The Western Gulls 



mummy. In some instances, if the chick knew himself discovered, he felt 

 free to shift his position with a view to betterment. But instinct did not 

 serve a whit to guide the chicks in such efforts, and they were as likely to 

 topple off a precipice as to find a safer haven. 



A company of some hundred adults, fathers perhaps, lay offshore 

 and watched proceedings; but the mothers gave me earnest attention. 

 Three times I was struck upon the head, always from behind, by vicious 

 beaks, while I was engaged in the benevolent task of gathering up babies 

 for a picture. A plague upon this photography of infants anyway! 

 It is appreciated by neither parent nor child. A gull-let in the bush 

 is marble, but only his rump is visible; while a chick in the hand is the 

 squirmiest product of nature. No, sir! he will not keep still, nor stay 

 put for the pitiful fraction of a second. Ergo, the gallery of darlings 

 is still incomplete. 



Photo by Donald R. Dickey 



AN EVENING MEDITATION 



1392 



