This species walks well, moving firmly and with an air of importance. On the water it swims lightly but slowly, and may soon be overtaken by a boat. It has no power of diving, although at times, when searching for food along the shores, it will enter the water on seeing a crab or a lobster, to seize it, in which it at times succeeds. I saw one at Labrador plunge after a large crab in about two feet of water, when, after a tug, it hauled it ashore, where it devoured it in my sight. I watched its movements with a glass, and could easily observe how it tore the crab to pieces, swallowed its body, leaving the shell and the claws, after which it flew off to its young and disgorged before them.
It is extremely voracious, and devours all sorts of food excepting vegetables, even the most putrid carrion, but prefers fresh fish, young birds, or small quadrupeds, whenever they can be procured. It sucks the eggs of every bird it can find, thus destroying great numbers of them, as well as the parents, if weak or helpless. I have frequently seen these Gulls attack a flock of young Ducks while swimming beside their mother, when the latter, if small, would have to take to wing, and the former would all dive, but were often caught on rising to the surface, unless they happened to be among rushes. The Eider Duck is the only one of the tribe that risks her life, on such occasions, to save that of her young. She will frequently rise from the water, as her brood disappear beneath, and keep the Gull at bay, or harass it until her little ones are safe under some shelving rocks, when she flies off in another direction, leaving the enemy to digest his disappointment. But while the poor Duck is sitting on her eggs in any open situation, the marauder assails her, and forces her off, when he sucks the eggs in her very sight. Young Grous are also the prey of this Gull, which chases them over the moss-covered rocks, and devours them before their parents. It follows the shoals of fishes for hours at a time, and usually with great success. On the coast of Labrador, I frequently saw these birds seize flounders on the edges of the shallows; they often attempted to swallow them whole, but, finding this impracticable, removed to some rock, beat them, and tore them to pieces. They appear to digest feathers, bones, and other hard substances with ease, seldom disgorging their food, unless for the purpose of feeding their young or mates, or when wounded and approached by man, or when pursued by some bird of greater power. While at Boston in Massachusetts, one cold winter morning, I saw one of these Gulls take up an eel, about fifteen or eighteen inches in length, from a mud bank. The Gull rose with difficulty, and after some trouble managed to gulp the head of the fish, and flew towards the shore with it, when a White-headed Eagle made its appearance, and soon overtook the Gull, which reluctantly gave up the eel, on which the Eagle glided towards it, and, seizing it with its talons, before it reached the water, carried it off.
This Gull is excessively shy and vigilant, so that even at Labrador we found it difficult to procure it, nor did we succeed in obtaining more than about a dozen old birds, and that only by stratagem. They watched our movements with so much care as never to fly past a rock behind which one of the party might be likely to lie concealed. None were shot near the nests when they were sitting on their eggs, and only one female attempted to rescue her young, and was shot as she accidentally flew within distance. The time to surprise them was during violent gales, for then they flew close to the tops of the highest rocks, where we took care to conceal ourselves for the purpose. When we approached the rocky islets on which they bred, they left the place as soon as they became aware of our intentions, cackled and barked loudly, and when we returned, followed us at a distance more than a mile.
They begin to moult early in July. In the beginning of August the young were seen searching for food by themselves, and even far apart. By the 12th of that month they had all left Labrador. We saw them afterwards along the coast of Newfoundland, and while crossing the Gulf of St Lawrence, and found them over the bays of Nova Scotia, as we proceeded southward. When old, their flesh is tough and unfit for food. Their feathers are elastic, and good for pillows and such purposes, but can rarely be procured in sufficient quantity.
The most remarkable circumstance relative to these birds is, that they either associate with another species, giving rise to a hybrid brood, or that when very old they lose the dark colour of the back, which is then of the same tint as that of the Larus argentatus, or even lighter. This curious fact was also remarked by the young gentlemen who accompanied me to Labrador; and although it is impossible for me to clear up the doubts that may be naturally entertained on this subject, whichever of the two suppositions is adopted, the fact may yet be established and accounted for by persons who may have better opportunities of watching them and studying their habits. No individuals of Larus argentatus were, to my knowledge, seen on that coast during the three months which I passed there, and the fishermen told us that the “saddle-backs were the only large Gulls that ever breed there.”
This bird must be of extraordinary longevity, as I have seen one that was kept in a state of captivity more than thirty years. The following very interesting account of the habits of a partially domesticated individual I owe to my esteemed and learned friend Dr Neill of Edinburgh.
