THE FOWLS OF THE FARM II5 
resting place. One generation of Americans found the 
pigeons in “inexhaustible supply:’’ the next saw them 
vanish—vanish, so quickly that few museums even sought 
to keep specimens of their skins or their nests or their eggs; 
the third generation (which we represent) marvels at the true 
tales of their aforetime abundance, and at the swiftness of 
their passing; and it allows the process of extermination to go 
ononly a little more slowly, with other fine native species. 
The waterfowl have fared a little better. Their migratory 
habits have kept most of them, except at the season of their 
coming and going, out of the way of the pot-hunter. In their 
summer breeding grounds in the far north, andin their winter 
feeding grounds in the far south they have been exposed mainly 
to those natural enemies with which they were fitted to cope. 
Yet, before the fusillade of lead that has followed their every 
flight across our borders their ranks have steadily thinned. 
Their size and conspicuousness (and consequent ability to 
gratify the hunter’s zeal for big game) seem to be determining 
the order of their passing. The swans have disappeared: 
the geese are nearly gone: rarely do we hear their honk, 
honk overhead in springtime; and the wild ducks appear in 
our Cayuga skies in ever-lessening numbers. Who that 
has grown up in a land of abundant wild fowl, has known 
them as heralds of summer and winter, has seen them coming 
out of the north and disappearing into the south, has not 
marvelled at the swiftness, strength and endurance of their 
flight, and been uplifted with enthusiasm as he watched their 
well-drilled V-shaped companies, cleaving the sky in lines of 
perfect alignment and spacing. Our literature testifies 
abundantly to the inspiration of this phenomenon. How 
much poorer will our posterity be if these signs are to dis- 
appear from our zodiac! 
The terrestrial wild fowl have vanished also; especially 
those that, like the wild turkey, were large enough to be 
