126 Bird - Lore 
breeding-roosts of the lamented Passenger Pigeon, and are well worth great 
effort to visit on the part of lovers of bird-life, offering particular sport to the hun- 
ter with the camera, since the ‘game’ is both beautiful and readily approachable. 
It is no easy matter to locate a colony, as the birds select a wild region and 
are liable to change their location from year to year. Thus, to ascertain from 
settlers where they have nested the year before does not assure finding them 
the next season. The distances over the prairie are so vast that one may easily 
miss the right location. By dint of driving and tramping for hundreds of miles, 
during several trips to the Northwest, I have succeeded in finding two of the great 
colonies. One was in North Dakota, which I have described in ‘Among the 
Water-Fowl.’ The other and later experience was out in the broken, rolling 
prairie country of southwestern Saskatchewan, where there are many lakes and 
where this Gull is, in many localities, a common bird. Most of the lakes were 
alkaline, and had no lacustrine grass or rushes favorable for the desired “roost.” 
The ninth of June began as one of the many cold, lowering days of the 
unusually wet season of 1905 on those bleak plains, when we started off on another 
cold drive in search of the elusive colony. The sky was dark with heavy banks of 
cumuli, with a sinister, autumnal aspect. For five miles the trail meandered 
up and down over the rolling prairie, then up a billowy ridge. Out beyond us 
for some miles extended a perfectly flat plain, which in time past had evidently 
been the bed of a large lake. All that was left of it lay well out in the middle of 
the area, a long, narrow lake, in two arms, surrounded by a vast area of reeds 
growing out of the water. In the foreground a big bunch of cattle were feeding. 
As we drove nearer I noticed a few of the Gulls flying toward the lake or hovering 
over the reeds. The nearer we came, the more birds were in evidence. Stopping 
the horse, I looked through my binoculars. There was no longer room for doubt. 
Hundreds of Gulls, anywhere I might look over a wide area, were fluttering up 
and alighting. Handing the glass to my fellow-enthusiast, I exclaimed,— Now 
you can shout; we have found it at last!” 
Driving to the margin of the great marshy flat, where the prairie began to be 
wet and soft, we halted. Near us began a solid area of reeds that extended out 
perhaps a quarter of a mile to the first open water. We could now hear the con- 
fused chattering of the multitude of Gulls. With cameras strapped to our backs 
and long rubber boots pulled up, we started in, rather anxiously, fearing that the 
water might prove too deep to wade, and we had no boat. To our delight it 
proved to be not over knee-deep. Canvasbacks, redheads, and other ducks kept 
flying out before us, and Coots and Grebes slipped off through the tangle. We 
paid them scant attention now, for we were about to witness a sight so remark- 
able that we had eyes for hardly anything else. 
Now the Gulls began to discover us. Rising in clouds, with ear-splitting 
screaming, they flew to greet us, hovering but a few yards over our heads. 
The sun was shining brightly through the fast departing clouds, and their white 
breasts showed clearly the delicate rosy tinge. Here, now, were the first of the 
