THE MOURNING DOVE 91 



To me the Mourning Dove^ has always seemed hke a 

 sacred bird; and, although I could have killed thousands, I 

 never took the life of one. When a very small boy at my 

 mother's knee, she related to me the story of the winged mes- 

 senger which Noah sent out of the ark, over the waste of 

 waters, to look for real estate. She told me that doves were 

 innocent and harmless little birds, and that I must never harm 

 one in the least. Had my good mother issued an injunction 

 covering the whole animal kingdom, I think I would have 

 grown up as harmless to animals as any Hindoo; for her 

 solemn charge regarding doves has always seemed to me as 

 binding as one of the ten commandments. 



I mention this in order to point out to mothers the far- 

 reaching extent of their power in behalf of our wild creatures, 

 and the vast influence which they can easily wield in behalf 

 of birds and mammals in sore need of protection. Is it not a 

 good thing to teach all boys that it is morally wrong {which 

 it is!) to kill wild creatures without reason, mercy and com- 

 mon sense.'* 



The Mourning Dove received its "given" name from the 

 mournful sound of its call-notes. Its sad-voiced "Coo, coo, 

 coo," suggests moaning, and next to the awful, storm-beaten 

 wail of the screech owl, it is, under certain conditions, the 

 most doleful sound uttered by an American bird. I knew 

 one sensitive woman who was so affected by the daily "mourn- 

 ing" of a neighboring Dove that she begged a sportsman to 

 frighten it away. 



Another peculiar fact about this bird is the strange musical 



' Ze-na-i-du'ra ma-crou'ra. Average length, 12 inches. 



