Perspective on Chimney Swift Season 2011

Chimney Swifts. December 2011. Meadowlark 40(10): 4-6. Newsletter of the Audubon Society of Omaha.

Chimney Swifts were around Omaha before the city was just a few shacks and fields west of the Missouri River in the mid-1850s. As the settlement grew, buildings of many sorts were placed upon the land, and the small, darting black bug eaters of the sky took advantage of the chimneys which were an essential construct for each new building.

More was better. There were a myriad of places for the swifts to rest during the breeding season and roost during migrations. Suitable places were used again and again as havens by so many birdly generations.

For the swifts, every year of their presence locally is affected by actions beyond their influence. Bug eaters require a proper chimney, with the extent of suitable places constantly changing, often dramatically, as indicated by the 2011 season.

After arriving in mid-April — providing an exciting notice of spring — swifts were typically seen in the urban skies of the metropolis. Thenceforth they could be readily appreciated, with records of their mighty presence noted during bird surveys of city sites.

As summer waned, groups gathered at their typical roosts in larger chimneys, with prominent eastern Omaha locales known to some extent after ten years of swifting.

Salvation Army Center Oct. 13, 2011

The peak of the season was October 9 and 10 when three roosts — within a mile radius — swarmed with activity. Near 44th and Izard Streets, there were 925 the first evening, 1025 the next morning at the 9.5x9.5 brick chimney at Duchesne, and then the phantasmagoria of circa 1400 at the Blackstone District church the second evening. A second visit to the latter site provided the same dynamo of a display two days later. This is the largest known congregation of swifts ever recorded in Nebraska, based upon 1,835 known records which date to 1899 in Omaha.

A new roost location was found near the end of the season when about 90 swifts dived into the multistory, towering chimney at the Salvation Army facility west of Bemis Park. There was another roost across Cuming Street.

A tragedy of the year occurred in the autumn when an important chimney roost (about 300 used the roost in early October 2009) was blocked. The Dundee Presbyterian Church installed new heating equipment, a vent was placed within the chimney and its entrance was capped. Officials of the church were indifferent to the impact when informed.

At Leavenworth Street and St. Mary’s Avenue, renovation of the Canterbury apartment buildings meant the loss of several chimneys as they were obliterated with the installation of a new roof. Another large chimney was capped when a new vent was installed.

These two instances are symptomatic of the regular, ongoing decline in the extent of chimneys suitable as old structures are modified or razed. There is no new swift habitat being constructed. The decline hampers the lives of the city’s swifts and the visiting migratory flocks.

Swifts were last seen on the evening of October 15 near 49th Avenue and Dodge Street, though the eventual roost for the four birds could not be determined as the birds flew away into the evening’s gloom.

The latest date for swifts in the metro area, based upon 1,221 known records for Douglas and Sarpy Counties, is October 21, 2009 when nine were noted early in the morning near Criss Library on the UNO campus.

Diary of the Brownville Buffalo Hunters

Brownville, Neb., Jan. 10, '71.

This morning seven wagons and fifteen men of us start for a general hunt on the Republican and Soloman [Solomon] rivers. We made the city of Tecumseh the first day, all in good spirits, the weather being very mild and pleasant.

Jan. 11.— Rolled out of camp bright and early, and traveled to the third crossing of Yankee Creek, and, taking dinner there, we traveled on to the city of Beatrice, situated on the Big Blue, and camped for the night. The weather began to get colder in the night and near morning, it began to snow and kept increasing, so we concluded to lay by that day. We spent the day in getting up wood and making fires. There were six rabbits and several quail killed while in this camp.

Jan. 13.— Got up and had our breakfast so as to start by daylight. It was a very disagreeable day to travel, the snow blowing and drifting so that it made it hard on our teams, we finally reached the Little Sandy a small stream running into the Little Blue river, not stopping at noon to feed. We had plenty of wood, so we had a good comfortable fire.

