The California Condor 



man a potential killer, an agent of destruction with an ever increasing 

 range of power, the thoughtless and the weak-minded have taken delight 

 in slaughter. And the nobler the victim the louder the guffaw when he 

 fell a crumpled mass of feathers — that was all. A dead Condor could win 

 a moral beggar a momentary applause at the local hardware store ; but a 

 Condor wantonly slain was a dead epic, a treasure-laden galleon "spurlos 

 versenkt," and an indictment of a civilization false at the core. 



Again, the early prospectors found that the great wing-quills of the 

 Condor made convenient receptacles for carrying gold dust. Hundreds 

 fell, no doubt, before this trifling excuse, which has been paraded on every 

 page of history where the Condor is mentioned. Lastly, the exactions of 

 science have added their quota to the mortal agonies of a dying race. I 

 make no comment upon the exceptional privileges granted to some of our 

 leading museums. Such monumental records, conscientiously prepared, 

 are suitable and necessary; but in the Nineties of the last century and in 

 the early years of this, when the word went out that the Condor was "get- 

 ting scarce," every bird-stuffer and every village junk-pile, dubbed mu- 

 seum, saw to it that it got its share. The oologists rallied to the fray, and 

 the less scrupulous of their number, not content with one or two speci- 

 mens, set out to get all they might while the getting was good. The get- 

 ting, we are told, is no longer good. The race, never prolific, since a pair 

 of birds produce only an egg in a season, is now falling below the breeding 

 level. The social incentive for reproduction is wanting. Hunted crea- 

 tures do not breed. 



But, understand, I blame no one. Blaming never did any good, 

 anyhow. What people do of their own free will gets done, and the rest 

 goes undone. Legal protection? But what is the law except a crystal- 

 lized expression of public opinion? If its expression happens to synchro- 

 nize with the workings of the public conscience, well and good. The law 

 becomes a motto. If its promulgation anticipates by too much the ad- 

 vancement of the public conscience, the law is ignored, evaded, or openly 

 flouted. Or, again, if the statutory expression lags behind the public 

 mind, the enactment is futile: it simply reiterates the commonplace. 

 Law, then, is not a remedy, but a record of progress. And progress has 

 to come from the inside. But whether we blame or withhold our blame, 

 the Condor is the loser. Perhaps it was all impossible. Civilization will 

 eventually abolish carrion — that goes without saying — and the Condor, if 

 he stayed, would have had to draw his belt tighter and tighter. You see 

 the end. Perhaps these very unconscious forces of destruction, blind, 

 selfish, irresponsible, were ordained in mercy. 



In the last place we note that there is a widespread opinion that the 

 disappearance of the Condor was occasioned by the use of poison. The 



!734 



