GAME-BIRDS ? 219 
firmly, ‘No; itis not! At least, not in staunch, common- 
sensed New England!’ 
The Mourning Dove 
“Soft of plumage, gentle, and almost sad of voice is 
the Mourning Dove, the grayish brown bird with metallic 
lustres, whose name is taken from its plaintive accents. 
Its comings and goings are silent, and, in spite of its size, 
for it is as large as the Meadowlark, if it was not for its 
cooing, heard early in the morning, we should seldom 
know of its presence, for its flight is noiseless, and it chooses 
trees in secluded places for the little loose bunch of sticks 
that forms its nest. 
“Formerly, this Dove, together with its cousin, the 
Passenger Pigeon, were everywhere to be found, while 
the Passenger Pigeon, a bird of fine flesh, was so plentiful 
as to be almost a staple article of food, and wagons 
loaded with birds were peddled through city streets. 
With the wastefulness of a people coming to a new and 
liberal country, the birds were often shot down in their 
roosts, from pure wantonness, and left to decay upon the 
ground, so that now the Passenger Pigeon and the wild 
buffalo have gone to the happy animal-country, where 
there is no hunting, together, — two valuable animals 
practically extinct, —and North America is the poorer 
for its thoughtlessness. 
“With this warning before us, the Kind Hearts’, of which 
there are plenty everywhere, whether they are banded 
into clubs or not, should strive to have this gentle, harmless 
life protected. 
“““Why ?’ says the farmer, in the states that refuse pro- 