Jan. 14.— We drove out of camp bright and early, crossed Big Sandy, a very pretty little stream running in to the Blue river. We then drove about three miles and passed through the thriving little village of Meridian, situated on the Little Blue river. We then traveled fifteen miles and crossed the Little Blue at Hebron. We then traveled about four miles and camped on Springs Creek. On going into camp Samuel Summers killed a fine wild turkey, which we had for supper.

Jan. 15.— Got up at 4 o'clock and eat our breakfast and started as soon as it was light. Three of the boys, Wm. Morris, Nate Westfall and Capt. Starry, followed up the stream and succeeded in killing three wild Turkeys and some other small game. We then traveled until we came to a small stream by the name of Oak Creek, where two of our party had a battle on our fall hunt, about some misunderstanding. We celebrated the event by a speech delivered by the Rev. Mr. Brookens, a colored gent who was along with our party.

Jan. 16.— We rolled out of camp early and traveled up the Republican river all day. We passed two stockades on the river, about twelve miles apart; there were eight or ten families at each of them. We also passed several hunting parties going home with fine loads of game. They reported game a good ways off. We drove into camp on the Republican river about 4 o'clock. Upon making fire it caught in the grass and came very near getting the start of us. It raised quite an excitement in camp, and there was some lively kicking and stamping of fire there for some time. We finally succeeded in extinguishing the fire, and prepared our evening repast.

Jan 17.— Got under way about 7 o'clock, and drove four miles and tried to cross the river, but did not succeed, the ice not being solid enough to bear our teams. We then drove about ten miles and then unhitched our teams and drew our wagons across by hand. We then drove up the river five or six miles. We found a small gang of turkeys, on driving to camp and killed five. Wm. Moore, Capt. Starry, John Summers and H. C. Baker brought down one each. We seen several deer but did not get a shot.

Jan. 18.— Traveled all day on the dividing ridge between the Republican and Soloman river. Did not stop for dinner. We met several hunting parties, who reported game very scarce unless we would go a long ways. We pitched camp about four o'clock on one of the tributaries of White Rock; wood and water plenty. Capt. Starry killed three turkeys; John Summers and H.C. Baker killed one grouse each.

Jan. 19.— We kept on the divide all day not stopping for dinner. Seen some pretty fresh signs of Buffalo, but seen none of the beasts themselves. Sam. Summers, Capt. Starry and Hugh Baker started out on their ponies hunting, but seen no game except a gang of turkeys, or which they killed four. Camped on a small stream running into the Soloman, about ten miles west of what is called the Hay Stack Mound, a very high hill that can be seen some twenty-five or thirty miles off.

Jan. 20.— Drove out of camp early. Three of the boys, Capt. Starry, Sam. Summers and John Crook rode out on horseback prospecting for game. About noon one of them came to the teams, reporting a herd of buffalo off about three miles. We drove to a suitable place and stopped, unhitched and prepared to make chase. In the mean time we spied, as we supposed, a much larger herd than the first. So the Captain gave orders to hitch up again and drive for the larger herd, about two miles distant. Some of the boys that had never seen buffalo were very anxious to get after them; so much so that they rode a good ways ahead. Just as we were coming out of a draw on higher ground, so we could have a better view of the them, they proved to be a band of Red Skins, numbering about one hundred, with their ponies loaded with buffalo meat, and on the travel. It was amusing to see how quick the boys that were on ahead stopped, when the cry of Indians was raised. We did not make chase after them, that was not the kind of game we wanted to meet. We wheeled around and made chase after the buffalo that we had first seen. After getting as close as we could conveniently with our wagon, we stepped and eight or nine of us started after them; four were mounted; we found we could not get close enough on foot, as they were moving, so the horsemen started on the chase. They run them about a mile and finally got them turned about, and here they came. John Summers, H.C. Baker, John Crook and Hugh Baker started to head them off and stayed down flat on the ground, near where they supposed the buffalo would pass. Capt. Starry separated two from the herd, and drove them toward the footmen and here came the Captain on a the full run with his long hair flying in the air, driving the buffalo in front and heading them straight for the footmen. When about-twenty yards off H.C. Baker and John Summers fired, succeeding in bringing one of them down, and Capt. Starry killed the other one. James Coons also killed one. Several others were crippled but got away. We then dressed our game and drove into camp on the Middle Fork of Soloman. Some small game was also killed.

