CHAP. TWENTY-FIVE WATER BIRDS 



the terns as they dash at him if he happens to pass near 

 their nests. 



There is one kind of tern that breeds on the sandhills, 

 which is peculiarly beautiful, the lesser tern, or Terna 

 mintita. This little bird, scarcely bigger than a swift, and 

 of a pale blue in the upper part of her plumage, is of the 

 most satin-like and dazzling whiteness in all the lower por- 

 tions. It is a most delicate-looking creature, but has a 

 stronger and more rapid flight than the larger kinds, and 

 when he joins in their clamorous attacks on any enemy, ut- 

 ters a louder and shriller cry than one could expect to hear 

 from so small a body. Its eggs are similar in colour to those 

 of the common tern, but much smaller. 



The roseate tern also visits us. I do not know that I have 

 ever found the eggs of this kind, but I have distinguished 

 the bird by its pale bluish coloured breast, as it hovered 

 over my head amongst the other terns. 



A favourite position of the tern is on the stakes of the 

 salmon-fishers' nets. Frequently every stake has a tern on 

 it, where, if unmolested, they sit quietly watching the oper- 

 ations of the fishermen. Indeed, they are rather a tame 

 and familiar bird, not much afraid of man, and seemine to 

 trust (and, as far as I am concerned, not in vain) to their 

 beauty and harmlessness as a safeguard against the wand- 

 ering sportsman. Excepting when wanting a specimen 

 for any particular purpose, I make a rule never to mol- 

 est any bird that is of no use when dead, and which, like 

 the tern, is both an interesting and beautiful object when 

 living. 



These birds make but a short sojourn with us, arriving 

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