Its nest is built of seaweed on some rocky cliff or
ledge. As soon as it can scramble out of its nest, the young gull likes
to sit on a ledge of rocks, where it looks like a ball of soft, gray
down. When hundreds of them are seen sitting on the same cliff, it seems
wonderful that the mother birds can find their own children, but they
make no mistake. They are devoted and faithful mothers. Often their
lives are in danger, and they might easily seek safety for themselves,
but they will not leave their helpless birdlings.
The gulls have the same sad story to tell that belongs to all beautiful,
soft-hued birds. They are much less numerous than formerly, because
sportsmen take advantage of the mother's devotion to kill her and steal
her wings. When girls and women consent to wear these feathers in their
hats, they forget the pain and terror of the dying birds. Few girls
would go so far as to kill a bird. Perhaps not one would harm a mother
bird defending her little ones. Yet to wear the soft, pretty wings is to
doom another victim to this piteous death.
WHAT THE LITTLE SEAL THINKS.
I am very lonely and hungry. Here I have been, for days, hidden in a
cave in the rocks, and I do not dare to come out. Only a little while
ago my mother and I were so happy! To lie on the sunny beach, to splash
and swim in the salt sea, to nestle close to her soft, warm fur when I
was cold and tired,--this was my life.
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