the first big rush of the white people came. But they were 

 hunted, shot, and trapped without mercy, and very soon they 

 were all gone. And the most of the birds (at least, such as 

 the white people could eat) were slaughtered in like manner. 



"About the time of the close of the last war I noticed that 

 there were not near as many pigeons as there used to be. One 

 day, a few years after that war had ended, a small flock of 

 them came along and lighted on my branches to rest a while. 

 I was glad they did this, for they were the first I had seen for 

 some time, and we had much talk with each other. They 

 told me that not many of them were now left ; that the white 

 men creatures had been killing them by millions ; that they 

 would even go to their nesting homes and with long poles 

 knock down the nests, and take their young ones and kill 

 them and use them for food; that this practice was now 

 carried on so much that they were unable to raise any young, 

 and in the meantime the old birds were being killed in every 

 way and manner that the men people could think of. This 

 little flock seemed to be sad and gloomy, and acted as if they 

 were very tired. They said that they had started out to hunt 

 for a place somewhere far away, where maybe men did not 

 come. After a while they flew away — and I never have seen 

 nor heard of a pigeon since that day. I suppose they are 

 all dead. But the prairie chickens lived longer. They were 

 more cunning than the pigeons, and would hide in the grass 

 so that a man might pass in a few feet of them and not see 

 them. Then the men took to using their dogs to help them. 

 The dogs would smell the birds, and by their actions tell their 

 masters of their presence. Then the men would go to the 

 spot, scare up the birds, and shoot them as they flew. And 

 now the prairie chickens that used to bfe so plentiful here are 

 all dead and gone. There may be some away off in lonesome 

 places, but there are none in this neighborhood. I haven't 

 seen one, nor heard the old-time delightful and thrilling morn- 

 ing ' boom ' of any, for many years. And the pretty, harmless 

 little wood ducks also are now all gone. 



"But the fate of the beautiful paroquets was, I think, the 

 saddest of all. They did not live here all the year 'round, but 



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