THE CALIFORNIA GULL. 735 
you know; and so why doesn’t the wind take the kite along with it? 
Well, there you are; and not even Hamilton, who discovered quaternions, 
could have given the mathematics of it. The Bluebird and Phoebe are 
smarter than we be, and we'd give a cool billion to get the receipt. 
Forward and back, to and fro, and around—why, Hello! There’s a 
bird without any feet. Won't he have a hard time of it tho! And now— 
why, there’s another! Not a vestige! The immaculate feathers close over 
the footless stumps and betray no sign of their presence. The wind is 
searching, and Mr. Gull, who does not approve of chilblains, kicks his yellow 
feet one at a time under the white blanket of feathers provided by the under 
tail-coverts, and proceeds footless upon the mazy journey. \What’s the use 
of feet anyway when you have wings? 
On the voyage feet are useful only as the birds take turns at the mast 
head, pausing for a moment with wings gracefully outstretched until they 
have mastered the motion of the boat. These stations on mast and flag- 
staff are jealously coveted, and the gull that would hold one must be vigilant 
in defense, or at least ready to bluff the aspirant with a mighty scowl. 
Otherwise a quick dab from behind will upset the dignified Burgomaster, 
balance, dignity, and all. But who may comprehend by epithet or episode 
the unflagging charm of the white-winged fleet——now in the van leading 
away with brave impudence, now registering a retreat with far-flung shadows 
on the smoke-stack, now trailing laboriously in the wake like faithful hounds 
in leash. What humility of supplication! What perfect independence! What 
condescension of grace! What boundless exultation of wings wings, WINGs! 
Oh, who would not give hands and feet for wings! 
Taken in Seattle. From a Photograph, Copyright, 1908, by W. L. Dawson, 
TO ARMS! 
CALIFORNIA GULLS QUITTING THE TIDE-FLATS, 
