JStrtr-iore 



A BI-MONTHLY MAGAZINE 

 DEVOTED TO THE STUDY AND PROTECTION OF BIRDS 



Official Organ of the Audubon Societies 



Vol. IV July — August, 1902 No. 4 



Concerning the Bad Repute of Whiskey John 



BY FANNIE HARDY ECKSTORM 



Author of 'The Bird Book,' 'The Woodpeckers,' Etc. 



IN these days every bird has his apologist, but I should rather not be 

 the advocate to defend Whiskey John. He is the worst thief, the 

 greatest scoundrel, the most consummate hypocrite abroad in feath- 

 ers, with his Quaker clothes, his hoary head, his look of patriarchal 

 saintliness. He is a thief, a thief, a thief ! 



A friendly bird -lover who would loyally whitewash the character of 

 the arch-fiend provided he were a feathered biped, argues that to admit 

 of birds having a glimmering of moral sense would make them account- 

 able for their actions in cherry- time, and that therefore the negative 

 must be sustained. The vicious circle in the proof appears at once 

 when we bring forward Whiskey Jack as a bird indubitably lacking moral 

 sense, and inquire what would happen if all other birds were equally 

 defective in their ethical notions. The sum of all the charges against 

 Whiskey Jack is that he knows nothing and cares nothing about morals. 

 Whether he does or does not know the difference between meum and 

 tuum, he has a decided preference for what is not his own. He steals 

 from pure love of pilfering, and shows not the slightest compunctions 

 of conscience. He steals not alone to satisfy his own wants, but those 

 of his brothers and sisters and wife's relations, and his third, fourth and 

 fifth cousins, and after that he keeps right on stealing for posterity. He 

 takes not only articles for which he has a use and an appetite, but others 

 which he never saw before, doesn't know the uses of, doesn't like the 

 taste of, and can never learn to enjoy or use. I am willing to share 

 generously my cherries and strawberries with the birds ; I am ready to 

 divide my last meal of bread and meat with them, but I draw the line 

 at allowing any bird to eat my soap. Soap is soap in the Maine woods, 

 forty miles from a store, and even if it were something else it is debatable 



