tiny legs appeared from under its skin, the gills
gave place to air-breathing lungs, and the infant lips to a great,
gaping mouth. Now, during this "temporary alteration of the premises"
all business was of necessity stopped. The half-fish, half-frog could
neither sup like an infant nor eat like a man. In this extremity it fed
on its own tail--absorbed it as a camel is said to absorb its hump when
travelling in the foodless desert--and so it entered on its new life
without one.

Aeronautics have changed the whole perspective of life for birds, as
they may for us shortly; so it is no surprise to find that birds have,
almost with one consent, converted their tails into steering-gear. A
commonplace bird, like a sparrow, scarcely requires this except as a
brake when in the act of alighting; but to those birds with which flight
is an art and an accomplishment, an expansive forked or rounded tail
(there are two patents) is indispensable. We have shot almost all the
birds of this sort in our own country, and must travel if we would enjoy
that enchanting sight--a pair of eagles or a party of kites gone aloft
for a sail when the wind is rising, like skaters to a pond when the ice
is bearing. For an hour on end, in restful ease or swift joy, they trace
ever-varying circles and spirals against the dark storm-cloud, now
rising, now falling, turning and reversing, but never once flapping
their widespread pinions.

How is it done? How does the _Shamrock_ sail? Watch, and you will see.
When the wind is behind, each stiff quill at the end of the wing stands
out by itself and is caught and driven by the blast; but as the bird
turns round to face the gale, they all close up and form a continuous
mainsail, close-hauled. And all the while the expanded tail is in play,
dipping first at one side and then at the other, and turning the trim
craft with easy grace "as the governor listeth."

[Illustration: THERE ARE SOME ECCENTRICS, SUCH AS JENNY WREN, WHICH HAVE
DESPISED THEIR TAILS.]

Besides ground birds, like the quail, there are some eccentrics, such as
Jenny wren, which have despised their tails, and there are specialists
also which require them for other purposes than flying. The woodpecker's
tail is quite useless as a rudder, for he is a woodman and has altered
and adapted it for a portable stool to rest against as he plies his axe.

But that man must be very blind to the place which birds have taken in
the progress of civilisation