TRACKS IN THE SAND 71 



On June 11, 1922, twelve years to the day 

 after my delightful but remote observation of the 

 new-born seal and its mother on a bar off Ipswich 

 beach, related in "Sand Dunes and Salt Marshes," 

 I found a young seal basking in the sun 

 twenty feet above the tide on the beach itself. 

 We saw each other about the same time, but, by 

 quick action on my part, I was able to head him 

 off from the water, and had, for the first time, a 

 chance to study this interesting animal in a wild 

 state at close range. 



He was a beautiful little creature, sleek and 

 velvety, handsomely marked in black and grey, 

 and ''speckled like a macreil" as were the mer- 

 maids of the ancient arctic explorers. His eyes 

 were large and lustrous, and he "looked ear- 

 nestly" on me. Young as he was, his full upper 

 lip carried a more than man-sized moustache of 

 long, stout and curving bristles. He was thirty 

 inches long and may have weighed twenty pounds. 

 He growled gently when barred from the water, 

 but made no attempt to bite, and allowed himself 

 to be stroked. 



When I stood aside he made straight for the 