Jan. 21.— Left camp about half past seven o'clock and traveled five or six miles when we spied a herd of buffalo off about three miles. After driving down and camping on the South Fork of Soloman, seven of the boys mounted and gave chase; while the horsemen were chasing the first herd. Geo. Peabody and H.C. Baker started off on foot and after going four or five miles they found a herd feeding quietly, and crept up on them and fired. H.C. Baker killed a fine cow. Peabody wounded one but did not get it. The horsemen killed eight. Capt. Starry, killed four, Sam. Summers two, and Nate Westfall two. H.C. Baker also killed a jackrabbit.

Jan. 22.— Laid over all day and all have been hunting. John. Summers, H.C. Baker and Geo. Peabody killed one buffalo; John Crook killed one; Capt. Starry, Sam. Summers and Hugh Baker each killed one. They then rode to camp, took two teams and hauled their game into camp.

Jan. 23.— Laid over all day and run buffalo Sam. Summers killed two, Capt. Starry five, and John Crook three, John Gelphart, Wm. Morris each killed. one. They reported large herds of buffalo south of our camp, about ten miles.

Jan. 24.— Got up early and loaded our meat, drove about ten miles and camped on the same stream we left in the morning; killed no game except a couple of prairie dogs.

Jan. 25.— Got up in the morning and found it snowing, it continued until about four o'clock; the snow was about four inches deep on a level. Mr. Brookens, our colored gent amused us most of the day with songs and dances. Hugh Baker and John Crook killed one buffalo. Some grouse were also killed. We decided to start homeward the next day thinking we could finish loading our teams on the road back.

Jan. 26.— Rolled out of camp bright and early; had a very pleasant day after the storm; drove about five miles and Capt. Starry halted the train, he had seen a small herd of buffalo; in company with Sam. Summers and Nate Westfall, he started after them. Westfall and Starry each killed one; they then came to the teams and H.C. Baker took a pony and started down through the breaks, and succeeded in killing one buffalo. After strapping the quarters on the pony he started for the train and found it in camp on a beautiful little stream running into the Republican river, on the south side, by the name of Prairie Dog; wood and water plenty. The timber consists of cottonwood, elm, ash, and also some cedar.

Jan. 27.— We concluded to lay by and hunt turkey, as there were plenty of fresh signs, and we had not killed many. The boys all got ready and started out, except H.C. Baker, he could not go on account of having a lame foot. They had good luck. Samuel Summers killed eight, Capt. Starry nine, John Crook four, James Coons three, John Summers five, Wm. Morris five, Hugh Baker six, Westfall, jr. three, Geo. Peabody went out after buffalo, and killed one and brought it into camp on his horse. When they all got in and gathered around the camp fire the Captain left it to a vote whether we would stay there another day or not. As game was plenty in that vicinity, all voted for staying. So every fellow went to work cleaning and getting his gun in order.

Jan. 28.— All hands that were going hunting rolled out by sun rise. Several turkeys were killed. John Crook went buffalo hunting and killed two.

Jan. 29.— Got under way early. The weather was fair until about eight o'clock, when a heavy fog came up making it very hard for us to keep our course. We lost our course several times and had to turn back, but we finally got straightened up all right. Seen one herd of Buffalo. Starry and Morris gave chase. The teams moved on and went into camp again on Prairie Dog. Starry and Morris got in about eight o'clock at night with three horses packed with buffalo meat. They each killed one.

Jan. 30.— We drove down Prairie Dog until noon, then we fed our teams and, drove to the divide between Prairie Dog and Soloman; we kept on that until camping time, then drove to a small stream that flows into the Soloman and camped; water plenty but wood scarce. Capt. Starry killed wild turkeys.

