A Trip to the Farallones, 



are almost destitute of feathers, a little 

 dark fuzz here and there indicating 

 where the plumes will eventually appear, 

 while the pin-feathers may have started 

 as dark-colored quills. On our ap- 

 proaching a nest of young they would 

 open their immense mouths and stretch 

 their necks angrily toward the intruder, 

 uttering a low, hoarse, plaintive kwa, 

 kwa, kwa, kwa, kwa. On drawing 

 nearer the cries become more violent, 

 the birds fairly squawking in their ex- 

 citement. One nest that I observed 

 particularly, contained two young, one 

 much larger than the other. As we 

 sat watching them, at a short distance, 

 the older bird was noticed preening and 

 caressing the younger with its bill — an 

 unexpected instance of brotherly or sis- 

 terly interest among such low creatures. 

 Upon taking the younger bird from 

 the nest, however, the older one, in- 

 stead of manifesting a decent amount of 

 grief over the loss of its companion, 

 commenced, the moment its own safety 

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