Quotes About Seabirds

A male frigate bird blows up a wild red pouch on his neck. He can keep it puffed up for hours. It is his way of impressing the girls.

That is where homeland is. In that shifting space, kinfolk know one another by secret signs; and wherever kinfolk meet, homeland soil coalesces about their feet in the mysterious way that coral cays, like seabirds pausing in flight, anchor themselves to the Barrier Reef.

Over the vast plains of the open ocean, where wave lines may be the only markers, seabirds, including albatrosses, manage to find food.

As sure as the seabirds in flight, As sure as the endless deep blue, My love is as certain as sunrise. I vow it will keep us both true.

On rocky islands gulls woke.

This is the day of wonders. The land is covered with trees like a head with hair and behind the ship the sun rises tipping the top trees with light. The sky is clear and shining as a china plate and the water playfully ruffled with wind. Every wisp of fog is gone and the air is full of the resinous smell of the trees. Seabirds are flashing above the sails golden like creatures from Heaven, but the sailors raise a few shots to keep them from the rigging.

I love puffins. They are small, round gothic birds, and their babies are called pufflings.

It was cold and windy, scarcely the day to take a walk on that long beach Everything was withdrawn as far as possible, indrawn: the tide far out, the ocean shrunken, seabirds in ones or twos. The rackety, icy, offshore wind numbed our faces on one side; disrupted the formation of a lone flight of Canada geese; and blew back the low, inaudible rollers in upright, steely mist.

Jem tugged the floral curtains open just above Mum's bed. She stretched and said, "Oh!" because there is something especially cosy about pulling open floral curtains in your camper van and finding the Mediterranean Sea shining hundreds of feet below you and seabirds twirling all around you. Especially if the kettle has just boiled.

Strong winds buffet the sea oats and tall dune grasses, tossing sand and seabirds where it will, winding my sister's golden hair into sunlit spirals of silk until it becomes the only good memory I have of her -- the only memory I allowed myself to keep.

I am a conscientious man, when I throw rocks at seabirds I leave no tern unstoned.