Gulls Salvation for Salt Lake Settlers

By St. Croix.

There is no biped for which the old farmer of this country has more genuine affection than for the utterly valueless — in a marketable sense — sea gull. This rather pretty bird was quite abundant in this valley the present year — in fact, it is stated that only once before were there so many. In the fields a few miles below the city, a week or two ago, thousands of them could be seen. They followed the plowman along the furrow, and were almost as tame as chickens. Wherever there was a newly-plowed field, there you could see the gull, and as fast as a furrow was turned up the birds would fly behind the plowman and commence devouring the insects which were thus exposed to sight. They seemed perfectly fearless. And they have good reason to be fearless here, for the farmer looks upon them as his friend, and they seem to understand fully that he holds them in that light. They fly all about him, within two or three feet, and while perhaps unwilling to submit to being caught, they will allow any other familiarity that can be practiced, for they themselves take a great many good-natured liberties. They will not touch grain, or anything that the farmer desires should remain untouched; they only eat the worms and insects which are injurious to the soil and to crops. Years ago a law was passed making it an offense to kill one of these birds. The law is probably yet on the statute books, but is literally a dead letter, because there has been no occasion to call the law into life. A farmer — in fact any person acquainted with the habits of the sea gull — would almost think of wantonly killing one of his own chickens, as of intentionally harming one of these queer birds. As before stated, a law was passed by the legislature making it an offense to kill a sea gull; it was passed for this reason:

In the second year after the Pioneers had arrived here — in 1848 — the large black crickets, common to these mountainous regions, made their appearance in this and some other valleys, in clouds — figuratively speaking. They did not fly; but came hopping down the mountain sides in myriads. So vast were their numbers the mountains were black and seemed literally alive with the great, big, black, ugly things, each one about the size of a large man's thumb. It was at a time when the crops were promising; everything looked green; the future outlook seemed bright; and the heart of the sun-burned and toil-worn pioneer grew lighter s the prospects of a plentiful harvest and greater comforts grew more and more tangible with each day's growth of the healthy grain. But blacker than the clouds of coal black crickets, which came hopping down the mountain slopes in countless numbers, leaving barrenness and desolation in their wake, were the clouds of despair which filled the heart of the weary husbandman as this new and unlooked-for curse came slowly but surely towards the pride, the joy and the promise of the early settler — his fields of waving corn and grain. the foe was utterly unconquerable so far as human as human efforts were concerned; there was nothing the heartsick farmer could do but stand idly by and see the labors of the season destroyed; and with it, the death of the bright hopes which had seemed so near a realization but a few hours before. On came the foe! and as it approached, came also a vague sense of the almost illimitable distance between the farmer and a mart where could be obtained seed with which to lay the foundation for another harvest; for all he had was barely enough on which to subsist till the grain could be reaped; and as he thought of this, he thought of the long and severe winter to follow, which became terrible now, since, to the intense cold, would be added the insatiable pangs of hunger. Were it men alone who would suffer, he could bear it; but to think of the children who must yearn for bread which could not be given them; of the mother, whose babe would be folded to a breast that could afford no nourishment. It was indeed terrible! And yet, but a few hours before, what a glorious prospect was laid out! Still the foe came on. The green fields were reached, the work of destruction had commenced. Children gazed with wonder and terror; women looked with eyes full of tears, and strong men watched with hearts of despair. It was an awful hour. But lo! a wonder! The sky is filled with large birds; they fly towards the scene of the disaster, and they alight in the same fields where the crickets hold supreme sway. Then comes a change. At once the flocks of birds begin to eat the crickets. From morn till night they continue, never ceasing. When filled until they can hold no more, they vomit up the black mass, and again commence to eat the crickets. This is kept up day after day until not one of the devouring host is seen; the crops are saved; and the birds fly away. This bird was the one which could recently be seen in the fields, and which was then more abundant than at any time since the event above mentioned.

Whether the hand of an All-wise Providence was in it or not, it was not surprising nor unreasonable that the pioneers should think so; that they should return thanks to God for his succor, and that forever after the sea-gull should be looked upon by the farmer as a dear friend to be protected and encouraged. It was the sea gull that befriended the pioneer — the pioneer who suffered and endured so much, and whose suffering and endurance has made this place so that it can be inhabited, so that it furnishes a peaceful and a prosperous home to many a vile ingrate, whose thanks are shown in falsehoods and lies, in blaspheming and in blackguarding the pioneer and his offspring.

