THE OOLOQIST 



149 



where his mate crouches flat with 

 head and bill prone to the ground, 

 ^nd whose protective coloration is so 

 perfect, that except for the alert, 

 beady eyes, she appears but as the 

 dry, sprangling marsh grass. It is 

 dusk as we are making our way back 

 through the fields, and we stop for a 

 moment to watch the wonderful song- 

 Pight of the Wilson Snipe, and listen 

 to the clear whistle of the Long-billed 

 Curlew. 



This lovely May day we are on our 

 way to Saltair, where the Amorita is 

 tugging at her anchor. We put off, 

 and a brisk breeze soon takes us to 

 Antelope Island. Herethe bird life 

 varies little from the adjacent main- 

 land, so we sail around the northwest 

 end where White Rock rises precipit- 

 ously out of the water. Here is the 

 first evidence of the home of the Cali- 

 fornia Gull and the Great Blue Heron, 

 whose nests are built everywhere in 

 the crevices of the boulders. A run 

 of about four miles brings us to Egg 

 Island. Well is it named, for here the 

 rookeries are teeming with thousands 

 of birds, and our intrusion brings forth 

 a screaming, squawking remonstrance. 

 On the rocks and boulders are the 

 nests of the Great Blue Heron and a 

 colony of Double-crested Cormorant; 

 on the beaches the California Gull lays 

 its eggs. So numerous are they that 

 one can scarcely walk without step- 

 ping upon them. Who does not love 

 the quiet, peaceful Gull that is held 

 so sacred by the inhabitants of Utah? 

 for only the aid of the gulls enabled 

 the people to withstand that terrible 

 visitation of crickets that came upon 

 the early pioneers in 1848. 



On Fremont Island we find only the 

 American Raven, induced there by the 

 sheep. On Hat Island are the rooker- 

 ies of two colonies of American White 

 Pelican and thousands of Gulls. How 

 awkward is the Pelican on land, but 



launched in the air he has a wonder- 

 fully firm, steady flight. Stretching 

 from Hat Island towards Carrington 

 is a long sandbar, on which the grace- 

 ful Caspian Tern raises her brood. 

 Gunnison is the most densely popu- 

 lated island. The immense accumu- 

 lations of guano give evidence of the 

 ages during which these same birds 

 have been its only residents, and here 

 if the home of all the sea birds men- 

 tioned, except the Caspian Tern. A 

 night spent on these islands of con- 

 gested bird life is surely a revelation; 

 for with the first grey streaks of dawn 

 the heavens above the islands are fill- 

 ed with a circling, whirling, scream- 

 ing, squawking bevy of winged life as 

 the birds are preparing for their 

 flight inland for food, some fifty or 

 sixty miles. 



It is still the month of May, and 

 we are over a hundred miles from Salt 

 Lake. All is desolation and solitude 

 as we stand looking over the great 

 reaches of desert, mountain and sky, 

 watching the train disappear in the 

 distance like a tiny black reptile, 

 creeping over the sand. We have 

 come to study the American Raven, 

 and are soon reminded of his pres- 

 ence when we hear his free, wild call. 

 Farther on, several pairs are feasting 

 on a breakfast of carrion. Working 

 our way up the cliffs to their home 

 on the bare ledge, we arouse the 

 scream of the Red-tail Hawk and the 

 shrill notes of the Prairie Falcon. We 

 stop to watch the wonderful flight of 

 a Golden Eagle as he floats upon the 

 air, noting his direction as a possible 

 clue to his eyrie. It is seven miles 

 back to the train, and as we walR 

 briskly along, we are cheered by the 

 happy songs of the Desert Horned 

 Lark, the Sage Thrasher, and the lit- 

 tle Brewer Sparrow. 



It is five in the morning on the 6th 

 of June. If you will take the rear seat 



