beneath the surface, to emerge, an instant later, with his prey. 
One can measure the force of such a plunge by the cruel trick, 
sometimes played by fishermen, of fastening a herring to a board, 
and setting it adrift where gannets are about. The unsuspecting 
victim descends as usual upon his prey, only to meet instant death 
by the shock of his impact with the board. Those who talk 
glibly of indentifying birds by their flight may point to this 
wonderful diver as a case in point. But while one may often 
see the gannet on the wing, it is by no means so often that one will 
have the good fortune to see him dive, for he is not always hungry. 
His white body, pointed tail, and black quill-feathers would 
then enable the novice to name him at once. But—in his 
immature plumage, he would, at a little distance, appear black, 
and unless he were fishing, the chances of recognition would be 
by no means great. Close at hand he would appear speckled 
with white. 
But this by the way. ‘There are two other birds which dive 
from a height on the wing. One of these is the kingfisher: the 
other is the tern. The term “tern” is here used collectively, 
for there are several species, but all have this habit of diving 
from a height. During the summer months one may be quite 
sure of an opportunity of watching the graceful, easy flight of 
at least three species. For they haunt the sea-shore, river, and 
lake with equal impartiality. Those who are on the lookout for 
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