The White Pigeon 91 



yield to any panic. And why should it? It had been raised on 

 the islands of the Strait of Juan de Fuca or of Puget Sound 

 where life had been a constant battle. It had been an adven- 

 turer from the time it could fly, had sought its food over a 

 wide area, and had pursued it regardless of distances in- 

 volved. It had no gentleness in its makeup. It recognized no 

 right but force and, if gulls of this kind are known and es- 

 teemed as scavengers, it is probably because such food is 

 easier to get and not because they will not take live food if 

 the opportunity offers. It was a predator within the limits of 

 its slow flight, physical strength, and build. It fought with 

 its own kind, with other species of gulls, and with other kinds 

 of birds. It squabbled and stole because that was the type 

 of life which suited it. 



As I approached, my dragging paddle came near the bird. 

 It met it boldly with a forward motion of its head and a 

 mighty attack which placed the full action of its bill on the 

 thin cedar tip so that the marks on the paddle are still visible. 

 Then, perhaps realizing that fast retreat was impossible, it 

 remained by the side of the canoe as a cat might face a dog 

 in a doorway. It opened its bill, looked at me, and showed no 

 signs of yielding even though it was badly crippled. The 

 water close to shore was so free from wind that I could see 

 the reflections of the bird and the cattails. We watched each 

 other for a moment. I wished the bird no harm; on the con- 

 trary, I wished it all the good luck it so badly needed, and so 

 I left it. As I went around the little point where the canal 

 opened into the bay I saw the bird still watching me, perhaps 

 with some glimmer of an idea that the canoe and its occupant 

 had been faced and vanquished. 



For several trips after that I always saw the bird indus- 

 triously covering the shore margins, working busily, picking 

 up small pieces of this and that, determined to live, and put- 

 ting out the effort to achieve that determination, afraid of 

 nothing, yielding to nothing. I never saw another gull near it. 



