THE GUIDE TO NATURE 



my nighthawk family at any rate, for 

 the father slept at- home all day, in- 

 cidentally incubating the eggs and 

 urooding the little ones. At night he 

 was up in the air, while the patient 

 mother sat at home, anxious perhaps 

 like human mothers when their men 

 folks are out late.. Of course I do not 

 know that she was on the nest all 

 night, but I saw her there at seven at 

 night and at four in the morning, while 

 the males were flying so near that I 

 could distinctly see their white throat 

 patches. 



Nighthawks live mostly in the open 

 country, breeding among rocks and 

 broken branches where the eggs, and 

 more especially the young with their 

 mixture of black and white, are almost 

 invisible. Whippoorwills, on the other 

 hand, live more in the woods, and their 

 little ones are almost the exact color 

 of the dead leaves among which their 

 parents choose to lead them for whip- 

 poorwill and night-hawk twins alike 

 leave the nest very soon after hatching, 

 as is the custom of many ground dwell- 

 ing birds which make little or no nest. 



A State's Attack on Hawks. 



JOSEPH W. IJPPINCOTT — BETHAYRES, PA. 



The Hawk Bounty Law in Ohio has, 

 according to Assistant Inspector Alajor 

 Charles Becht's estimate, led to the killing 

 of 10,000 birds in that State since last 

 June. The killing is still going on, the 

 bounty paid being one dollar per hawk — 

 a high reward to put upon the heads of 

 birds which other states find the average 

 gunner only too prone to shoot without 

 such incentive and even the sanction of 

 the law. 



Many of us know the great good cer- 

 tain hawks do in killing ofif numbers of 

 destructive little rodents whose ranks if 

 unrestrained can increase five to six fold 

 in a year or even less time. That thous- 

 ands of valuable hawks must perish and 

 be thus lost to communities as mousers 

 and insect destroyers in order that a few 

 rascals in their ranks may pay the just 

 penalty of misdeeds seems to me a great 

 pity. 



We may all unite in condemning four 

 kinds of hawks, for they are proved to 

 be enemies of other birds and therefore 

 also of men — they are the sharpshin, the 

 iP^oshawk, the cooper and the peresjrin 

 falcon, commonly called the duck hawk 

 because of its predisposition to kill wild 



ducks. To such a black list one might 

 also add that big night marauder, the 

 great horned owl. It is an easy matter 

 to find in any library pictures of these 

 destroyers in order to distinguish them. 

 As a farmer as well as a bird lover I 

 am always indignant when I hear of more 

 or less slaughter of this kind. What 

 will our fields and woods look like if 

 gracefully soaring hawks are forever 

 eliminated from the view and if the land 

 and its crops are throughout the day 

 given over to rodent pests? 



In comments upon the same State's 

 game laws appears the statement that it 

 is against the law to kill or injure foxes 

 in Ohio. Verily, here is a puzzle. Is 

 there any wild fox that does not destroy 

 more birds, more four footed game ani- 

 mals and more chickens than a hawk? 

 Does the rather small value of his pelt 

 repay the depredation of years? 



These things may become live issues 

 in other states and it is well to carefully 

 consider them from all sides before it is 

 too late. 



Just Up the Road. 



Just up the road are wondrous things, 

 The kind of things the summer brings, 

 That seem to come and go on wings. 



Green fields refreshing to the sight, 

 Soft shining in the morning light, 

 Deep glowing at approach of night. 



High knolls where you may win a view, 

 Stonewalls where chipmunks peep at you, 

 Tall ferns that wave the summer through: 



And trees that give delightful shade, 

 A brooklet where the children wade. 

 In joyous hours that never fade. 



Gay flowers are nodding all the way. 

 But changing hues from day to day. 

 So evanescent is their stay. 



Round hills and evergreens galore, 

 And lovely wood-paths to explore. 

 For beauties that they have in store: 



'Tis true that these last through the year, 

 But later on you'll call them drear, 

 Enjoy them while <"he summer's here. 



The mossy carpets for your feet. 

 The air with piny odors sweet. 

 Ripe berries tempting you to eat. 



The birds and bees and insects too. 

 Don't let them be sealed books to you, 

 But read them ere the season's through. 



As on and on the roadway winds. 

 One ever some new beauty finds: 

 'Tis many things to many minds. 



- — Emma Peirce. 



