258 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



chilly Autumn morning, hoping for the appearance of the bird he longs 

 to possess. He gives a few shrill decoy calls which deceive an incau- 

 tious Jay whose answering cries announce its near approach. A glim- 

 mer of blue, black and white flashes across the bright autumnal foliage. 

 Instantly the gun is at the shoulder. As the echo of the report rattles 

 through the woods something is seen to fall faster than the falling- 

 leaves. The Jay is gathered to his father's. The boy has won his long 

 coveted prize at last. Who can describe the ecstacy which follows that 

 fatal shot — the delight of that misguided boy as he gloats over his fallen 

 victim. There it lies in beauty between two moss grown rocks. The 

 barred tail and wings broadly spread, the dark eyes open, moist and slow- 

 ly glazing. The benighted assassin whoops and dances with delight in 

 the exuberance of youth and hugs his miserable apology for a gun. 

 Then the method of the naturalist asserts itself and he draws forth note 

 book and pencil, but not content with merely making the usual entries he 

 attempts to transfer his feelings to paper, and here is what we may yet 

 read in the old note book. "Aha old robber! Destroyer of young 

 birds, thy race is run. Never again wilt steal the farmers corn. Thou 

 hast died as a bold robber should with thy boots on." Here a long 

 pause ensues for the silence of the woods is broken by the mournful 

 cry of the slain Jays mate. At her call charity, pity and mercy have 

 come as tardy guests. The written page goes on "Still although thou 

 art an outlaw, proscribed by man, perhaps thou hadst as good right to 

 life as I. Alas all is done. Regrets are vain. Farewell to earth, thou 

 forest planter. Farewell now to the wooded hillside, to summer's sun 

 and winter's snow. In the evening shades thy mate shall call among 

 the falling leaves like a mournful spirit, searching long through the 

 darkling woods which shall never know thee more." 



So it was in those days. Those of us who studied the living bird at 

 all studied it first over the sights of a gun and then measured and dis- 

 sected the bleeding corpse, prepared the skin, duly labelled it and called 

 our duty done. Consideration of the rights of the bird came afterward,. 

 if at all. Today all is changed. The few "collectors" are in the sad 

 minority, the work of the systematist is largely done. Now we look 

 at the living birds through an opera glass and study their habits- 

 afield, and our most trusted weapon is the camera. The Blue Jay 

 skin shot so long ago still rests in a glass case, and the boy^ 

 now the father of other boys, teaches them to use more modern 

 weapons of his craft. Now instead of luring the Jay to its death, 

 we disarm its apprehensions by acting the part of protector, ben- 

 factor, and friend. We assume that attitude toward it which makes it 

 an associate in our daily walks and occupations. Render the bird un- 



