296 An American Fruit-Farm 



children — ^will be saying, "Oh, that my fathers had 

 been wise in their generation!" But we are not 

 raising the children of to-morrow — we are killing 

 birds. That is our business; let posterity take care 

 of itself! But here a footnote from your inmost 

 mind: Do you wish that your grandfather, or 

 even your father, had been a little more "fore- 

 sighted '7 Do you blame anybody for using up 

 the forests, for polluting the rivers and streams, 

 for destroying the game, for wasting the resources 

 of the country? No man lives for himself and 

 remains a man. 



The annual tide of bird-life sweeping in upon us 

 is a diminishing tide; every year, smaller; drying 

 up like our rivers and streams; vanishing like our 

 forests. Instead of letting this river of bird-life 

 cleanse our orchards and vineyards, we scatter a 

 pinch of Paris green, spray a tiny stream of Bor- 

 deaux mixture, and do the work ourselves. The 

 birds would like to do it for nothing, and far better 

 than a sprayer. "No, thank you, '* says the fruit- 

 grower; "no birds for me ! If you see a robin in 

 my orchard, 'Off goes his head!' I prefer to kill 

 birds and to scold about wormy fruit and to insist 

 that Congress shall make a handsome appropria- 

 tion to kill the worms. ** "Is not the life more than 

 meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the 

 fowls of the air!" But our eyes are glued to a 

 gun barrel. However, if any person should happen 

 to hand the fruit-grower in the Valley — doubtless 

 in other valleys — a, twelve per cent, bonus on his 



