248 PUBLIC PARKS OF IOWA 



quacking others of the birds would rise laborously up through the trees 

 and make off northward until they were lost in the rosy depths of the 

 sky. And still they came, immense flocks of them streaming northward 

 'with joyous honks and quacks heralding the morning, the springtime, 

 and proclaiming the grand goodness of life. And as the ducks and geese 

 came northward, as every bend in the magnificent river afforded rest and 

 shelter for the waterfowl, as the sandbars were crowded with the Ca- 

 nadian geese choosing their mates and making ready for the new season, 

 the song birds also voiced their gladness and as the sun's rays gradually 

 dispelled the white mists of the river and the deep gloom of the heavily 

 wooded shores, the whole grand chiorus of robins, blackbirds, and a 

 myriad of others hardy enough to go northward with the ducks, chirruped 

 and caroled the gladness of the morning. It was a wonderful sight 

 a -glorious experience for those w(ho saw it and heard it and felt it. Truly 

 it must have seemed the dawn of creation itself when the great creator 

 made the earth and sky, the rivers and the sea, and peopled them all 

 with a glorious throng. 



But will it ever be seen in Iowa again? Will it ever be heard or felt 

 or experienced? The elk and the buffalo are gone, and the antelope are 

 no more in Iowa and probably never will be. And the feathered throng 

 of waterfowl and songsters that come up the river in the spring have 

 dwindled to sadly decimated numbers, and the glory and the freedom of 

 the new day has very largely departed. The ducks and geese now come 

 in scattered flocks, the song of birds has decreased in volume, the 

 woods along the shore have in a large measure disappeared, and the river 

 itself is not the mighty and full flowing stream that it used to be. The 

 pigeons that once were seen in greater numbers than even the waterfowl 

 have vanished from the face of the earth. They will never be seen again. 



The pioneer who first stepped on Iowa soil stepped on a promised 

 land. He saw it in its primitive, elemental glory. The hawthorn and wild 

 crabapple trees were in bloom, the grass of the prairie extended west- 

 ward in gentle undulations like a wonderful lawn interspersed with 

 clumps of budding and flowering trees. Over the soggy prairie the wild 

 swan winged his way, and in the evening glow of sunset could be made 

 out flocks of sandhill cranes laborously winging their way northward, 

 while their gutteral but musical notes came faintly to the ear from a' 

 great height in the soft spring air. In the morning when the sun again 

 flooded this new land with light, the booming of prairie chickens could 

 be heard on every hand, and flocks of them could be seen swiftly flying 

 from one part of the prairie to another. The marshes and lakes were 

 being filled with waterfowl that stopped in Iowa to spend the summer 

 and raise the young ducklings which should add their number to the al- 

 ready multitudinous numbers that flew over the fair land of Iowa. 



The pioneer came into a promised land but he was greedy for the 

 treasures that the land offered and thinking that such incredible numbers 

 of wild creatures could never be destroyed and thinking that such bound- 

 less acres could never lose their fertility and thinking that such great 

 stretches of woodland could never be cut down, he began with all his 

 might to slay and destroy and confiscate. The result is that we have a 



