THE PERCHING BIRDS. 87 



glass to aid me counted sixty-three, and every one I 

 think was busy grub-hunting. These birds were mi- 

 grating northward, but had stopped here to feed, and 

 the man who owned that field was highly favored ; 

 and yet I venture to say that if any loafer had hap- 

 pened along with a gun and killed a dozen or more 

 of these birds, the owner of the field would not have 

 entered a protest. It is this culpable indifference on 

 the part of so many farmers, and a fancy that the 

 birds take too much fruit, that causes them to cry 

 out in despair that the grubs are too much for them 

 and farming doesn't pay, and all that twaddle. Per 

 contra, I knew a bird-loving farmer who persistently 

 took the law in his own hands and personally arrested 

 every bird-shooter, and thrashed them in advance of 

 arrest, and the result was his door-yard even was full 

 of singing-birds, and people came from the town to 

 hear and see them. This has been preached by others 

 since the beginning of the century and has done but 

 little good ; but I, for one, shall keep on preaching. 

 " But we have plenty birds," says one, " in spite of 

 the gunners." Very true, but not as many as we did 

 have, nor as many as we might have ; and the grub- 

 worms we have more than ever in spite of Paris- 

 green and London-purple. What we want now to 

 know about birds does not call for the shot-gun. 

 Our museums are overstocked and the amateur col- 

 lector is a nuisance. 



