THE WESTERN GULL. 727 
Split Rock, a bleak islet off Cape Elizabeth, is occupied by a colony of 
these Western Gulls. When I visited it on the Twelfth day of July, 1906, 
young birds, from infants to those half grown, were in hiding everywhere. 
The danger sign had, of course, been passed around, and not a youngster 
on the island but froze in his tracks, no matter where he happened to be. 
It was pathetic to find, as I did now and then, babes soaking heroically in 
the filthy green pools left in hollows of the rock by ancient rains, rather than 
attract attention by scrambling out. One youngster had evidently been 
nibbling playfully at a bit of driftwood cast high up, for I found him with 
the stick be- ; —— - — = 
tween his 
mandibles, | 
| 
as motionless 
as a Pompe- 
ian mummy. 
lin “Sows | 
instances, if | 
the chick | 
knew _ him- 
self  discov- 
ered, he felt | 
free to shift | 
his position 
with a view 
to better- 
ment. But | 
instinct did 
not serve a 
whit to guide 
the chicks 1m Taken at Split Rock. 
Photo by the Author 
such efforts, YOUNG WESTERN GULL. 
and they 
were as likely to topple off a precipice as to find a safer haven. 
A company of some hundred adults, fathers perhaps, lay offshore and 
watched proceedings; but the mothers gave me earnest attention. ‘Three 
times I was struck upon the head, always from behind, by vicious beaks, 
while I was engaged in the benevolent task of gathering up babies for a 
picture. A plague upon this photography of infants anyway! It is appreci- 
ated neither by parent nor child. A gull-let in the bush is marble, but only 
his rump is visible; while a chick in the hand is the squirmiest product 
of nature. No, sir, he will not keep still, nor stay put for the pitiful 
fraction of a second. Ergo, the gallery of darlings is still incomplete. 
