Oe sib 
PHOTOGRAPHING “PRAIRIE 
PIGEONS" 
bY GERBER T .K;. JOB 
PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE 
when the rich black soil 
has thawed at the sur- 
face, the settler of the 
northwest prairies goes 
forth to: plow. Whe 
Sos = warm season is_ short, 
and his tillage vast, so he delays not 
for wind or storm. One day he is dark 
as a coal-heaver, when the strong winds 
which sweep almost ceaselessly over the 
prairie hurl upon him avalanches of black 
dust. Next day, perchance, in a driving 
storm of wet snow he turns black furrows 
in the interminable white expanse, his 
shaggy fur coat buttoned close around 
him. Then comes a day of warm sun- 
shine, when, as he plows, he is followed 
by a troupe of handsome birds which some 
might mistake for white doves. Without 
sign of fear they alight in the furrow close 
behind him and, with graceful carriage, 
hurry about to pick up the worms and 
grubs which the plow has just unearthed. 
Often have | watched the plowman and 
his snowy retinue, and it appeals to me as 
one of the prettiest sights which the wide 
prairies can afford. No wonder that the 
lonely settler likes the dainty, familiar 
bird, and in friendly spirit calls it his 
“prairie pigeon.”’ 
It is indeed a beauty, a little larger than 
a domestic pigeon, with white plumage, 
save for the grayish mantle, as it were, on 
the back, the dark slaty head and neck 
which make it appear to wear a hood, and 
the black-tipped wings. It often passes 
very near, and one can see that the white 
breast and under parts have a beautiful, 
delicate rosy blush, which can be likened 
to that of the peach blossom. In reality 
AUTHOR 
it is no pigeon at all, but a gull, one of 
several rosy-breasted gulls of the northern 
regions, the Franklin’s gull, so named in 
honor of the arctic explorer, Sir John 
Franklin, or, as the earlier writers called it, 
the Franklin’s rosy gull. 
In Audubon’s time few white men had 
penetrated “‘the great American desert’”’ 
or seen this handsome rosy gull, which only 
recently Dr. Richardson had discovered in 
the “fur countries.” Audubon himself had 
never met with it alive, and has no picture 
of it in his great work, describing it from 
the only two stuffed skins available, 
brought from the Saskatchewan country, 
probably by some explorer or fur-trader. 
But now the billowy prairies are settled, 
and thousands of farmers know well the 
bird which the indefatigable ornitholo- 
gist was then unable to meet. 
It is no wonder that this bird is of special 
interest in the region where it is known. 
Its tameness and familiarity are delightful, 
especially to those who are isolated on 
remote claims in the more newly settled 
parts. In abundance, too, it is one of the 
few species which could even suggest the 
numbers, at times, of the lamented wild 
or passenger pigeon, now all but extinct. 
In the cold days of spring in North Dakota 
I have seen the air fairly full of them, set- 
tling in acres upon the dark, cold prairie, 
as though a snow-storm were in progress. 
In one case this was within a few miles of 
where | afterward found an enormous 
breeding colony. 
Another attractive element about this 
bird is its restlessness and mysteriousness. 
It is nearly always on the move. Faintly 
come the cries as of a distant flock of wild 
geese or a pack of hounds. Louder and 
85 