“In the course of the summer of 1818, a “big scorie” was brought to me by a Newhaven fisher-boy, who mentioned that it had been picked up at sea, about the mouth of the Frith of Forth. The bird was not then fully fledged: it was quite uninjured: it quickly learned to feed on potatoes and kitchen refuse, along with some ducks; and it soon became more familiar than they, often peeping in at the kitchen window in hopes of getting a bit of fat meat, which it relished highly. It used to follow my servant Peggy Oliver about the doors, expanding its wings and vociferating for food. After two moults I was agreeably surprised to find it assuming the dark plumage of the back, and the shape and colour of the bill of the Larus marinus, or Great Black-backed Gull; for I had hitherto regarded it as merely a large specimen of the Lesser Black-backed (L. fuscus), a pair of which I then possessed, but which had never allowed the new comer to associate with them. The bird being perfectly tame, we did not take the precaution of keeping the quills of one wing cut short, so as to prevent flight; indeed, as it was often praised as a remarkably large and noble looking Sea-maw, we did not like to disfigure it. In the winter 1821-2, it got a companion in a cock-heron, which had been wounded in Coldinghame Muir, brought to Edinburgh alive, and kept for some weeks in a cellar in the old College, and then presented to me by the late Mr John Wilson, the janitor,—a person remarkably distinguished for his attachment to natural history pursuits. This Heron we succeeded in taming completely, and it still (1835) remains with me, having the whole garden to range in, the trees to roost upon, and access to the Loch at pleasure, the loch being the boundary of my garden. Some time in the spring of 1822, the large Gull was amissing; and we ascertained (in some way that has now escaped my memory) that it had not been stolen, nor killed, as we at first supposed, but had taken flight, passing northwards over the village, and had probably therefore gone to sea. Of course I gave up all expectation of ever hearing more of it. It was not without surprise, therefore, that on going home one day in the end of October of that year, I heard my servant calling out with great exultation, “Sir, Big Gull is come back!” I accordingly found him walking about in his old haunts in the garden, in company with, and recognising (as I am firmly persuaded) his old friend the Heron. He disappeared in the evening, and returned in the morning, for several days; when Peggy Oliver thought it best to secure him. He evidently did not like confinement, and it was concerted that he should be allowed his liberty, although he ran much risk of being shot on the mill-pond by youthful sportsmen from Edinburgh. After this temporary captivity, he was more cautious and shy than formerly; but still he made almost daily visits to the garden, and picked up herrings or other food laid down for him. In the beginning of March 1823 his visits ceased; and we saw no more of him till late in the autumn of that year. These winter visits to Canonmills, and summer excursions to the unknown breeding-place, were continued for years with great uniformity: only I remarked that after the Gull lost his protectress, who died in 1828[A], he became more distant in his manners. In my note-book, under date of 26th October 1829, I find this entry: ‘Old Peggy’s Great Black-backed Gull arrived at the pond this morning, the seventh (or eighth) winter he has regularly returned. He had a scorie with him, which was soon shot on the loch, by some cockney sportsman.’ The young bird, doubtless one of his offspring, had its wing shattered, and continued alive in the middle of the pond, occasionally screaming piteously, for two or three days, till relieved by death. The old Gull immediately abandoned the place for that winter, as if reproaching us for cruelty. By next autumn, however, he seemed to have forgotten the injury; for, according to my record, ‘30th October 1830. The Great Black-backed Gull once more arrived at Canonmills garden.’ The periods of arrival, residence, and departure were nearly similar in the following year. But in 1832, not only October, but the months of November and December passed away without Gull’s making his appearance, and I of course despaired of again seeing him. He did, however, at length arrive. The following is the entry in my common-place book: ‘Sunday, 6th January 1833. This day the Great Black-back returned to the mill-pond, for (I think) the eleventh season. He used to re-appear in October in former years, and I concluded him dead or shot. He recognised my voice, and hovered over my head.’ He disappeared early in March as usual, and re-appeared at Canonmills on 23d December 1833, being a fortnight earlier than the date of his arrival in the preceding season, but six weeks later than the original period of re-appearance. He left in the beginning of March as usual, and I find from my notes that he ‘reappeared on 30th December 1834 for the season, first hovering around and then alighting on the pond as in former years.’ The latest entry is, ‘11th March 1835: The Black-backed Gull was here yesterday, but has not been seen to-day; nor do I expect to see him till November.’
[A] “Peggy Oliver was remarkable far the zeal and taste she displayed in the domesticating of uncommon animals, as well as in the culture of plants: her expertness in the latter department is noticed and praised by Mr Loudon in his Gardener’s Magazine. Her funeral was attended by some of the most distinguished naturalists here, and, among others, by your friend Dr MacCulloch of Pictou, who happened to be in Edinburgh at the time, and whose friendship I have also the happiness to enjoy.”
“This Gull has often attracted the attention of persons passing the village of Canonmills, by reason of its sweeping along so low or near the ground, and on account of the wide expanse of wing which it thus displays. It is well known to the boys of the village as “Neill’s Gull,” and has, I am aware, owed its safety more than once to their interference, in informing passing sportsmen of its history. When it first arrives in the autumn, it is in the regular habit of making many circular sweeps around the pond and garden, at a considerable elevation, as if reconnoitring; it then gradually lowers its flight, and gently alights about the centre of the pond. Upon the gardener’s mounting the garden-wall with a fish in his hand, the Gull moves towards the overhanging spray of some large willow-trees, so as to catch what may be thrown to him, before it sinks in the water. There can be no doubt whatever of the identity of the bird. Indeed, he unequivocally shews that he recognises my voice when I call aloud ‘Gull, Gull;’ for whether he be on wing or afloat, he immediately approaches me.
“A few pairs of the Great Black-backed Gull breed at the Bass Rock yearly, and it seems highly probable that my specimen had originally been hatched there. If I may be allowed a conjecture, I would suppose that, after attaining maturity, he for some years resorted to the same spot for the purpose of breeding; but that of late years, having lost his mate or encountered some other disaster, he has extended his migration for that purpose to some very distant locality, which has rendered his return to winter quarters six weeks later than formerly.”