far out on the bosom of the wide ocean lay lonely island, a small, rock-bound hummock of sand against which the breakers roared and dashed furiously. so wild and barren was the spot that no one visited it, for no human being could live there; nothing throve but rank grasses and stunted beech plum shrubs. over upon the south side of the island were steep ledges, shelving down into deep water, and this spot alone was never lonely or still, because it was inhabited by thousands of screaming water-fowl.
down between the cliffs in the lowliest tenements dwelt the snipe and petrel families, the latter seldom at home except during their nesting season. along the shelf-like places of the rocks above dwelt the gannets, the terns and all other tribes belonging to the gull family. high up in their home crannies the sea birds could always catch the pearly shimmer of the breaking of an approaching school of herrings, even before they reached the line of tossing foam below. then, swift and sure, they would dart out to meet them. it was wonderful to watch the herring gulls at their fishing, now skimming low over giant, green waves, now sinking into the trough of the sea. then, with a sudden swift splash of feathery spray, behold the sharp-eyed gull secures the fish and is back again in his own nest upon the cliff. strangely enough, although the cliff was swarmed with other gull families, each cranny bearing its nest looking precisely like another, never did a returning gull make a mistake or intrude upon another family.
for many seasons the gulls and their kindred had nested upon lonely island, but one year hunters discovered their retreat, and set up a temporary camp upon the barren sands. they had come to hunt for terns, killing and slaughtering them by hundreds, just for the sake of their beautiful, delicate feathers for which they were to be paid much money. finally the hunters abandoned the island, leaving behind them many wounded, besides scores of deserted young birds, not out of the pin-feather age, who would finally pine and die alone upon the lonely ledges, when the parent birds failed to come back to feed them.
for a season, fear and chaos reigned among the gull settlements. day after day the frightened sea fowl circled wildly about their cliffs, their weird, lonely calls alone breaking the silence, ringing even above the noise of the breakers below them. so many of the colonies were broken up and disturbed that they flew off in detached numbers, perhaps seeking some safer retreat inland.
high up, perched upon one of the topmost crags of lonely island, sat all alone a solitary gull. below, within sight, upon a shelf-like rock, a smaller bird, his mate, sat disconsolately upon the very edge of her dismantled nest, unwilling to tear herself away from two featherless young gulls, her babies, who would never stretch out their long necks to her for food again. they were limp and dead—the hunters had wantonly thrown down loose rocks and broken up the nest.
although silver wing, the old leader of the gull tribe, felt badly enough over the loss of the little gulls, he was much older and wiser than his mourning mate; he had lived through many seasons and similar tragic events in his life. so even while his mate sat mourning, his sharp eyes had been fixed upon a certain wave crest out beyond the breaker line.
with a sudden swift rush of his wide wings he launched himself from the cliff; a wild plunge and he rose from the great wave bearing aloft a glistening herring. with a graceful sweeping detour, he swerved in toward the cliff, and finally landed close beside his mate, where he dropped the fish beside her with a little crooning, plaintive cry, which meant, of course, "take this nice herring which i have brought you, and be comforted, little mate." with another swirl of his wings he flew to fish for another herring before the school could get away.
he rose from the great wave, bearing aloft a glistening herring.
he rose from the great wave,
bearing aloft a glistening herring.
in spite of the efforts of silver wing, who tried for days to rouse his mate and tempt her to fly off over the water upon fishing trips, she continued to linger around the old nest until he became almost discouraged. finally he determined to leave lonely island, start off and found a new home, as many of his kindred had already done after the invasion of the cruel hunters. accordingly, silver wing, in some manner known to his tribe, induced his companion to accompany him upon a long flight. one fine day, in company with others of the colony who decided to follow their old leader, they started for the far distant coast.
occasionally they would halt upon some small, lonely island, but, as it happened, none of them proved to be exactly suited to the gulls' needs. the islands were often flat and sterile, mere strips of white sand and beech grass, with no rocky ledges suitable for nest building. so on and on flew the gulls, with heavy wings. sometimes they would sight what appeared to be a small island, from which would trail long streamers of smoke. when the gulls came up close to these islands they would be terrified by strange, uncanny hootings and tootings. besides, whenever they gained courage to hover over these strange, floating islands, they always proved to be filled with people, creatures like the hunters. one thing they discovered was that by following in the wake of the floating islands they always found plenty to eat, strange food of all kinds upon which they eagerly fed.
for a sea bird the worst storms at sea have small terror. the petrels, or "mother gary's chickens," as the sailors call these birds, love best, it is said, to ride upon the very crest of a giant wave during a wild storm, and the gulls are equally at home upon the bosom of the ocean. it is only when straying birds are adrift, seeking a new country, and are driven ahead of a storm toward the coast, that they are occasionally overcome by the elements. so it happened that a great storm arose and struck the colony of fleeing gulls, sweeping them inland. on their great wide wings they flew ahead of the gale, on and ever on through the blackness of the inky night, until at last the poor wind-driven things finally sighted an object big and bright, beckoning, winking to them out of the darkness; and toward this the gulls, and a host of other smaller straying birds who were swept ahead of the storm, made their way. hopefully they neared the bright beacon. the next rough, whirling gale caught them and dashed them pitilessly against the lantern of the lighthouse, and down again upon the blackness of the cruel rocks beneath them.
