TALES OF FISHES 



white streams. I hurried after him, to that end 

 of the island where we had landed, and I found the 

 colony of boobies in a state of great perturbation. 

 All were squawking, flapping wings, and waddling 

 frantically about. Here was fear such as had not 

 appeared on my advent. 



Thousands of boobies were returning from deep- 

 sea fishing, and as they neared the island they were 

 met and set upon by a swarming army of rabihor- 

 cados. Darting white and black streaks crossed the 

 blue of sky like a changeful web. The air was full 

 of plaintive cries and hoarse croaks and the windy 

 rush of wings. So marvelous was this scene of in- 

 credibly swift action, of kaleidoscopic change, of 

 streaking lines and curves, that the tragedy at first 

 was lost upon me. Then the shrieking of a booby 

 told me that the robber birds were after their prey. 

 Manuel lay flat on the groimd to avoid being struck 

 by low-flying birds, but I remained standing in order 

 to see the better. Faster and faster circled the pur- 

 sued and pursuers and louder grew the cries and 

 croaks. My gaze was bewildered by the endless, 

 eddying stream of birds. 



Then I turned my back on sea and beach where 

 this bee-swarm confused my vision, and looked to 

 see single boobies whirling here and there with two 

 or three black demons in pursuit. I picked out one 

 group and turned my glass upon it. Many battles 

 had I seen by field and stream and mountain, but 

 this unequal battle by sea eclipsed all. The booby's 

 mother instinct was to get to her young with the 

 precious fish that meant life. And she would have 

 been more than a match for any one thief. But she 



