Because they owned the finest fur known, and because they engaged themselves in hours of grooming their splendid attire, and because they were industrious, predictable feeders, and were trusting, curious, and without guile... their race was slaughtered. Their millions were pressed to the very edge of extinction. The survivors of these plundered southern coastal empires imposed themselves a new order:

Rarely shall we venture ashore...
To rest,
To birth our young, or
To spare ourselves the violent winter mountains of storm driven surf.

The "Swell Riders" are three survivalists who have adapted. A yellowlegs glides easily past them, above the heaving sudsy troughs.

- Thomas Quinn