fortunately. silver wing, the brave, giant gull, whose broad wings were still strong and unwearied, had penetrated the inky darkness with his sharp eyes. he had seen the danger ahead, and just at the right instant had swerved aside, with powerful wing strokes, just clearing the great lamp, which had almost blinded his eyes. so he with his mate, who invariably followed his lead, were swept coastward ahead of the mighty gale, but to safety.
when morning broke, silver wing and his mate found themselves upon the bank of a great river. here were plenty of other gulls, but of a strange, new tribe. the river was bordered with mud flats, which at low tide formed splendid feeding grounds. crayfish, and shoals of small, shining fish abounded. but, to tell the truth, neither the old gull nor his mate were very happy or contented with the river bank. they had known only the wild life of their lonely ocean island and missed the booming breakers along the cliffs, the companionship of the sea bird colonies, the terns, the gannets, and the little roving petrels. besides, this new, almost tame tribe of gulls was vastly different in other respects. silver wing and his mate felt they could never mix with these small, brownish plumaged birds who fought and wrangled among themselves, who were content to brood for hours in the black mud of the river flats. more than once during their stay silver wing had really to thrash one of these bold, foolhardy brown gulls for presuming to pay attention to his own mate, and at last he came to hate the very spot, becoming wildly jealous of every brown gull who crossed him in any way. he and his mate determined to go off and seek a new home, for it was almost nesting time again, and silver wing realised the importance of settling as soon as possible. so, one day he gave the starting signal, and after hovering triumphantly overhead above the gormandising brown tribe upon the mud flats beneath them, screaming back a loud, lonely challenge, off they flew.
for many days they flew along the shores of the sound, now skimming low to dip their grey wings in the blue waves, flirting the spray high in silvery showers, or feeding along the beaches for little tender mussels or soft-shell clams, and playing tag with the funny little sandpipers who ran across the sands, and scattering them just for fun. at last they reached a desolate, rocky strip of coast, and after much flying about they finally settled upon a convenient cliff beneath which stretched a long line of sandy beach, while out beyond tumbled their dear, familiar breakers. down below the cliff were jagged, brown rocks, over which trailed long, emerald green and brown sea kelp, where the water came in and out with the tides, leaving in the shallow places shoals of little fish, sea anemones, and starfish. through these the gulls would pick their way daintily, with their pink, webbed feet, searching out the barnacles which clung to the rocks, pecking at tiny, sheltering shells where lurked sweet morsels to be had for the cracking.
the busy season came at last, however, and two young gulls had to be fed, so all day long silver wing and his mate foraged and fished for them. they brought young, tender herrings which the small gulls, as they grew older, would swallow at one gulp. occasionally they carried shell-fish to the nest; these they would prepare for the young gulls by dropping them upon the rocks beneath and cracking the shells.
one day the mother gull chanced to be long away. already had silver wing travelled alone, so many times back and forth from the nest to the water with food for the little gulls, that he began to think his mate was trying to leave all the work for him, and he actually grew indignant at the very thought of such an imposition. he resolved to hunt up his lazy mate and make her do her share. with wide, swift strokes of his grey wings he started off, scanning with his sharp eyes every flashing wing to make sure it was not his mate. in vain he flew far and wide, even across to the other beach, more than a mile away; still no trace of her could he find.
finally he began to fly low over the beach, searching in and out among the little coves. at last he heard a shrill cry; plaintive and beseeching, and it belonged to his mate. with great, wide sweeps he soon reached her side. she was down upon the sandy beach and seemed to be fluttering wildly. as silver wing drew near he saw her trouble; she had been caught, and was being firmly held by one foot, by nothing less than a giant clam.
meantime, slowly but surely the tide was coming in; each wave that broke upon shore swirled just a little closer to his trapped mate. soon she must be caught by the tide, and, entrapped as she was, held as if in a vice by the giant shell-fish, she would surely drown.
at first silver wing rose in the air in bewilderment, calling wildly for his mate to join him, beating up and down the beach, hovering over her, then rising high in the air and screaming his commands. still she did not follow him. at last the great gull seemed to have sized up the situation, and like a plummet he fell from the air and began a savage attack upon the hard shell of the clam. with his strong beak he hammered, while his mate continued to beat her wings helplessly upon the sand, screaming wildly.
smash, smash, rang the beak of the gull, while in swirled the creeping tide, each time a little nearer the struggling gulls. it broke now in little foamy ripples close beside them. if the shell-fish failed to loosen its hold, the tide would soon cover them all. down like a chisel came the strong beak of silver wing, while with his great webbed, sinewy feet he held the shell of the clam firmly, delivering his blows now always upon the one spot.
another blow, still another. would the great shell-fish never loosen its grip? another ringing, cracking blow, and just as a larger wave came creeping stealthily inshore and broke over them, the giant clam loosened its awful hold upon the foot of the little mother gull, and the two birds with long, plaintive cries mounted into the free air. dipping low just once over the incoming tide to snatch a herring from the waves in their beaks, away they flew swiftly back to the little gulls, who were impatiently awaiting their coming back upon the lonely ledges, far above the breakers.
