BIRDS OF PEASEMARSH 



knowing that by its calling it would attract 

 others to it and they could then be shot. 



What did these hunters care for the little ones 

 left to call vainly for mothers that would never 

 come again? Night came on and no mothers' 

 wings were spread protectingly over them. The 

 cold grey morning came and they called again 

 more faintly, and still more faintly, until they 

 were too weak to be heard. Soon they, too, were 

 dead. But what did the men care ? They were 

 to receive a few paltry dollars, and thoughtless 

 women would wear the feathers taken from the 

 dead parents of the dead baby birds. 



There have been lonely islands where beauti- 

 ful birds have made their homes, changing the 

 dull rocks and sands to a spot of beauty and 

 song. Market hunters have found them out 

 and visited the islands, leaving them desolate 

 spots, strewn with the mutilated bodies of the 

 once lovely feathered creatures. And all this 

 change because the feathers are used for 

 millinery purposes and desired by women who 

 ignorantly fancy they make them more at- 

 tractive. 



The story of the beautiful Heron and the 

 story of the Snowy Egret, whose feathers are 

 [162] 