St. Croix. May 25, 1882. Sea gulls. Salt Lake Daily Herald 12(301): 10.

Gull Recollections Along Shore of Great Salt Lake

For the Editor:

During one of my voyages on our glorious inland sea the past summer, it was my good fortune to gain a little information regarding one of the most useful, and probably the least appreciated, of our feathery tribe — the sea gull.

Probably no other member of the animal creation has figured so prominently in the early history of the settlement of this valley. Many a one will recollect that momentous period in the history of the early settlers, when the grain bins were empty and the population — men women and children — were for days fighting the ever-advancing crickets, (whose numbers were so over-whelming) devouring field after field of the growing crops; and when all efforts had failed to check the advance — starvation staring the people in the face, and the stoutest heart had given up, behold their salvation. These noble birds came in countless numbers, made war upon the crickets, and followed them even into the door yards. Thus the destroyer is himself destroyed and the crops are saved, and he colonization of the Great American Desert is made possible. It is well then that we should get better acquainted with our friends, the gulls.

It is the belief of many that these birds are not natives here. But such is not the case.

It may here be asked that, while the gull appears to be anything but a shy bird, in fact pays but little regard to the presence of man, and while in quest of food will alight within a few feet of the plowman; how many are there that have seen their nesting places? I will venture to say that there are no birds more particular upon this point. They will not lay where man can molest them, but far away on some lonely beach, or sand bar, where man's foot has possibly never trod, they will establish. They build no nests, simply scratch a hole in the sand; do not conceal the eggs, but leave them exposed to the weather and the rays of the sun. Like most sea fowl they go in colonies. While sailing between Stansbury and Carrington Islands, my attention was called to constant flocks of these birds flying low over the water, general direction east and west. Their rapid flight indicated business of importance. We decided that their nesting places must be somewhere west of us and that they were going east for food to feed their young. That evening we anchored in a beautiful bay on Carrington Island. Early next morning, while the cook was wrestling with the frying-pan and coffee-pot, I determined to explore. From the south-west shore of the island, I found a low sand bar extending out into Lake; this I followed. It was quite narrow, sometimes not over three feet wide, and not over six inches above low water mark at the highest point. After following this possibly two miles, the gulls became very numerous, their discordant cries were deafening. They would swoop down close to my head as though determined to attack and expel the intruder from their sacred domain. Upon the very end of this reef was a sand knoll, which was probably at the highest part three feet above the lake, and this desolate place the birds had selected for their nesting ground. It was literally covered with nests; upon the highest point was a few dead greasewood roots; this seemed to be the favorite spot for the roots afforded some little shelter, and prevented the shifting of the sand in the wind; it was impossible to walk across this without stepping on some nest, if such they might be called. But what desolation! Not a straw, not a weed, not even a twig — nothing but the shifting sand, and the litter of the birds. This spot must be fifty miles west of the base of food supply, and probably thousands of birds have been reared on it during the past summer. What patient toiling on the part of the parent birds in finding supplies, and what millions of grasshoppers, crickets and beetles must have been consumed.

One peculiar feature of the bird is its capacity to disgorge the contents of its crop, or outer-stomach, at will. This makes his capacity as a destroyer of vermin unlimited, and keeps his appetite always good. He will eat as long as food remains in sight. It also helps him to carry food a long distance to the young, for he can gather the grasshoppers in our fields, and after carrying them for miles, disgorge at his pleasure.

I selected a nice specimen full size, but not yet able to fly, who in order to hide himself had stuck his bill in the sand and covered up his eyes and thought himself secure.

I trudged painfully back through the wet sand, just in time to catch a gale from the cook for keeping breakfast waiting and spoiling his coffee.

Royer.

Salt Lake City, Feb. 13, 1885.

Royer. February 15, 1885. The gulls. Some facts about our feathered friends. Recollections of a rover. A morning's experience along the shores of the Great Salt Lake - a sailor's story. Salt Lake Herald 15(215): 1.