The Audubon Reader (67 page)

August 28
. I can now say that I have seen the tidewaters of the
Bay of Fundy rise sixty-five feet. We were seated on one of the wharves and saw the mass of water accumulating with a rapidity I cannot describe. At half flow the water rose three feet in ten minutes, but it is even more rapid than this. A few minutes after its greatest height is attained it begins to recede, and in a few hours the whole bed of the river is again emptied. We rambled over the beautiful meadows and fields and John shot two
Marsh Hawks, one of each sex, and we saw many more. These birds here are much darker above and much deeper rufus below than any I ever procured in the Middle States or farther south. Indeed, it may be said that the farther north I have been, the deeper in tint have I found the birds. The steamboat has just arrived and the young men have been on board to secure our passage. No news from the States.

Eastport, Maine, August 31
. We arrived here yesterday afternoon in the steamer
Maid of the Mist
. We left Windsor shortly before twelve noon and reached St. John’s, New Brunswick, at two o’clock at night. Passed Cape Blow-me-down, Cape Split and Cape d’Or. We were very comfortable, as there were few passengers, but the price was sufficient for all we had, and more. We perambulated the streets of St. John’s by moonlight and when the shops opened I purchased two suits of excellent stuff for shooting garments. At the wharf just as the steamer was about to leave I had the great pleasure of meeting my most excellent friend
Edward Harris, who gave me a letter from thee and the first intelligence from the big world we have left for two months. Here we were kindly received by all our acquaintances; our trunks were not opened and the new
clothes paid no duties; this ought to be the case with poor students of nature all over the world. We gave up the
Ripley
to Messrs. Buck and Tinkham, took up our quarters with good Mr. Weston and all began packing immediately.

We reached New York on Saturday morning, the 7th of September, and thank God found all well. Whilst at Boston I wrote several letters, one very long one to Thomas Nuttall, in which I gave him some account of the habits of water birds with which he was unacquainted; he sent me an extremely kind letter in answer.

High in the thin, keen air, far above the rugged crags of the desolate shores of Labrador, proudly sails the tyrant Gull, floating along on almost motionless wing like an eagle in his calm and majestic flight. On widely extended pinions, he moves in large circles, constantly eyeing the objects below. Harsh and loud are his cries, and with no pleasant feeling do they come on the winged multitudes below. Now onward he sweeps, passes over each rocky bay, visits the little islands and shoots off towards the mossy heaths, attracted perhaps by the notes of the Grouse or some other birds. As he flies over each estuary, lake or pool, the breeding birds prepare to defend their unfledged broods or ensure their escape from the powerful beak of their remorseless spoiler. Even the shoals of the finny tribes sink deeper into the waters as he approaches; the young birds become silent in their nests or seek for safety in the clefts of the rocks; the
Guillemots and
Gannets dread to look up, and the other Gulls, unable to cope with the destroyer, give way as he advances. Far off among the rolling billows he spies the carcass of some monster of the deep and, on steady wing, glides off towards it. Alighting on the huge whale, he throws upwards his head, opens his bill and, louder and fiercer than ever, sends his cries through the air. Leisurely he walks over the putrid mass, and now, assured that all is safe, he tears, tugs, and swallows piece after piece, until he is crammed to the throat, when he lays himself down surfeited and exhausted to rest for a while in the feeble sheen of the northern sun. Great, however, are the powers of his stomach, and before long the half-putrid
food which, vulture-like, he has devoured, is digested. Like all gluttons, he loves variety, and away he flies to some well-known isle, where thousands of young birds or eggs are to be found. There, without remorse, he breaks the shells, swallows their contents and begins leisurely to devour the helpless young. Neither the cries of the parents nor all their attempts to drive the plunderer away can induce him to desist until he has again satisfied his ever-craving appetite. But although tyrannical, the Great Gull is a coward, and meanly does he sneak off when he sees the
Skua fly up which, smaller as it is, yet evinces a thoughtless intrepidity that strikes the ravenous and merciless bird with terror.

