A LONG PROCESSION 



PELAGIC birds, properly so called, seldom 

 favor the neighborhood of the beach with 

 their presence. If a solitary fulmar swims within 

 the range of a field-glass, it is by accident rather 

 than design. So I infer, at least, from the extreme 

 rarity of the occurrence. And yet, when such an 

 event does happen, the stranger, if you keep it 

 in sight long enough, may not unlikely pass di- 

 rectly under your feet as you stand on the pier. 

 If it stays mostly out of sight of land, it is not 

 because anything on shore frightens it. It was 

 made to live at sea, though it was hatched on land, 

 just as the toad, its poor relation, is made to live 

 on land, though it is hatched in the water. 



There is one genus of oceanic birds, however, 

 that in the right season may be seen, and that 

 not so very infrequently, streaming past by thou- 

 sands, an innumerable host, moving in one con- 

 tinuous procession, up the coast or down the coast, 

 as things may happen. And an exhilarating sight 

 it is, although, unless your vision carries farther 

 than mine, you must generally have a field-glass 

 through which to view it. Sometimes the route of 

 the birds lies within the whistling buoy (about 

 70 



