CHAPTER IX. Birds of the Sea- 

 Shore 



IT is a bright, frosty morning early in January. 

 The sky is almost cloudless, though a haze 

 hangs thickly on the horizon, obscuring the 

 distant hills and cliffs. It is almost low 

 water, and a wide belt of sand, left uncovered, rises 

 gently till about a quarter of a mile from the sea 

 it ends in a barrier of sand-dunes, at once crowned 

 and held together by rushes, effectually enforcing 

 its command on the waves, "Thus far and no 

 further ! " 



The tide is, however, rising, and the waves 

 struggle shore wards against a stiff easterly wind, 

 which catches the crests of the breakers, causing 

 the manes of the miniature "white horses" to 

 trail yards behind them. 



A few Herring Gulls sail swiftly along just 

 above the waves. Theirs is the very poetry of 

 motion ; no effort, only an occasional adjustment 

 of the angle at which the wing is held. Another 

 slight change, almost imperceptible to the eye, 

 and the bird rises with a graceful curve into the 

 air, wheels and swoops down, gathering the 

 necessary impetus for the return journey. Very 

 different is the laboured flapping of the Cor- 

 morant as he passes us flying just above the 

 waves with his long neck outstretched. 



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