Gulls 



This exquisite little gull, whose darting, skimming flight sug- 

 gests that of the sea swallow, flies swallow-fashion over the 

 ploughed fields of the interior to gather larvae and insects, as well 

 as over the ocean to pick up bits of animal food, either fresh or 

 putrid, that float within range of its keen, nervous glance. Jerking 

 its head now this way and now that, suddenly it turns in its 

 graceful flight to swoop backward upon some particle passed 

 a second before. Nothing it craves for food seems to escape 

 either the eyes or the bill of this tireless little scavenger. In 

 sudden freaks of flight, in agility and lightness of motion, it is 

 conspicuous in a family noted for grace on the wing. 



A front view of Bonaparte's gull, as it approaches with its 

 long pointed wings outspread, would give one the impression 

 that it is a black-headed white bird, until, darting suddenly, its 

 pearly mantle is revealed. It is peculiarly dainty whichever way 

 you look at it. 



In the author's note book are constant memoranda of seeing 

 these little gulls hunting in couples through the surf on the 

 Florida coast one March. Mr. Bradford Torrey records the same 

 observation, but adds, "that may have been nothing more than 

 a coincidence." Is it not probable that these gulls, like all their 

 kin, in their devotion to their mates, were already paired and 

 migrating toward their nesting grounds far to the north ? While 

 the birds hunted along the Florida shore they kept up a plaintive, 

 shrill, but rather feeble cry, that was almost a whistle, to each 

 other; and if one was delayed a moment by dipping into the 

 trough of the wave for some floating morsel, it would nervously 

 hurry after its mate as if unwilling to lose a second of its com- 

 pany. In the autumn migrations, however, these "surf gulls," 

 as Mr. Torrey calls them, are seen in large flocks along our coasts, 

 and inland, too, where there is no surf for a thousand miles. 



The nest, which is built north of the United States, is placed 

 sometimes in trees, sometimes in stumps, or in bushes, the rude 

 cradle of sticks, lined with grasses, containing three or four 

 grayish olive eggs, spotted with brown, chiefly at the larger end. 

 Such a clutch is a rare find for the collector, few scientists, even, 

 having seen the Bonaparte gulls at home. Charles Bonaparte, 

 Prince of Canino, might have left us a complete life history of 

 his namesake, had not European politics cut short his happy and 

 profitable visit in America. 



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