BIRDS OF THE WEST 119 



almost every fence post. He can remember the plover call, the 

 flight on trembling wings and as he alighted on the post, how 

 carefully he adjusted his wings as though every feather must 

 be perfectly placed. What slender legs and tiny neck. What a 

 prim little body! But how rare! 



Sportsmen have bagged about all of them and would go on 

 bagging and bagging until there is never a quail or a chicken or 

 a plover left. The plover should be restored to his rightful place 

 in the field. How often you have seen it fly about the dog in 

 order to entice him away from either its nest or its young. Nest, 

 did I say? Hardly a nest but a little depression wallowed in 

 the grass and jammed full with four good big pointed eggs that 

 seem to me to be every bit as big as the bird's body. I would not 

 believe for a long time that the little fellow laid the muddy look- 

 ing things. What little rolls of fuzz come out of them too! 

 Pretty little babies they are — one of the triumphs of creative art. 

 The plover is a dainty morsel for the epicure but only a 

 mouthful for the glutton who generally gets him. It is murder 

 to kill a plover, murder in the first degree, with malice afore- 

 thought, as cool and deliberate as the aim that lays him low. 

 Civilization (if it is) takes its toll. As it comes westward it 

 carries evil and death with it and mars and scars the beautiful face 

 of things. No more rag-dolls for our babies that they may have 

 something to make their little minds work (The little boy in 

 "Helen's Babies" didn't like "boughten dollies") but they open 

 and close their eyes now and when you press them they cry 

 ''Mamma," "Mamma". In a little while they'll sulk and get 

 to swearing. 



Let us make a plea for the plover, let us make it possible for 

 the children yet unborn to hear its whistle upon the moorland 

 calling them forth to tune their hearts with Nature. Let them 

 no morje hear the "Bang! Bang! Bang!" that all too soon is mak- 

 ing a silent prairie. 



