372 HOMING WITH THE BIRDS 



and however possible; at the same time, my strong- 

 est displeasure is waiting for the head of anyone 

 who touches my great horned owls, my chicken 

 hawks — I can not even allow the killing of the jays. 



Because I love the birds more, it necessarily 

 follows that I love cats less. From my point of 

 view, I prefer to dispense with the work of a cat 

 and solve the mouse problem with a trap rather 

 than to have cats around; since they would spend 

 much of the day and all of the night feeding upon 

 beneficial birds, the song and beauty of which I 

 adore. 



I should strongly recommend a fair-sized, pliant 

 switch for the back of the small boy or girl who 

 deliberately destroys a bird's nest after having been 

 carefully taught the reason for the protection of 

 all beneficial birds. When it comes to the gunner 

 who takes deliberate aim at an exquisite songbird, 

 merely to test his skill, I consider him one of the 

 most selfish, ignorant, and disgusting creatures 

 that come within my knowledge. Sentiment on 

 this subject is now so strong and law so stringent 

 that these outrages are seldom perpetrated any 

 more, but it was the body of a cardinal grosbeak, 

 used as a target by a conscienceless hunter, which 

 drove me to the outburst of indignation that re- 

 sulted in my first book, "The Song of the Cardinal." 



And I have a complaint against scientific ornitho- 

 logical workers that I feel it is only fair and just to 

 the birds that I should bring forward. I realize 



