Arbor and Bird Day Bulletin 



Countless numbers of our broods are poisoned and drowned every 

 year in the process of orchard spraying. 



The English sparrow, mistakenly introduced among us by man, 

 is rapidly crowding out entirely from large sections many charming 

 and valuable members of our race who love the companionship of 

 human beings. 



Great destruction to our kind results from "self-hunting" dogs 

 that raid each rod of ground during our breeding season and devour 

 the eggs and young of all ground nests detected by their keen sense 

 of smell. 



Most ceaseless and universal of these unintentional sources of 

 death with which man surrounds us is the constant presence, in ever 

 increasing numbers, of the army of domestic cats that prey upon us 

 day and night the whole year through. 



In view of the countless perils confronting us, of our helplessness 

 before them and the pain and sorrow which we suffer because of 

 them, we implore your help in creating a way of deliverance through 

 better knowledge of us and of our value, more thoughtfulness for us 

 and more sympathy with our weakness and our love of life. 



In furtherance of these ends, we beg that, just as you annually 

 celebrate your Independence day, July Fourth, we birds, also, may 

 be given each year our national day in court, a day to be called 

 "Birds' Dependence Day," observed in the several states, either April 

 4, the birthday of our good and great friend, John Burroughs, or 

 such other day as may be designated a day wherein our declaration 

 of dependence may be read in schools and clubs and public meetings; 

 slanders against us refuted; our innocence and worth established, 

 and we be enabled to live out our natural lives among you in peace 

 and security. The Birds of America, by Mrs. Granville Ross Pike. 



It's little I can tell 



About the birds in books; 

 And yet I know them well, 



By their music and their looks: 



When May comes down the lane, 

 Her airy lovers throng 

 To welcome her with song, 



And follow in her train: 



Each minstrel weaves his part 

 In that wild-flowery strain, 

 And I know them all again 



By their echo in my heart. 



Henry Van Dyke. 



