258 THE STORY OF A BIRD LOVER 



ing. Even when the eggs are laid, the old birds 

 will often abandon them if slightly alarmed. 

 When the helpless young are in the nest noth- 

 ing short of catastrophe will induce their deser- 

 tion. The parental instinct and affection is now 

 strongest; the perpetuation of kind, the great 

 achievement of all life, is about to be accom- 

 plished. The consummation of that end, on 

 which is based the strongest and most funda- 

 mental of animal passions, is about to be fulfilled. 

 This is the time and season chosen by the plume 

 hunter for his harvest. Now he realizes that the 

 cries of the young birds, hungry in their nests, 

 will surely bring the parents back at short inter- 

 vals, no matter how frequently disturbed and 

 frightened away. To accomplish his object more 

 surely he avails himself of modern contrivances 

 for killing. The almost noiseless Flobert rifle, 

 with its tiny charge to speed the fatal ball, the 

 gun whose report is hardly louder than the snap- 

 ping of a twig, is his weapon. Stationed within 

 ten or twelve feet of a nest both parents are 

 secured in a few moments, and then the next 

 pair are dealt with in the same way. Continuous 

 work of this kind from daylight to dark results 

 in two things, a vast pile of carcasses of the dead 

 parents, stripped of their beautiful plumes, and 

 thousands of young birds left to starve to death 

 in misery in their nests. 