If we compare this species with some other of its tribe, and mark its great size, its powerful flight and its robust constitution, we cannot but wonder to find its range so limited during the breeding season. Few individuals are to be found northward of the entrance into Baffin’s Bay, and rarely are they met with beyond this, as no mention is made of them by Dr. Richardson in the
Fauna Boreali-Americana
. Along our coast, none breed farther south than the eastern extremity of Maine. The western shores of Labrador along an extent of about three hundred miles afford the stations to which this species resorts during spring and summer; there it is abundant, and there it was that I studied its habits.

The farthest limits of the winter
migrations of the young, so far as I have observed, are the middle portions of the eastern coast of the Floridas. While at St. Augustine in the winter of 1831 I saw several pairs keeping company with the young Brown Pelican, more as a matter of interest than of friendship, as they frequently chased them as if to force them to disgorge a portion of their earnings, acting much in the same manner as the
Lestris
[
Jager] does towards the smaller Gulls, but without any effect. They were extremely shy, alighted only on the outer edges of the outer sandbars and could not be approached, as they regularly walked off before my party the moment any of us moved towards them until, reaching the last projecting point, they flew off, and never stopped until out of sight. At what period they left that coast I am unable to say. Some are seen scattered along our seashores, from the Floridas to the Middle States, there being but few old birds among them; but the species does not become abundant until beyond the eastern extremities of Connecticut and Long Island, when their number greatly increases the farther you proceed. On the whole of that extensive range these birds are very shy and wary, and those which are procured are merely “chance shots.” They seldom advance far up the bays unless forced to do so by severe weather or heavy gales; and although I have seen this bird on our Great Lakes, I do not remember having ever observed an individual on any of our eastern rivers, at a distance from the sea, whereas the
Larus argentatus
[Herring Gull] is frequently found in such places.

Towards the commencement of summer, these wandering birds are seen abandoning the waters of the ocean to tarry for a while
on the wild shores of Labrador, dreary and desolate to man but to them delightful as affording all that they can desire. One by one they arrive, the older individuals first. As they view from afar the land of their birth, that moment they emit their loud cries with all the joy a traveler feels when approaching his loved home. The males sooner or later fall in with the females of their choice, and together they proceed to some secluded sandbar, where they fill the air with their furious laughs until the rocks echo again. Should the student of nature happen to be a distant spectator of these meetings, he too must have much enjoyment. Each male bows, moves around his mate, and no doubt discloses to her the ardor of his love. Matters are managed to the satisfaction of all parties, yet day after day for awhile, at the retreat of the waters, they meet as if by mutual agreement. Now you see them dressing their plumage, now partially expanding their wings to the sun; some lay themselves comfortably down on the sand, while others, supported by one foot, stand side by side. The waters again advance and the Gulls all move off in search of food. At length the time has arrived; small parties of a few pairs fly towards the desert isles. Some remain in the nearest to prepare their
nests, the rest proceed, until each pair has found a suitable retreat, and before a fortnight has elapsed, incubation has commenced.

