“I was reading in a book about birds the other day,” said Big Sister, “that the gull is a protected bird, but it did not state why. I suppose on account of its beauty, isn’t it?”
“Not entirely,” said Somebody. “They are splendid scavengers, and are protected on that account—your friend the gull who got into trouble, Billy, was very likely following the vessel for the things thrown out from the kitchen—but outside of that they ought to be protected on account of their grace and beauty and the life and movement that they give to the upper air. They are, as far as I know, the only birds in the world to have a monument erected to them, and not a small one either but a great shaft of granite.”
“Oh, say, Somebody,” said the boy named Billy, “you’re so much better than any story book—what about these wonderful birds?”
“It was like this,” said Somebody. “When the Mormons went all the way across the sands of the desert, to improve the land on the shores of the Great Salt Lake in Utah, they met with many hardships and discouragements. After two years, when they had succeeded in getting water on the land, had planted things that were growing beautifully, and even had fields of waving grain which they were looking forward to harvesting, young fruit orchards started and vegetables growing, it seemed like a dream come true.”
“I’ll say so,” said the boy named Billy.
“Well, then,” said Somebody, “just as they had all those things and were as happy as could be, waiting for harvest time, and working at building more homes, along came a plague of black crickets, and began to devour every growing thing in sight. The crickets ate anything and everything. When the fields no longer looked promising they began on the clothing and bedding. It was impossible to hang out the family washing, because a drove of these hungry crickets would swoop down on it and leave a trail of gnawed holes.
“The people fought the pests with every weapon they had, but it did no good, and they had to simply stand by and see everything eaten and destroyed.
“When everything they knew of had been done, there was sent out a call for the people to come into the middle of town for prayer that the scourge might be lifted.
“All day long they prayed—and just before evening there came a white cloud from the west which proved to be millions of sea-gulls, every one of which had brought along a perfectly good appetite for black crickets, and before you could say Jack Robinson there wasn’t a single cricket left to tell the tale. Right then and there, those poor Mormon farmers turned the prayer meeting into a day of Thanksgiving.
“In fact, so thankful were they that they built in Temple Square in Salt Lake City a beautiful granite monument called The Monument To The Sea-Gulls, and declared the sea-gull to be the sacred bird of Utah forever.”