HERRING GULL 13 



saw three gulls sailing on the glassy meadow at least half 

 a mile off, by the oak peninsula, — the plainer because 

 they were against the reflection of the hills. They looked 

 larger than afterward close at hand, as if their white- 

 ness was reflected and doubled. As we advanced into 

 the Great Meadows, making the only ripples in their 

 broad expanse, there being still not a ray of sunshine, 

 only a subdued light through the thinner crescent in 

 the north, the reflections of the maples, of Ponkawtasset 

 and the poplar hill, and the whole township in the 

 southwest, were as perfect as I ever saw. A wall which 

 ran down to the water on the hillside, without any re- 

 markable curve in it, was exaggerated by the reflection 

 into the half of an ellipse. The meadow was expanded 

 to a large lake, the shore-line being referred to the 

 sides of the hills reflected in it. It was a scene worth 

 many such voyages to see. It was remarkable how much 

 light those white gulls, and also a bleached post on a 

 distant shore, absorbed and reflected through that 

 sombre atmosphere, — conspicuous almost as candles 

 in the night. When we got near to the gulls, they rose 

 heavily and flapped away, answering a more distant one, 

 with a remarkable, deliberate, melancholy, squeaking 

 scream, mewing, or piping, almost a squeal. It was a 

 little like the loon. Is this sound the origin of the name 

 sea-mew? Notwithstanding the smoothness of the water, 

 we could not easily see black ducks against the reflection 

 of the woods, but heard them rise at a distance before 

 we saw them. 



April 22, 1857. A dozen gulls are circling over Fair 

 Haven Pond, some very white beneath, with very long, 



