The Zoologist — September, 1866. 363 



bright sea tempted it lazily to lie in clusters upon its glittering sur- 

 face, picking the old feathers from its breast to give place to those for 

 the coming hard winter. It seems as happy as if it and the kittiwake 

 were united together, as of old, in genial autumn, to wage war upon 

 the luckless herring fry, when with shriller cry and more aciive dart, it 

 used to take its prey from the very bill of its three-toed brother; and 

 he himself, poor fellow ! how those crow-like thieves, the skuas, would 

 force to disgorge, with angry wail, after vain and fruitless efforts at 

 escape, a part of his last hard-earned meal. In the most stormy easterly 

 weather this gull keeps to the sea, unlike the true gulls, which always 

 in easterly gales soar over and along the rocks of this iron-bound 

 coast. We pass through a large city (Dublin), and from its busy 

 quays we see the brownhooded gull, in its pearly winter plumage, in 

 the very heart of that city, sailing and gliding about its polluted river, 

 without any fear of the listless idlers that gaze upon its varied flights, 

 and wonder how its bright red legs and pure breast can touch without 

 contamination that monstrous cesspool — that disgrace to civilization — 

 the River Liffey. We see it taking long things in its mouth, and 

 scai'ce dare think what they are, yet their white and knotted bodies 

 put the name into our mouths : they are tapes, and bloated grubs and 

 other beastly food; but still it looks as pure as if the bright green 

 brine was dancing still beneath its wings. We find ourselves upon a 

 desert strand, — a wild black oozy slob, — its muddy stones are overgrown 

 with dark and sickly weeds and green slime ; beyond, stretch those 

 miles of gray sand, appearing as if smoking, for the wind is carrying 

 their light particles along in clouds. The air is impregnated with the 

 smell of iodine, so sweet to the wild-fowl shooter, and many cries 

 come to his ears — the sounds of Nature, the song of birds, making 

 him still more lonely, still more at home. Loud above others sounds 

 the curlew's lonely whistle, and next the blackheaded gull's varied 

 cries and screams, " kree kree," " krek," " kree-e-e-e," " kree-a-kree," 

 " shek-ak-shek-ak," " sil lee-e-e," — apt music for the place and scene. 

 Yes, here the bird that seeks the city's heart walks his domain, 

 leaving the impress of his little scarlet foot on the shaking ooze, as 

 with lordly step and nodding head he seeks Crustaceans, Astereae and 

 marine insects, and worms in the mud; but here he shuns you : he is 

 ever wary when man seeks him either on sea or land. The farmer 

 follows his plough with trudging step, laying bare the secret haunts of 

 worms and other vermin : behind him and on either side follow the 

 little blackheaded gull and his more noble brother, the common gull. 



