Times-Herald (Vallejo)

Savvy scavengers from the skies

Why those eighth-inning gulls gather at precisely their self-appointed hour is one of baseball’s great mysteries

- BY JOAN MORRIS

The first ones float in slowly, silently, unobserved by most. They circle high above, watching, waiting and then glide in off the horizon to perch on upper railings and light standards, becoming ghostly sentinels.

The crowd of baseball fans, intent on watching the opening innings of a game, are unlikely to notice the unusual visitors until, like a fury unleashed in the eighth inning, the skies fill with large and loud white-winged Valkyries, gleaming in the sun or luminescen­t in the lights that illuminate the night.

The gulls have come. And they’ve come for your garlic fries.

No one quite seems to know for certain why gulls — Western and California gulls, mostly — seem to know the Giants and A’s schedules nor why they show up en masse around the eighth inning. Is it the sounds, the smells, dumb luck?

“Gulls are pretty smart and underappre­ciated,” says Scott Shaffer, a San Jose State University biologist who spends a lot of time with gulls. “They do a lot of interestin­g things besides pooping on cars and stealing food. If people could see what I see, they’d have a different view of gulls.”

Shaffer’s view includes sneaking up on gulls on the Farallon Islands to slip tiny GPS trackers on them. Because gulls remember and recognize faces and distinctiv­e clothing, Shaffer has to wear disguises so the gulls won’t realize it’s “that guy” again.

Shaffer then tracks the gulls as they fly about. He does other testing, too, that is not so savory, such as collecting their vomit to see what they’re eating, all in the name of research.

The most amazing thing

Shaffer has observed was a gull that seemed to travel at highway speeds, following a roadway from Berkeley to a recycling center in the Central Valley. He quickly figured out the bird had inadverten­tly hitched a ride on a recycling truck.

At least he thought it was inadverten­t, until the gull, which had flown back to Berkeley the next day at a more gull-like pace and route, did the same thing again. Scary smart.

Theories abound about why the birds visit Bay Area ballparks, showing up for day and night games alike, and always around the same time in the game, no matter how slow play has been or how many extra innings it goes into. A common taunt aimed at pitchers taking too long between pitches: Hurry up, the gulls are waiting.

The reverse is also curious. The gulls don’t bother with stadiums in the offseason or when the home team is away, AND they skipped it altogether last season when the stands were filled with cardboard cutouts.

Food, obviously, is a big draw, but how do they know exactly when to come?

Shaffer thinks the gulls are

probably attracted by the crowds. The gulls likely have a few scouts — the early birds, if you will — that keep an eye on the stadiums for signs of activity. The birds have learned that the stadiums put out an extensive buffet. If they see activity, the scouts communicat­e to other gulls that the table is being set.

Gulls aren’t shy about swooping in to take food, but they seem to wait for the eighth inning.

Walnut Creek pediatrici­an Joanna Chin and her husband, attorney Byron Chin, describe themselves as gull hobbyists. Part of a volunteer group working to save Heermann’s gulls in Baja California, the Chins love gulls almost as much as they love the Giants — so a trip to the ballpark is a double joy for them.

Their theory on the gulls’ eighth inning arrival: The birds have learned that the music played during the seventh-inning stretch is akin to a dinner bell, and the thinning crowd toward the end of the game gives the gulls more wing room to operate.

Convinced that the Giants have the game well in hand (or irretrieva­bly lost), fans head for the exit in an attempt to beat traffic. The smaller crowds mean less interferen­ce for the gulls, who swoop down to the bleachers, then make their way around and down to the field level sections to scarf down the snacks left behind. Garlic fries, hot dog remnants, spilled popcorn, even bright orange nacho cheese — the gulls attack it with glee.

Gulls aren’t the only scavenging birds that visit ballparks, but they are perhaps the largest, loudest and most noticeable, and they show up in greater numbers, estimated in the thousands.

The Chins are excited to take their 2-year-old daughter to her first Giants game this year, where they’ll teach her about strikes and foul balls, base hits and home runs and, of course, the gulls.

Shaffer, a San Diego native and a Padres fan, probably won’t attend any games this season. Neither will the gulls he tracks on the Farallons, which have never made an appearance at either stadium.

Well, there’s no telling when it comes to team loyalty.

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ARIC CRABB/STAFF ?? Bottom right: The upper deck during an Athletics game proves irresistib­le for Bay Area birds.
KARL MONDON/STAFF ARIC CRABB/STAFF Bottom right: The upper deck during an Athletics game proves irresistib­le for Bay Area birds.
 ?? ?? Above: Gulls descend upon the litterstre­wn stands of Oracle Park in San Francisco.
Above: Gulls descend upon the litterstre­wn stands of Oracle Park in San Francisco.
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 ?? ?? As the crowds thin toward the end of a Giants game, Oracle Park turns into a buffet venue for hungry gulls with a taste for nacho cheese.
As the crowds thin toward the end of a Giants game, Oracle Park turns into a buffet venue for hungry gulls with a taste for nacho cheese.
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KARL MONDON/STAFF

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