358 
LAKlDyE. 
blundering Gull Haps sulkily away, uttering discontented and 
rueful notes which would try the gravity of a judge, its queer 
gruntings and croakings seeming almost to shape themselves 
into an aspiration that the fish may do anything but agree with 
the stomach of its new proprietor.* 
The Arctic Skua is an extremely bold bird, and though it 
v'ill sometimes give chase to a Einged Plover or a Knot, to 
serve for food when it cannot get any fish, it never hesitates to 
attack even the largest and most powerful of the Gulls, taking 
toll even from the Great Black-backed itself. It will attack 
and put to flight a Eaven, nor does it shrink in the least from 
an encounter with a dog. Instead of attempting to decoy from 
the breeding haunts any chance dog that may think to make a 
prize of the young birds, the Shooies will sweep right at him, 
screaming, and giving him smart scratches upon the back as 
they rush past, untE the poor animal, thoroughly exhausted 
with vain attempts to seize his tormentor, is at length compelled 
to return whence he came, often with the loss of part of his 
coat. And all this audacity, be it remembered, is shown by a 
slight, graceful bird, that would not take down the scale against 
a tolerable Pigeon. One evening in July I saw a white- 
breasted Hawk, as it appeared, tearing to pieces another bird, 
probably a Plover, and presently found that the supposed 
* If this seems overstated, let the critic pause until he has had the oppor- 
tunity of listening to an old Great Black-backed Gull, for example, which has 
for a wonder failed to notice him as he lies hid. I well remember, years ago, 
one evening, when my brother and I w'ere on the island of Balta, motionless 
among the stones and sand-hills, in hopes of a rabbit for our larder, an old Gull 
of that species, passing very slowly overhead, was talking to himself in so 
ludicrous a fashion, precisely as though making comments on things in 
general, that neither of us could refrain from a hearty laugh. The fact is, 
birds have a power of expression vastly beyond anything that is dreamed of by 
the casual observer, nor is there the smallest exaggeration in speaking of a 
bird-language. Such a thing is really existent, and none the less so for being 
inarticulate. He must be but a poor naturalist, or, what is the same thing, but 
an in-door naturalist, who has not learned that a bird’s larynx is not a mere 
organ-pipe, constructed to give only one note or sequence of notes, any more 
than his own. There is not an emotion, not even excepting gratitude, that 
cannot find vocal expression among them. Indeed, there is nothing in all 
these pages so remarkable as the incident related on page 119, of the Eoseate 
I’astor not understanding the alarm note of the Starlings. — E d. 
