Letter from the editor
For generations, New Jersey residents have shared stories about the Jersey Devil, the legendary creature said to roam the Pine Barrens.
According to folklore, the story began in 1735, when a woman known as Mother Leeds was enduring a difficult labor with her 13th child. She reportedly cursed the unborn baby, which then transformed into a winged creature with a horse-like head, cloven hooves and a forked tail before escaping into the deep into the Pine Barrens in Galloway.
During one week in January 1909, Jersey Devil fever spread across South Jersey and Philadelphia. Newspapers reported strange tracks in the snow and dozens of encounters. A police officer in Bristol, Pennsylvania, even claimed he fired at the creature as it flew away.
But anyone who has spent time at the Jersey Shore knows the real Jersey Devil does not hide in the woods. It circles above the beach and boardwalk, waiting for you to let down your guard.
I am talking, of course, about the seagull.
Seagulls look innocent as they glide along the coast.
But those of us who live here know better. Behind those bright eyes is a carefully calculated plan to steal your lunch.
Eager seagulls wait until you have spent $14 on pizza, fries or ice cream. The moment you turn your head, it swoops in like a feathered fighter jet, leaving you empty-handed while the flock celebrates the win.
One beach town fought back. Ocean City called in creatures that looked even more like the legendary Jersey Devil. In 2019, the East Coast Falcon company began patrolling the Boardwalk and beach with trained hawks, falcons and an occasional owl. The raptors’ presence is usually enough to send the gulls elsewhere. It is the bird equivalent of hiring a stern-looking bouncer — one with talons.
Still, the gulls have not surrendered. Away from the defense patrols, they remain bold and calculating. I am fairly certain they communicate and conspire. One distracts you from the front while another approaches from behind.
Mother Leeds’ 13th child supposedly escaped up a chimney. Its modern relatives flee with slices of pizza.
Of course, we should not willingly feed them. Yet every summer, someone throws a fry into the air, unaware that they have performed the coastal version of summoning the Jersey Devil.
One gull appears. Then another. Their cries echo overhead as reinforcements arrive.
Within seconds, the sky darkens.
Despite their thieving ways, seagulls are part of life at the Shore. We complain, but the boardwalk would seem strangely quiet without them.
The legendary Jersey Devil may or may not be hiding in the Pine Barrens. But the real Jersey Devil is easy to find. It has feathers, an impressive wingspan and an appetite for boardwalk fries. It is always watching and waiting.
Peace & Love, Cindy