Jan. 31.— Drove on the divide all day. Seen about two hundred buffalo but did not give chase; also seen some elk but did not get any. Camped on a tributary of Prairie Dog; wood plenty but water very bad. Capt. Starry killed three turkeys, and Nate Westfall killed a Porcupine.

Feb. 1.— Rolled out of camp bright and early; drove on the divide all day, not stopping for dinner. Starry and Coons killed one buffalo and three turkeys. Camped at the head of White Rock; wood and water plenty.

Feb. 2.— Traveled the divide all day again. The wind blew very hard making it disagreeable traveling. We struck the Republican river about six miles above the upper stockade and camped. Captain Starry killed three turkey.

Feb. 3.— Got up early and crossed the river. One of the party broke the coupling pole of his wagon, which delayed us about half and hour. We then started down the river, passing the two stockades, camped on Beaver Creek; wood and water in abundance.

Feb. 4.— Rolled out of camp and traveled until about nine o'clock, when we spied a herd of elk. We drove down to the river and unhitched and prepared to give chase. Sam. Summers, Nate Westfall, John Crook, James Coons, John Clark, Wm. Morris and Capt. Starry then mounted and chased them about ten miles, succeeding in killing nine. They came to camp, and drove out and got them. Then we drove about five mile to Oak Creek, and camped for the night.

Feb. 5.— Rolled out of camp before daylight; traveled until about four o'clock, when we reached the Little Blue river at Hebron. We crossed and camped; wood not very plenty. Coons killed one elk and brought the hams to camp.

Feb. 6.— Traveled all day, passing through Meridian; stopped on Big Sandy for dinner. We then drove to Little Sandy and camped.

Feb. 7.— Drove out of camp before daylight; reached the city of Beatrice stopped there a few minutes, then drove to Bear Creek, five miles from there and camped; wood very scarce.

Feb. 8.— Got up in the morning and found it snowing; we rolled out however, and drove across an eighteen mile ridge suffering considerably with the cold and eat our dinners and fed our teams. We then drove to the last crossing of Yankee Creek, and camped close to the Wild Irishman's. By night it cleared up nice, but was very cold. While we were getting supper, the Irishman came to camp and talked a while, wanting us to come and stay in his house, we declined his offer on account of having our supper most ready, and had our teams fed. He saw that we were pretty short of wood and told us if some of us would go with him he would give us some wood, three of the boys went along, he gave them all they could carry, after they had got to camp, we heard a wagon coming, some one remarked that there was a team out pretty late, he drove up to our camp and stopped, and behold it was the Irishman with a load of wood and hay, it was very acceptable. We acknowledged it by giving him several nice pieces of buffalo meat and a turkey. He certainly was a gentleman in every respect. We can recommend him to any one traveling that way as a gentleman, that has a good place to stop at.

Feb. 9.— Traveled all day hard, and passed through the city of Tecumseh and made home about eight o'clock at night, tired and hungry. The total amount of game killed was 40 buffalo, 10 elk, 105 wild turkey, 3 jack rabbits, 3 porcupines, and a number of grouse.

Anonymous. February 23, 1871. The diary of the Brownville buffalo hunters. Nebraska Advertiser 15(19): 1.

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.

Addition to Article Archive for Nebraska Birds

Another appropriate article has been submitted for addition to the Birds of Nebraska archive provided by the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.

The lengthy article an account of a club hunt by the Lincoln County Sportsmen's Club on September 1, 1886. Shootists of the city were looking forward to the event when they would go afield to take what game they might find between Brady Island and O'Fallons, northward of the Platte River.

The article — titled "Slaughter of the Innocents" — included the tally of the sorts of "game" taken, including hawks, ducks, plover, chickens (prairie grouse), doves and rabbits, with an overall count based upon the points for each animal. The team with the most points were the declared winners.

After the time afield, the day continued with sumptuous eating at the Hinman House in North Platte. "The repast was a notable one and reflected credit upon the management of the house as well as the culinary artist under whose supervision it was prepared. Several of those who participated in the sport were too tired to wait for supper, but when gorging himself with delicious prairie chicken the reported noticed the following hunters and guests" the article said. A list of those present followed.

