THE PELICAN. 163 



The Pelican is much larger than the swan, and something re- 

 sembles it in shape and color. The principal difference, and that 

 which distinguishes this bird from all others, is its enormous bill 

 and extraordinary pouch. From the point of the bill to the open- 

 ing of the mouth, there is a length of fifteen inches; and under 

 the chap is a bag, reaching the entire length of the bill to the neck, 

 and capable, it is said, of holding fifteen quarts of water. When 

 empty, this pouch is not seen ; but when filled, its great bulk and 

 singular appearance may easily be conceived. The Pelican, says 

 Labat, has strong wings, furnished with thick plumage of an ash 

 color, as are the rest of the feathers over the whole body. Its eyes 

 are very small when compared to the size of its head ; there is a 

 sadness in its countenance, and its whole air is melancholy ; it is 

 as dull and reluctant in its motions as the flamingo is sprightly and 

 active. It is slow of flight; and when it rises to fly, performs it 

 with difficulty and labor; nothing, as it would seem, but the spur 

 of necessity, could make these birds change their situation, or in- 

 duce them to ascend into the air : but they must either starve or 

 fly. When they have raised themselves about thirty or forty feet 

 above the surface of the sea, they turn their head with one eye 

 downwards, and continue to fly in that posture. As soon as they 

 perceive a fish sufficiently near the surface, they dart down Upon 

 it with the swiftness of an arrow eize it with, unerring certainty, 

 and store it up in their pouch. They then rise again, though not 

 without great labor, and continue hovering and fishing, with their 

 head on one side as before. 



In feeding its young, the pelican squeezes the food deposited in 

 its bag into their mouths, by strongly compressing it upon its breast 

 with the bill ; an action, says Shaw, which might well give occa- 

 sion to the received tradition and report, that the pelican, in feeding 

 her young, pierced her own breast, and nourished them with her 

 blood. 



The writer of the hundred-and-second psalm alludes to the 

 lonely situation of the pelican in the wildernesss, as illustrative 

 of the poignancy of his own grief, at witnessing the desolation of 

 his country, and the prostration of her sacred altars. 





