The Fabric of Great Salt Lake
I occasionally hear people talk about Great Salt Lake as a Dead Lake—and question why any of us should care about the health of a Dead Lake with water so salty it can’t support human life. At a microscopic level, our lake is far from dead. The microbialites feed a thriving population of brine shrimp and brine flies, which in turn host an enormous population of birds that depend on inland saline lakes for survival during migration. As our very living lake truly dies, many populations of birds will die with it; they'll be unable to refuel during ocean-to-ocean migrations. Our lakes are canaries in a mine and warn us of damage we are doing to our environment.
Since their natural habitat is becoming more of a memory, when I started this series, I took time to settle on something that would allow the birds to be the focal point while emphasizing the need to protect their world. Fabric flows gently like water, is a common backdrop to formal portraiture; but, as beautiful and flowing as it is, fabric can’t support any of us like water.
Thus, the fabric in my paintings emphasizes the need for us to be mindful stewards to the beautiful creatures that depend on us.
My dad remembers the moment he fell in love with birds. He was 9 years old when he rode his bike from his house in Bountiful to the sandy shores of Great Salt Lake. He surprised a flock of thousands of white pelicans. They took off all at once; their great wings sounded like a jet engine. He had never seen pelicans before or known they were in Utah.
I love pelicans. They’re awkward and huge, elegant and unique. Sometimes you can see them flying as a group in a v-formation really, really high. You’ll know it’s them by the striking black bands on their wings.
American White Pelican are a sign of spring in Utah. They come here to breed, and stay until fall, after their chicks have fledged. They nest primarily at Great Salt Lake, but feed elsewhere (Utah Lake, Strawberry Reservoir, etc.) Every single day. Why? Because Great Salt Lake offers protection and few predators, but no food (fish). Meanwhile, surrounding lakes offer plenty of food (fish), but lots of predators. When you nest on the ground, and have to leave your young for long periods of time everyday to go fishing, you take what you can get even if it requires a long, exhausting commute. Every single day.
During prolonged droughts, the thousands of pelicans that normally nest at Great Salt Lake don’t stay. As the lake level falls, the dry bed makes it too easy for predators to cross and access the nests. Since the lake hosts the largest American White Pelican breeding grounds in the world, this is rather concerning for white pelican populations.
It’s estimated that about 98% of the world’s population of eared grebes is dependent on Great Salt Lake during migration. When they land at the lake, their muscles shrink and their organs grow, making flight impossible. (In fact, eared grebes are unable to fly for over nine months a year.) In ideal years, when the lake is healthy, they rest and feed until they double their weight; then, just before they need to finish their migration, their organs shrink, their muscles grow, and they can fly to their final destination.
When they land at the Great Salt Lake to refuel, and the lake level is too low, they’re stuck; they can’t leave to find a better situation—and they starve to death by the thousands.
Phalaropes turn everything you think you know about bird families on its head. Females develop colorful plumage during the breeding season and perform elaborate courtship dances to woo the males. They leave the nest after they lay a clutch of eggs. Males, on the other hand, incubate the eggs and raise the chicks completely by themselves.
Unlike other long-legged “shorebirds”, phalaropes rarely spend time on land. They prefer swimming, so if you want to see them, watch the water where you might catch them swimming in dizzying circles, creating little vortexes of brine shrimp to feast on. Those little shrimp help the phalaropes double their weight before they move on. About a quarter of the world’s population of Wilson’s Phalaropes depend on Great Salt Lake to refuel during fall and spring migration.
Tundra swans were referred to as “whistling swans” by Meriwether Lewis, as their wings softly whistle when they fly. Each swan pairs with a permanent mate by the time they’re 2-3 years old (they live about 24 years), but continues to migrate in enormous flocks—sometimes with several thousand swans. Although you might see them on land to tend to their nests, they otherwise stay in the water, even to sleep.
Roughly 75% of the western population of tundra swans rest and refuel on aquatic plants at the tributaries around the Great Salt Lake during their 3-4,000-mile migration to and from their breeding grounds in the Arctic tundra. Every year, we spot one or two who winter over at the lake–perhaps they were injured when their flock flew on, or maybe they were just too tired….
Snowy plovers are beautiful little shorebirds that blend well with the sand—watch for movement and you will see them running around since they rarely stop for long when they’re foraging. The Great Salt Lake hosts the largest population of snowy plovers in the world.
Plovers lay their eggs directly on the sand. Chicks are fully able to forage within 3 hours of hatching, but will still brood with the parents to stay warm.
Long-billed Dowitchers are large shorebirds that use their long bills to dig through mud to find bugs and grubs. The tips of their bills, like your fingertips, are very sensitive to touch, which makes finding food easier; their bills are so sensitive that they frequently forage at night. They are often found foraging in the marshy grasses around Great Salt Lake.
Marbled Godwits are one of the largest shorebirds, standing at about 18” tall. Their size and two-tone bill make them easier to recognize, with the right set of binoculars. It uses its bill to dig through the mud for bugs and plant tubers. Roughly 25% of the world’s population of godwits is dependent on Great Salt Lake during migration.
I’ve painted this Marbled Godwit on a fabric (pretend) microbialite; Great Salt Lake is host to the largest collection of microbialites in the world. Microbialites are piles of organic sedimentary deposits that take hundreds of years to build, and they form the base of Great Salt Lake ecosystem. The sediment is colonized by Cyanobacteria and algae that feed microorganisms that then feed brine flies and brine shrimp—which, of course, then sustain hundreds of thousands of migrating birds every year. Exposed microbialites die rapidly; decreasing water levels at Great Salt Lake are quickly killing an ancient ecosystem that has taken thousands of years to build.
I love watching black-necked stilts, a shorebird that’s easy to identify, not least of all because they often hang out with (and have even been known to cross breed with) avocets. They are aptly named as they have the longest leg-to-body proportions of almost any birds—second only to flamingos.
American avocets migrate through Utah in the hundreds of thousands each year, stopping at Great Salt Lake to fill up before they continue finishing their flight south or north. About half the world’s population of avocets depends on Great Salt Lake each year; about 14% of the population stays at the lake to breed. They’re one of my favorite shorebirds–perhaps because they’re so easy to identify during breeding season.
Avocets use the bend in their bill to sift through the water, searching for bugs and grubs. Like many shorebirds, they sometimes lay their eggs in other birds’ nests—but other birds lay eggs in avocet nests, too, which makes me wonder: who’s raising the chicks? Fortunately, avocet chicks can leave the nest within 24 hours of hatching.