THE WHITE-WINGED FLEET 



came to our ears, and we could see hundreds of 

 the Gulls in the air out over the middle of the lake. 

 By the time the others had pitched camp in the 

 timber our young guide and I had secured a boat, 

 of which he knew, and we all sallied out, poling 

 through the grass. We passed various Coots' nests 

 and hovering parties of Black Terns, when about 

 quarter of a mile out, crossing a wide lane of open 

 water, we approached a tract of the long, coarse 

 grass growing out of four or five feet of water, 

 where the colony began. Not a great many Gulls 

 had been in sight, but now they began to rise from 

 the grass, hundreds upon hundreds of them, yes, 

 thousands. The clamor of the nearer ones started 

 those farther along, and even away off in the dis- 

 tance we could see clouds of fluttering white wings. 

 The nearer ones immediately came toward us, and 

 hovered screaming over our heads. The scene, as 

 far as number of birds was concerned, was the 

 only one I have 

 witnessed that 

 could rival Bird 

 Rock. At times 

 part of the mul- 

 titu d e would 

 come together in 

 an unusually 

 compact mass, 

 and circle about 



US. "HERE WERE THE NESTS, RUDE FLOATING PLATFORMS 



OF DEAD GRASS STEMS." NEST OF FRANKLIN'S GULL 



Here were 



the nests, rude floating platforms of dead grass 

 stems, only slightly hollowed, a few feet or 



161 



