THE PERCHING BirRDs. 87 
glass to aid me counted szxty-three, and every one I 
think was busy grub-hunting. These birds were mi- 
grating northward, but had stopped here to feed, and 
the man who owned that field was highly favored; 
and yet I venture to say that if any loafer had hap- 
pened along with a gun and killed a dozen or more 
of these birds, the owner of the field would not have 
entered a protest. It is this culpable indifference on 
the part of so many farmers, and a fancy that the 
birds take too much fruit, that causes them to cry 
out in despair that the grubs are too much for them 
and farming doesn’t pay, and all that twaddle. Per 
contra, | knew a bird-loving farmer who persistently 
took the law in his own hands and personally arrested 
every bird-shooter, and thrashed them in advance of 
arrest, and the result was his door-yard even was full 
of singing-birds, and people came from the town to 
hear and seethem. This has been preached by others 
since the beginning of the century and has done but 
little good; but I, for one, shall keep on preaching. 
“But we have plenty birds,” says one, “in spite of 
the gunners.” Very true, but not as many as we did 
have, nor as many as we might have; and the grub- 
worms we have more than ever in spite of Paris- 
green and London-purple. What we want now to 
know about birds does not call for the shot-gun. 
Our museums are overstocked and the amateur col- 
lector is a nuisance. 
