180 Animal Life 
is scarcely any sight more painful than that of a wild bird either beating its feathers 
against the cage-bars or sitting an object of resigned melancholy. Obviously there is 
less cruelty in keeping birds which have been bred in captivity and have never known 
the feeling of freedom, but into this question we cannot enter here. 
We walk the streets of a town and see windows containing hundreds of tiny 
cages, each with its prisoner; we see the cottage door in the country overhung with 
a roughly-made box, also containing its prisoner. And we ask ourselves—what can we 
do to help? It is a difficult problem. I have tried many different methods, and have 
come to the conclusion there is only one thing we can do—try to arouse a feeling of 
sympathy im the heart of the owner. It is no easy task to accomplish, but ever and 
again one heart may realise the anguish of the captive; and once we touch that chord 
of compassion the rest is easy, for the owner then will wish to set the prisoner 
free—will not rest until the captive is once more winging its way over its native 
field and wood. 
There is a startling contrast between the wild bird at liberty and the wild bird 
caged; but we must enjoy the sight and sound of the former, and endure that of the 
latter ere we can properly realise the distinction. It cannot be adequately described 
on paper—it must be felt. I cannot believe that the man or woman who keeps a skylark 
in a cage has ever realised this difference. They can never have lain in a scented 
meadow on a May morning and abandoned themselves to the contemplation of Nature 
personified in a skylark; cannot have watched it circling up, up, up, till it is lost to 
sight in the blue dome of Heaven, nor have drunk in its glad free song. Would 
they could; for then no such bird would ever suffer at their hands. 
MOORHEN’S NEST. HATCHING. 
