142 THE BOOK OF THE OPEN AIR 



swimmers. They do not often light much is there of them, and so little 



on the water. Sometimes, at high is left. The tail is a charming object, 



tide, they may drop for a little ; but The outer feathers on either side ex- 



not to float lightly, nor paddle about, tend far beyond the rest. The depth 



They rest on a bank at the ebb. Nor and delicacy of the fork tell of the 



do they often rest ; but when they lesser tern. 



do, they rest absolutely. They are A very intense speck is the bird 



utterly quiescent. They squat low in the air, a concentrated ray of 



and look dumpy, as though leaning on light. In flight it strains: in poise 



their breasts. Tail and wings trail it quivers. Its scream is charged 



on the wet sand. They rise, and with fretful impatience. So keen is 



are no longer mean. Their legs are it, that, in comparison among seaside 



weak because they live in the air. sounds, that of the redshank seems 



They are fashioned for flight. Even to lose its edge. No bird I can think 



then, they do not rival the great of is so highly strung. It has none 



flyers. They do not float and tack of the placid mood, the happy-go- 



and steer as the gulls do. There is lucky temper of the gull. It does not 



none of the absence of effort, the easy take life easily. This may account 



command of every movement, the for much. 



reserve, the slow play, the calm sense No waiter on providence, or on the 



of power. There is a want of sym- sea, is the tern. It is too restless for 



metry in their form, of proportion in that. Impatience lends it resource, 



their parts ; neither smoothness nor It makes a bid for its own living, 



balance. But they get along : there When the sheen appears below, it does 



is swiftness. A tern on the wing, and not pass over. It pauses. It searches 



on the sand are two extremes motion, the barren places that it may find, 



and rest incarnate. Under a like disability with the gulls, 



On the bents the other day, I picked it will not be denied quietly. To 



up a dead bird. As I look at it now, its quicker wit, a middle way appears, 



I see how everything has been sacri- between scanning the surface for a 



need to speed. The fragile body is floating object and reaching the tenants 



little more than a connecting link, of the depths. Its kingdom is the 



I pull out the wings, joint by joint ; shallows. It quivers, it focuses, it 



they stretch to a great length. So screams, it dashes down. Head first 