It was "a gay time on the field of carnage and jokes will be told of each other for several days to come."

This article is number 1010 for the Birds of Nebraska archive, originally started several years ago with my contribution of hundreds of transcribed and web-ready articles to the University so the information could be readily provided for anyone with an interest. These articles are from 1856 through 1923, with more than 850 from newspapers of the period. Following the first contribution of files prepared because of a personal interest in the subject - and without payment of any sort - a second bunch of files was then submitted and added. Since then, a few articles have been subsequently found and as they fit the subject, web suitable files were sent to University archives. The most recent additions were in December 2008 and 2009.

There is a plethora of details for the history of ornithology in Nebraska conveyed by these articles which are well presented by the site developed by archival staff at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.

Each bird occurrence record mentioned by each of these articles has been entered into a personally maintained database, with all the advantages available through this interactive means of data management. There is no online source for the specific details.

Dude of the Swamp and Duck Hunting at Church Lake

Church Lake has always been a famous place for shooting. The haunt of ducks, snipe and geese as they pass up or down the Jordan in search of fresh feeding grounds. Many are the times that the usual quiet of the fields has been disturbed by those who seek this place to waste ammunition and sleep.

True, it is exciting to lie on the grassy shores or in the rushes and absorb the dew drops as they nestle in each leaf, awaiting the magical warmth of the sun to vaporize them. To hopefully listen for the whir which tells of the approach of the coveted game. To cuss the mud-hens as they noiselessly approach your hiding place and as they appear to your view, almost betray you into taking a shot. To sit and enjoy a pipe, listen to your friend on the opposite shore firing away, hear the splash or thud which awakens visions of roast duck and then relapse into a quiet mood and wonder if the horse has slipped his halter and is quietly loping up the road to the city. Some of the fellows go down and in two, or three hours return with "a few," as they call a dozen. Then some amateur goes to Evans & Spencer, hires a gun, buys some shells, and in company with a friend, starts for the lake.

To hear them talk, why it makes the horse tired to think of the load he must return with. A— and B—., the heroes of the last shooting affair at the lake, are young men well known up town, the former being a skilled shoer of horses, the latter a manipulator of calf skin, under Colonel Rowe.

On Thursday, the 20th last, these jolly hunters started for Church Lake, bent upon having a night's shooting. The grey mare stepped out briskly down the road and in an hour the party had arrived on the ground. After unhitching and tying the stepper to the fence, they cautiously approached the most likely portion of the lake and betook themselves to thinking of the glorious time they would have. The moon played hide and seek with the stars behind the clouds for a while, and then broke forth, shedding her mellow light upon the water and the meadow, and each blade of grass seemed fresh and green. Not so with the game which they sought. They flew high and were not so frequent as they wished.

The Dude of the swamps - the mud hen - was discussed at last, and the conclusion arrived at was as a Dude, the mud-hen is a complete success, being entirely useless. Thus an hour or more was spent and then their thoughts turned to the beautiful gray, which they had securely tied to a fence post. A— raised up and looked in the direction of the buggy, but no gray could he see. "The mare is loose," to B—. They walked out some distance but could not see anything of the brute. They walked on, and finally saw a white object testing the fence for the lowest portion. As the boys approached, the lowest portion was found, and over she went at a bound. The hunters broke into a run and soon had the equine corralled in the corner of the paddock. Horses, as a rule, go blind when they get loose, for they will not approach nor be approached by those whom they most willingly obey. This one was no exception to the rule, and over the fence she went. The duck shooters, now bare-headed, went tearing after her. As the first appearance of dawn came down over the valley, two bare-headed gentlemen might have been seen alternately chasing and coaxing with outstretched hands, the gray mare, which cantered up the lane and as she turned into the State road, switcher her tail and seemed to say, "Fare ye well, Brother Watkins, ah." It was farewell, for the horse came up to Jackson's gate and seemed to smile when A—'s father let her into the yard. Two hunters walked up, arriving in town about 10 o'clock. B— had the head of one snipe dangling from his belt, the cooking part having been lost in the mad chase after the mare. This was all they had to show for their night's shooting.

