no 



JOHN BURROUGHS 



yard of surface. They were flying about over the ship or 

 flapping over the water away from her front at all times. 

 I noticed that they could not get up from the water except 

 against the wind; the wind lifted them as it does a kite. 

 With the wind or in a calm they skimmed along on the 

 surface, their heads bent forward, their wings beating the 

 water impatiently. Unable to rise they would glance 

 behind them in a frightened manner, then plunge beneath 

 the waves until they thought the danger had passed. At 

 all hours of the night and day one could hear this impa- 

 tient flapping of the frightened murres. The bird is a 







MURRES. 



species of diver, nearly as large as a black duck. Their 

 tails are so short that in flying their two red feet stretched 

 behind them do the duty of a tail. It is amusing to see 

 them spread or contract them in turning or changing their 

 course, as the case required. After we had taken our fill 

 of gazing upon the murres came the ramble away from 

 the cliffs in the long twilight through that mossy and 

 flowery solitude. Such patterns and suggestions for rugs 

 and carpets as we walked over for hours; such a blending 



