THE OOLOGIST 



147 



Pennsylvania for over 40 years, 

 though they have been doctored and 

 tinkered more or less nearly every 

 year. You have had a game warden 

 system for something like 25 years 

 and you have paid out nearly a mil- 

 lion dollars for salaries for game com 

 missioners and game wardens. And 

 what have you got to show for it? 

 You have but a pitiable remnant of 

 the wild life that was here when the 

 pioneers came and the indications are 

 that if matters go as they have been 

 going, you will not have a single bird 

 left in the state, or in the United 

 States for that matter, at the end of 

 ten yeare more. 



Now I claim that it is time to dis- 

 pense with game laws. It is time to 

 stop the issuance of hunting licenses. 

 It is time to abolish the game com- 

 missions entirely and to require the 

 sportsmen to lay away their guns, at 

 least for a long term of years. They 

 have had heir innings for 40 years 

 past, and the birds have gradually 

 dwindled, and dwindled and dwindled, 

 until today there are scarcely 100 left 

 in any county. 



The remedy is simply and solely 

 this : 



That the farmers and land owners 

 everywhere, must post their lands, 

 prohibit all shooting thereon, and pro- 

 tect the remaining few birds under 

 the law of eminent domain. 



In recommending this drastic pro- 

 cess I am opposing my own tastes 

 and inclinations, as well of those of 

 thousands of other men. I was for 40 

 years an ardent sportsman. I almost 

 grew up with a gun in my hands, and 

 no man on earth is today more fond 

 of seeing a good dog work in the field 

 than I am. No man is more fond of 

 making a good shot, or a good double 

 shot on the wing than I am. No man 

 is more fond of a hot bird and a cold 

 bottle of buttermilk on his table than 



I am. 



But I reformed years ago. I have 

 not killed a bird in 30 years, and 

 shall never kill another. I quit all 

 shooting because I had learned that 

 birds are too valuable to be killed for 

 food or for fun. So, when I laid aside 

 my gun I took up the camera and 

 have been doing my hunting with that 

 ever since; and I have had more fun 

 with it in one day than I ever had 

 with a gun in a whole month. — San 

 Jose Mercury.— W. A. Strong, San 

 Jose, Cal. 



MY VACATION OF 1914. 



The sun was just coming over the 

 Eastern mountains when the train 

 pulled in to the station called Cisco, 

 elevation 6,900 feet, in the midst of 

 the great snowsheds along the South- 

 ern Pacific Railroad over the Sierra 

 Nevada Mountains. 



Descending a steep incline I 

 reached the hotel which was to be my 

 field for observations for following two 

 weeks; only one of the workmen was 

 about at this hour and the fire which 

 he had built surely felt good to me, 

 for at this altitude even tho it was 

 June, the early morning air had a 

 tinge of frost in it which was quite 

 different from down in the valleys. 

 I soon learned that breakfast was 

 served at 6:30 so I attempted no field 

 work but contented myself by gather- 

 ing what information I could about 

 the country from the hotel employee. 



Promptly after breakfast I started 

 afield and as I went down a canyon 

 leading from the hotel to the river 

 some three-fourths miles away I heard 

 many familiar bird notes, perhaps the 

 most common being that of the fam- 

 ous songster, the Thick-billed Spar- 

 row which seemed to come from all 

 sections of the surrounding country. 

 At this time of year the male bird 

 mounts to the top of some small tree 



