ful birds — birds that, except for their noisy pres- 
ence, would nest and rear their young near our 
homes. They mob the robin, bluebird and wren 
so persistently and viciously it is nearly impos- 
sible to coax them to build in a sparrow-infested 
district. 
There is a group of winter birds — woodpeck- 
ers, nuthatches, chickadees, wrens, kinglets and 
snowbirds, that, previous to the advent of the 
English sparrow, liked to gather and frolic about 
our homes, picking the food friendly hands had 
scattered for them. These have been annihilated 
or relegated to the woods, save a scattered few 
who may be encouraged to visit a tempting bone 
hung in a tree, or a suet table. But even these 
dislike the little barbarians that refuse to others 
the bone they have no use for. 
It is impossible to change the nature of these 
worrisome birds, and quite beyond the possible 
to patiently endure them. Existing relations be- 
tween man and birds are not such as to admit of 
independent existence, but our relation with this 
gypsy foreigner has been strained quite to the 
point of separation. We not only can do with- 
out him, but his dismissal would be greatly to 
our advantage. But how shall we dismiss him! 
He heeds not suggestion or warning. Our 
“Look out there, now! 
We're going to shoot! 
Look out there! 
Don’t you understand!” 
makes not the slightest impression. Shall we 
shoot ? 
49 
