Diversions of a NaturalistLankester, E. Ray (Edwin Ray), Sir
History
Diversions of a Naturalist
Lankester, E. Ray (Edwin Ray), Sir
Natural history
But on the following evening, as we sat down to dinner, I heard from
some other visitors at the Wellington Inn, to whom, under pledge of
secrecy, I had confided our discovery, that they had been to Pentargon
Cove to visit our young friend, and found that he had been removed
(probably by his mother) back to the exact spot where we had found
him. They also stated that his presence there had become known in the
village, and that the conviction had been expressed that "the boys"
would certainly go and stone him to death! I had already reproached
myself for going elsewhere that day instead of to Pentargon Cove to
look after my young seal, and now I hastily left my dinner, procured in
the village two men and a potato sack, and hurried to Pentargon Cove.
As we approached the edge of the cliff the sun was setting, and the
cove was very still and suffused with a red glow. Then a weird sound
rent the air, like that made by one in the agonies of sea-sickness.
It was the little seal calling for his mother! It is the habit of the
females of this species to leave the shore during the day when they go
in search of the fish on which they feed, and to return to their young
in the evening, in order to suckle them. I could see, from above, my
baby friend--a little white figure all alone in the deepening gloom
of the great cliffs--raising his head and, by his cries, helplessly
inviting his enemies to come and destroy him. In a few minutes we were
down by his side, had placed him in the potato sack, and brought him to
the upper air. On the way to the inn I purchased a large-sized baby's
bottle with a fine indiarubber teat. We placed the little seal on straw
in a large open packing-case in the stables, whilst the kitchen-maid
warmed some milk and filled the feeding-bottle. Then I brought it to
him, looking down on his broad, white-furred head, with its wonderful
eyes, set so as to throw their appealing gaze upwards. I touched his
nose with the milky indiarubber teat. With unerring precision his lips
closed on it, his nostrils opened and shut in quick succession, and he
had emptied the bottle. I gave him a quart of milk before leaving him
and getting my own belated meal. He slept comfortably, but at four in
the morning his cries rent the air, and threatened to wake every one
in the hotel. I had to get up, descend to the kitchen, warm some more
milk for him, and satisfy his hunger. He became fond of the bottle,
and also of the friend who held it for him. I arranged to take him to
the Zoological Gardens when, after three days, I left Boscastle. He
travelled to London in the guard's van in a specially constructed cage,
and was as beautiful and happy as ever when I handed him over to the
superintendent at Regent's Park.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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