44 



The Audubofi Note Book. 



midday roost at ease upon the sands, which are turned 

 to white by the snowy plumage of the beautiful birds. 

 They are innocent little things, doing no harm to any 

 one, and in fair weather serving a useful purpose by 

 often guiding the fishermen to the distant shoals of 

 mackerel or menhaden, while, in foul, the clamor 

 which they make about their sea-girt home warns 

 the sailor of the neighborhood of a dangerous coast. 

 One would think that the terns and the gulls might 

 live here in peace, but it is not so. The hat bird 

 butcher wants their skins, for women will have terns 

 to wear. So he went to Muskeget when the birds 

 were breeding, and the ground was covered with their 

 eggs, or with their helpless downy young, and began 

 his slaughter. For years, too, he kept it up, until 

 the birds became sadly reduced in numbers. 



"At Nantucket, not very far from Muskeget, Mrs. 

 Richard P. White has her summer home. She is 

 deeply interested in all animals, and when she learned 

 of the butchery of these sea birds which add so much 

 to the attractions of life on the shore, she put forth 

 every effort to have it stopped. Often at the sound 

 of a gun she would hurry from the house, and step- 

 ping into her light boat, would row out into the ocean 

 to remonstrate with those who were killing the birds. 

 Hut this after all did but little to put an end to the 

 destruction. So a year ago last autumn she spoke to 

 Mr. Isaac Folger, a gentlemen living in Nantucket, 

 who is greatly interested in birds, and he expended 

 much time and effort in trying to persuade the Mas- 

 sachusetts Legislature to pass a law prohibiting the 

 destruction of the terns up to the first of October each 

 year. Such a law was passed, and this was thought 

 to amount practically to an entire prohibition, for the 

 terns on the first of October are supposed to have 

 started on their journey southward, but it is said that 

 last autumn they did not leave the island until the 

 middle of the month, and that before they started 

 great numbers of them were killed. 



"But it was not enough to secure the passage of this 

 law. The island is some distance from the mainland, 

 and it was evident that some one must be at hand to 

 see that the law was enforced. So Mrs. Wm. Apple- 

 ton, a vice-president of the Audubon Society, con- 

 tributed a liberal sum of money to pay a man for 

 watching over the birds. This he has done, and it is 

 thought that during this past summer, for the first 

 time in many years, the terns were allowed to rear 

 their broods in comparative peace. 



"Mrs. White gives some account of the cruelties 

 which are attendant upon this needless and wholly 

 inexcusable killing. A reliable man who stopped at 

 the island on the day following a visit of the butchers, 

 counted and killed on the ground, sixty birds which 

 were so badly wounded as to be beyond hope of re- 

 covery. Of the number of adult birds slain no esti- 



mate can be formed. To count the birds by cnou, 

 sands would not give an idea of it, we are told. The 

 slaughter amounts to tens of thousands of adults, and 

 besides these, how many nests of starving young and 

 of deserted eggs ? And all this destruction went on 

 so that a few women might wear pretty birds in their 

 hats. It rather shakes one's faith in the tenderhearted- 

 ness of women, does it not?" 



A BLUEJAY'S DROLL ADVENTURE. 



At the east end of my house, in full view from the 

 window, is a bark-covered bird house, cosy and warm 

 against the bricks. The window is in the sitting- 

 room in a second story, and the bird house and its 

 occupants have always been objects of much interest 

 to the inmates of this room. It was first occupied by 

 a charming family of bluebirds, whose advent in the 

 spring was lovingly watched for, and whose sweet 

 notes, cheerie, cheerie, were hailed with delight, for 

 they were real harbingers of spring. 



One fall, after the bluebirds were gone, the Eng- 

 lish sparrows came and took possession of the little 

 house, but the bluebirds returned early the following 

 spring, and routed them without much trouble. How- 

 ever, the succeeding year, when our pets returned, the 

 sparrows had a house full of featherless babies in the 

 bark-covered dwelling, and the bluebirds, after a dis- 

 gusted review of the situation, gave up. and returned 

 no more. We disliked the sparrows, but hated to kill 

 the young ones, and so let them alone. 



One day I saw a fine large bluejay sail by the win- 

 dow, sounding his defiant call, and he lit on the perch 

 which extended from the door of the bird house. 

 Turning his handsome saucy head sideways, he con- 

 centrated the gaze of his large bright eyes on the 

 small aperture which served as a doorway to this 

 feathered home, and peered into its dark recesses. 

 Evidently he saw the young birds, for he immedi- 

 ately put his head in. At once he jerked it out, very 

 much surprised, and then peered in again, for his 

 head had completely filled the small doorway, as a 

 stopper fills a jug's mouth ; it was inky dark inside 

 the bird house, and he evidently could see nothing. 

 He sat for quite a while trying to find out what ailed 

 the bird house, or him ; cocking his head sideways 

 and looking into the hole, then sticking it in quickly, 

 then drawing it out, but never a birdlet did he get. 

 The sparrows all the while kept shrieking and yelling 

 and shouting and threatening him, to judge by their 

 notes, but he sat with all the composure of a philos- 

 opher, and investigated that affair until, catching sight 

 of the laughing faces within the window, he serenely 

 contemplated them a moment, gave a derisive and 

 disdainful note, and flew away — and never did he 



return. 



Ada H. Kki'ley. 



