Observations in a Laughing Gull Colony 



By FRANCIS HARPER, College Point, N. Y. 



With photographs by the author 



THE backbone, or dry portion, of Cobb's Island is shaped much like a 

 fishhook with a long shank. At the south end, the narrow strip of 

 sandy beach, piled high with windrow upon windrow of tossed-up 

 oyster shells, curves westward, away from the sea, and then northward for a 

 short distance, forming the point of the hook. Here the sand merges into the 

 salt marsh that fringes the beach on its inner side, completely filling the hollow 

 of the curve, and stretching on to the north, in a narrowing line of green, as 

 far as the eye can follow. A number of little tide channels meander through the 

 marsh, and here and there lies a shallow lagoon. 



Beside one of the lagoons we found, on June 25, 191 1, a breeding colony 

 of about ten pairs of Laughing Gulls. As we approached, striding knee-deep 

 through the rank marsh grass, the Gulls arose in the air, and flew toward us 

 as if to protest against the intrusion. It was a matter of ease to locate their 

 nests, built as they were in the open, and not overhung with bending grass- 

 tops, as was a nearby Clapper Rail's home. Each of the nests was composed 

 of a mass of the coarse dead stalks of Spartina, the common salt marsh grass ; 

 they were built up to a height of ten or twelve inches above the ground, and 

 averaged perhaps two feet in diameter. Some of the birds had taken advan- 

 tage of previous accumulations of drift, to which they added their nesting 

 material. A shallow depression on the top contained the grayish, chocolate- 

 spotted eggs. 



Though the normal complement of eggs is three to five, and though the 

 season was now far advanced, the nests contained only from one to three eggs 

 apiece. For apparently every colony of Laughing Gulls, Skimmers, Terns, 

 and Clapper Rails in that region must reckon with repeated visits of egging 

 parties, which for years have been the bane of the breeding birds of the Vir- 

 ginia coast. And the Laughing Gulls, owing to the conspicuousness of their 

 nests and the esteem in which their large eggs are held, pay especially heavy 

 toll to the eggers. The hatching of a brood must mean, in most cases, a very 

 marked degree of patience and faithfulness on the part of the parent birds. 



Late in the afternoon of that day, an exceptionally high new-moon tide, 

 accompanied by a rainstorm of tropical violence, with thunder, lightning, 

 and a magnificently impressive cloud display, threatened havoc among the 

 nests of all the marsh birds. From the shelter of the club-house porch, at the 

 tip of the sandy hook, we looked out over the flooded marsh, and could discern 

 numbers of Clapper Rails, driven from their usual retreats, skulking about 

 on top of the floating drift. We were more concerned, however, for the less 

 common Laughing Gulls, some of which were then flying above their nests in the 

 fast-gathering darkness and calling in alarm, as it seemed, at the rising flood. 



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