The nest of this species is usually placed on the bare rock of some low island, sometimes beneath a projecting shelf, sometimes in a wide fissure. In Labrador it is formed of moss and seaweeds carefully arranged, and has a diameter of about two feet, being raised on the edges to the height of five or six inches, but seldom more than two inches thick in the center, where feathers, dry grass and other materials are added. The
eggs are three, and in no instance have I found more. They are two inches and seven-eighths in length, by two inches and one-eighth in breadth, broadly ovate, rough but not granulated, of a pale earthy greenish-grey color, irregularly blotched and spotted with brownish-black, dark umber, and dull purple. Like those of most other Gulls, they afford good eating. This species lays from the middle of May to that of June, and raises only one brood in the season. The birds never leave their eggs for any length of time until the young make their appearance. Both sexes incubate, the sitting bird being supplied with food by
the other. During the first week the
young are fed by having their supplies disgorged into their bill, but when they have attained some size, the
food is dropped beside or before them. When they are approached by man, they walk with considerable speed towards some hiding place or to the nearest projecting ledge, beneath which they squat. When five or six weeks old, they take to the water to ensure their escape, and swim with great buoyancy. If caught, they cry in the manner of their parents. On the 18th of June, several small ones were procured and placed on the deck of the
Ripley
, where they walked with ease and picked up the food thrown to them. As soon as one was about to swallow its portion, another would run up, seize it, tug at it, and if stronger, carry it off and devour it. On the third of that month, two individuals, several weeks old and partly fledged, were also brought on board. Their notes, although feeble, perfectly resembled those of their parents. They ate greedily of everything that was offered to them. When fatigued they sat with their tarsi placed on the ground and extended forward, in the manner of all the Herons, which gave them a very ludicrous appearance. Before a month had elapsed, they appeared to have formed a complete acquaintance with the cook and several of the sailors, had become quite fat and conducted themselves much like Vultures, for if a dead Duck or even a Gull of their own species were thrown to them, they would tear it in pieces, drink the blood and swallow the flesh in large morsels, each trying to rob the others of what they had torn from the carcass. They never drank water, but not unfrequently washed the blood and filth from their bills by immersing them and then shaking the head violently. These birds were fed until they were nearly able to fly. Now and then the sailors would throw them overboard while we were in harbor. This seemed to gratify the birds as well as the sailors, for they would swim about, wash themselves, and dress their plumage, after which they would make for the sides, and would be taken on board. During a violent gale, one night while we were at anchor in the harbor of
Bras d’Or, our bark rolled heavily, and one of our pets went over the side and swam to the shore where, after considerable search next day, it was found shivering by the lee of a rock. On being brought to its brothers, it was pleasant to see their mutual congratulations, which were extremely animated. Before we
left the coast, they would sometimes fly of their own accord into the water to bathe, but could not return to the deck without assistance, although they endeavored to do so. I had become much attached to them, and now and then thought they looked highly interesting, as they lay panting on their sides on the deck, although the thermometer did not rise above 55°. Their enmity to my son’s pointer was quite remarkable, and as that animal was of a gentle and kindly disposition, they would tease him, bite him and drive him fairly from the deck into the cabin. A few days after leaving St. George’s Bay in Newfoundland, we were assailed by a violent gale and obliged to lie-to. Next day one of the Gulls was washed overboard. It tried to reach the vessel again, but in vain: the gale continued; the sailors told me the bird was swimming towards the shore, which was not so far off as we could have wished and which it probably reached in safety. The other was given to my friend
Lieutenant Green of the United States Army at Eastport in Maine. In one of his letters to me the following winter, he said that the young
Larus marinus
was quite a pet in the garrison and doing very well, but that no perceptible change had taken place in its plumage.

On referring to my journal again, I find that while we were at anchor at the head of St. George’s Bay, the sailors caught many
codlings, of which each of our young Gulls swallowed daily two, measuring from eight to ten inches in length. It was curious to see them after such a meal: the form of the fish could be traced along the neck, which for a while they were obliged to keep stretched out; they gaped and were evidently suffering; yet they would not throw up the fish. About the time the young of this species are nearly able to fly, they are killed in considerable numbers on their breeding grounds, skinned and salted for the settlers and resident fishermen of Labrador and Newfoundland, at which latter place I saw piles of them. When they are able to shift for themselves, their parents completely abandon them, and old and young go separately in search of
food.

The
flight of the Great Black-backed Gull is firm, steady, at times elegant, rather swift, and long protracted. While traveling, it usually flies at the height of fifty or sixty yards and proceeds in a direct course with easy, regulated flappings. Should the weather prove tempestuous, this Gull, like most others, skims over the
surface of the waters or the land within a few yards or even feet, meeting the gale but not yielding to it and forcing its way against the strongest wind. In calm weather and sunshine, at all seasons of the year, it is fond of soaring to a great height, where it flies about leisurely and with considerable elegance for half an hour or so in the manner of eagles, vultures and ravens. Now and then while pursuing a bird of its own species or trying to escape from an enemy, it passes through the air with rapid boundings which, however, do not continue long, and as soon as they are over it rises and slowly sails in circles. When man encroaches on its domains, it keeps over him at a safe distance, not sailing so much as moving to either side with continued flappings. To secure the fishes on which it more usually preys, it sweeps downwards with velocity, and as it glides over the spot, picks up its prey with its bill. If the fish is small, the Gull swallows it on wing, but if large, it either alights on the water or flies to the nearest shore to devour it.