Pelicans of the same nest never seem to recover from the mutual enmity with which they begin life. Quarreling is the normal condition of affairs among the children of a Pelican family, and as they always scream loudest when fighting, one cause for the continuous uproar is evident. Another is the question of food, and just at this point I may pause a moment to describe the manner in which the young Pelicans are fed. [Illustration: 108. Young Pelican, downy stage.] So far as I know, Pelicans live wholly on fish, and the difference between the fare of a young Pelican and that of its parent is in the size of its finny food. I have seen fish twelve inches long in the throat of an old Pelican, while the pouch of a very young bird contained several fishes less than an inch in length. It is plain to be seen, therefore, that when an old Pelican goes fishing for his family he must keep constantly in mind the size of his offspring and bring home little fish for little birds, larger fish for larger ones. Immediately after the parent returns from its fishing expedition, the young cluster about it and the outcry begins. But the old one takes it very patiently, sitting quite still until ready to open its creel, as it were. Then he takes a stand if possible a little above the young, drops his lower bill with its pouch, when at once the young thrust in their heads to secure their morning’s catch. On one occasion I saw three half-grown Pelicans with their heads and necks entirely out of sight in the parent’s pouch, and all were prodding about so vigorously that one would have thought it would be damaged past mending. Having been fed, one might suppose that for a time peace would reign in the Pelican household; but, after emptying their parent’s pouch, the young immediately begin to squabble over the contents of their own. Here is real cause for war, and they grasp each other by the bill and twist and turn like athletes in a test of strength, seldom, however, with serious results. [Illustration: 109. Young Pelican, wing quills appearing.] Returning to our sketch of the young Pelican’s growth: shortly after the acquisition of the white down, the wing feathers begin to grow. As yet the sprouting feathers are useless, but with them come strength and courage to leave the nest and to clamber about in search of the foes who perhaps have been mocking him for days, from their nest on an adjoining limb. In spite of his broadly webbed toes, he manages to climb about in the bushes with more or less ease;^{109} but in this climbing he is greatly aided by his bill. Indeed, if it were not for the safety hook made by the bill, head, and neck, many a young Pelican would have a premature tumble. As it is, this hook is often the only thing that saves him if he chances to lose his footing; catching by the bill and neck he hangs for a moment, and then, like a gymnast, hauls himself up by the aid of his toes. [Illustration: 110. Young Pelicans, stage preceding flight.]