The voice of the seal may be compared to the barking of an angry dog. When young, they have a shrill note, somewhat like the mewing of a cat. Those that are taken early from their dams mew continually, and often die of hunger sooner than take the food that is offered them. They bark at and endeavour to bite those who injure them, and are more of a courageous than timid nature. Instead of being terrified at thunder and lightning, it seems to delight them; they generally come on shore in tempests and storms, and even quit their icy abodes to avoid the shock of the waves; at such times they sport in great numbers along the shore: the tremendous conflict seems to divert, and the heavy rains that fall, to enliven them. They have naturally a disagreeable scent, and which is smelt at a great distance, when there are great numbers together. When pursued they often drop their excrements, which are of a yellow colour, and of a very abominable scent. They have a prodigious quantity of blood, and being also loaded with fat, they are, consequently, very dull and heavy. They usually sleep a great deal, and very sound, and are fond of taking their repose in the sun on flakes of ice, or sides of rocks, and they may be approached very nigh without being disturbed, which is the usual method of taking them. They are very seldom secured with fire-arms, for they do not immediately die, even if shot in the head, but plunge into the sea, and are entirely lost to the hunter; therefore the general method is to surprise them when asleep, or at a distance from the sea, and knock them on the head with clubs. "They are not easily killed, and are a long time dying (says an eye-witness), for although mortally wounded, their blood nearly exhausted, and even stripped of their skins, yet they still continue alive; and indeed it is a shocking sight to see them in this condition wallowing and rolling about in their blood. These remarks were made on an animal we killed, about eight feet long; after it was skinned, and deprived of the greater part of its fat, yet it attempted to bite, notwithstanding they had given him many powerful blows over the head and nose. It even seized a cutlass with as much vigour as if it had not been wounded; after which we pierced it through the heart and liver, from whence as much blood flowed as is contained in a young ox[F]." [Footnote F: Recueil des Voyages du Nord. tom. ii. p. 117, &c.] The hunting, or perhaps, to speak more properly, the fishing of these animals is not very difficult, and is attended with great profit, the flesh being good food, and the skin exceedingly serviceable. The Americans fill them with air, and make a kind of raft, or small boats of them: their fat yields a clear and much sweeter oil than that drawn from the porpoise, or other cetaceous animals.