 

 tree trunk, and pecked boldly at the heels of the Jersey 

 cows if they wandered too near him. 



When he moulted he used to fly about, for unlike 

 my other gulls, he wasn't pinioned ; so that when the 

 old cut quills of his wings fell out, he was able of 



course to grow new ones. 



And very pretty it was to see him flying round, 

 much to the envy of his confreres. They had been pin- 

 ioned when they were quite babies, which only meant 

 the removal of a small piece of gristle on one wing. 



A very slight operation, causing no inconvenience 

 five minutes atter it was performed. I can hardly 

 believe that the splendid great black-back gulls that 

 I now have in their adult plumage, were once the 

 small fluffy babies that I took from their nest when 

 a few hours old. 



The poor old herring gull met his match, and his 

 fate too. 



To my sorrow I found him one day lying dead in the 

 park, with a big hole prodded in his back, stiletto-like. 



One of my Australian cranes was the murderer. 



L 



