LIFE IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS 



of leaving, go on with almost the regularity of clockwork. 

 All this seems so wonderful, that the animal has been 

 accredited with a much higher order of intelligence than 

 it, probably, actually possesses. They come in order and 

 in season, and there is but little more disorder in their 

 going. When they leave, they move southward and go 

 through the various passes between the Aleutian Islands, 

 into the broader Pacific Ocean; some of them travel down 

 the Asiatic side; some are seen farther out to sea and still 

 others near the American coast. They certainly go as 

 far southward as the latitude of California, then return by 

 somewhat different routes. Such a voyage could never 

 be done by mere intelligence. But what wonderful instincts 

 guide them? After a trip of a thousand, sometimes over 

 two thousand miles they return to their fog-veiled islands 

 as surely as if the track had been planned on chart 

 and the creatures guided by compass. And they arrive at 

 just the right time; the males first, to locate the home, the 

 females later. The young are born within a few days after 

 landing and are reared on the shore, for the young seals 

 cannot swim until two or three months old. When they 

 have grown large enough to take care of themselves, have 

 learned how to swim well, and can fish for themselves, they 

 start with their parents on their long voyage southward. 

 All this goes on with the precision of an army under orders. 



But what a fascinating sight they present when on shore! 

 Sailors in port are not more frolicsome or in more fighting 

 mood. When we come too near, the male who is most 

 interested in the intrusion, advances and barks and growls 

 ominously, opens his big mouth which is much like that of 

 a large St. Bernard dog in shape but much larger in size, 

 and studded with rows of sharp, glistening, white teeth, 

 and says as plainly as animals can say, " Stop " — " Don't 

 come any nearer " — " Be off " — "I don't want you here." 

 You instinctively retreat a few steps, he stops his demon- 

 strations as much as to say, "That'll do at present," oc- 

 casionally barking to let you know that he means what 

 he says. 



They have the least fear of man of any other large wild 

 animal. We cannot call them " wild " in the most popular 

 sense of the word. They will fearlessly allow one to come 



227 