Gid. September 23, 1883. Duck Hunting. And Horse Following as Well. Salt Lake Herald 14(94): 2.

Mud Hens, Musical Cranes and Hunting Cranks

Mud Hens! How a Festive M.H. Slayer Would Deceive.

Musical Cranes and Hunting Cranks.

Salt Lake City, Sept. 9, '82.

Shooting at ducks often proves but a disappointment.  Four brave hunters left town late on the night of the 4th inst., for a night's sport at Church Lake. There did not exist a doubt in their minds as to the result of the shoot. After a few hours sleep the hunters of the party were up and persuasively asking the indifferent ones if they were not going out to get some ducks. Finally the whole party were starting for the marshy shores of the lake, the alleged haunt of innumerable ducks, the abiding place of the musical mud hens and the wandering crane. Not until the depths of several post holes had been explored and the efforts thereunto belonging had been partially recovered from did ye hunters awake to a sense of the many and varied responsibilities resting upon them as sportsmen. As they grey dawn came from behind the mountains and stole over the valley the darkness became less frequent, and the most unassuming stakes and bunches of grass became mallards or teal, just as the beholders imagination inclined. Some kind hand placed those stakes there little dreaming that they would prove so attractive, or cause many an old sportsman to drop to the ground and crawl noiselessly through the wet grass until within range, and then empty both barrels of his fine Parker gun into an old fence pole, thinking he has a sitting shot at a line of ducks. Any attempt to explain would have been lost on the rest of the boys, so we all took beer. The party now worked an example in grand division, and each one took such a position as he deemed best, and on the sparkling dew drops we sat down to wait for the victims. On a quiet Sabbath morning, seated upon the unmown hay, wet with penetrating dew, such pleasant thoughts come to one's mind, as he dozes a little and wakes with a start, thinking he hears the whir of flying birds, only to see a convention of mosquitoes. A feeling of restful restlessness comes into the heart and goes out to the hand, suspended for a moment preparatory to coming down upon the interesting family of acrobats having a picnic on your right cheek. Everything around is so calm, quiet and serene that any demonstration on the part of the sufferer would seem sacrilegious. Soon, however, the delightful stillness was smashed by the report of a gun, and each one was on the alert lest he should miss a good shot. Of course we all expected that some of the party had brought down a brace of ducks. In this we were disappointed. The cause of the sudden report was that one of the party had cautiously approached a bird which he claims was a duck, but which afterward proved to be a mud hen. There can be no harm in killing a mud hen, but when one mistakes a musical m.h. for a duck, and then tries to convince his friends that the m.h. is a duck, it is wrong. Not satisfied with this, he further attempts to yank the clothing of the unshorn lamb over the eyes of his friends by hiring Phil, to get one of our ducks out of the wagon, and take it to the point where he killed the bird and then bring our duck to the house in triumph. This also is wrong, teaching the youthful mind to deceive, and not only teaching but prefacing the lesson with a dollar piece.

The ducks were not out early, had perhaps been up late at Buhring's the night before. We did not kill many ducks, but the party promptly assisted in putting away several which "Ort" had killed the evening previous. After a delightful breakfast prepared by "Aunt" Margaret, some went for a nap, while others went for a ride. The out was pleasant, not only for us, but for the ducks. The sand hill cranes tuned their harps and gave vent to their appreciation in a series of dont-care-if-you-die-I-am-going to sing sort of notes, and we gracefully submitted. The next time we go out after ducks we will buy a flock of tame ducks and be sure that there are none that can fly.

Thoughtfully we left our guns to be brought up by a team, and rode into town, wet, muddy, and tired, but none the less grateful to our friends at the farm, who did so much to make our stay pleasant; and the chances are we will take another trip when the birds begin to migrate to the southward.

Gib. September 10, 1882. Salt Lake Daily Herald 13(84): 12.