But most men have a good
deal of the mother in them; and the old bird
had acted with such decision, such courage, such
swift, compelling instinct, that any man, short
of the wildest savage, would have felt his heart
quicken at the sight.
``Just how compelling might that mother-
instinct be?'' I wondered. ``Just how much
would that mother-love stand?'' I had dropped
to my knees, and on all fours had crept up within
about three feet of the bird. She still had chance
for flight. Would she allow me to crawl any
nearer? Slowly, very slowly, I stretched forward
on my hands, like a measuring-worm, until my
body lay flat on the rocks, and my fingers were
within three INCHES of her. But her wings were
twitching, a wild light danced in her eyes, and her
head turned toward the sea.
For a whole minute I did not stir. I was
watching--and the wings again began to tighten about
the babies, the wild light in the eyes died down,
the long, sharp beak turned once more toward me.
Then slowly, very slowly, I raised my hand,
touched her feathers with the tip of one finger--
with two fingers--with my whole hand, while
the loud camera click-clacked, click-clacked
hardly four feet away!
It was a thrilling moment. I was not killing
anything. I had no long-range rifle in my hands,
coming up against the wind toward an unsuspecting
creature hundreds of yards away.
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