224 



RECREATION. 



WHY BIRDS DECREASE. 



Pleasantville, N. Y. 



Editor Recreation: Mr. Hornaday did 

 not send me his circular of inquiry anent 

 the destruction of American birds. Still, I 

 am nothing if not obliging, and I volunteer 

 an answer to his third question, " What 

 agency (or class of men) has been most 

 destructive to the birds? " 



The way I got my information on the 

 subject is this: For a number of years I 

 had been trying to make a collection of 

 eggs of the birds of this country. I had 

 made fair progress, without buying, selling 

 or exchanging an egg, when, unfortunately 

 for the end in view, I acquired the habit of 

 reading Recreation. Naturally, I soon 

 saw the error of my way, fell under convic- 

 tion and joined the L. A. S. Wearing the 

 badge of that order I could not view with 

 the same equanimity as before the prospect 

 of being haled to the calaboose for'robbing 

 birds' nests. 



However, I was not so unsophisticated 

 as to suppose that because I was virtuous 

 there should be no more skins and eggs. 

 In a moment of moral lassitude I conceived 

 the idea of buying the eggs I was too 

 conscientious to steal. I obtained copies 

 of ornithological journals and corre- 

 sponded with the worthies who advertise 

 therein. In return, I received a fund of in- 

 formation and the moral bracer under the 

 influence of which I now write. 



I learned that there are periodicals 

 monthly tooting the loud, glad clarion of 

 bird protection, while deriving their prin- 

 cipal income from advertising the sale and 

 exchange of the mortal remains of the ob- 

 jects of their solicitude. Among their con- 

 tributors and advertisers I was surprised to 

 find names of some who, in Recreation, 

 cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war upon 

 the naughty game hog. 



But it was the bulletins of the dealers that 

 clinched my reformation. One reads: " In 

 -order to reduce my immense stock I will 

 sell nicely prepared skins of goldfinches, 

 buntings and sparrows at 7 cents each." 

 To kill a bird because you want its skin 

 is bad enough; but to kill one for a measly 

 7 cents is sordid rascality. And these men 

 allude to themselves as scientists and 

 ornithologists! One embryo Audubon in- 

 forms me that " all (his) specmens are pre- 

 pared acording to the direcsions of latest 

 authoraty (Hornaday's Manuel)." If his 

 specimens are as unique as his orthography 

 they should fetch a great price. I have a 

 score of circulars offering bird skins from 7 

 cents and eggs from 2 cents up, and ex- 

 pressing willingness to buy them at still 

 lower rates. 



The most exasperating part of the busi- 

 ness is that these men coolly assume to be 

 furthering the interests of science; where- 

 as they are merely lining their own dirty 



pockets and damning their own infinites- 

 imal souls. 



I think, Mr. Hornaday, that these men 

 and boys, coddled as fledgling scientists 

 under the fostering wing of the American 

 Ornithologists' Union, are largely respon- 

 sible for the decrease of our birds. 



G. A. Mack. 



A MORNING WITH THE BIRDS. 



Columbus, O. 

 Editor Recreation: While this region, 

 2 miles West of the city, is not haunted by 

 game of any value, song birds, in great 

 variety, abound. In a short walk the other 

 morning I saw over a dozen I could name, 

 and others I am yet unacquainted with. My 

 path' led along a small, deeply shaded 

 stream, beyond which lay a belt of swampy 

 ground covered with bushes and small trees 

 on which the leaves were just unfolding. 

 On the opposite side of the path the coun- 

 try stretched away in broad, level acres of 

 young clover and freshly plowed fields. At 

 frequent intervals meadow larks flew up and 

 went skimming over the fields in their loop- 

 ing flight, some alighting on the ground 

 to run along with their alert heads above 

 the clover. The swamp proved a veri- 

 table rendezvous of the birds. Brown 

 thrushes flitted in the under brush, expos- 

 ing now and then their dainty, spotted 

 breasts; Baltimore orioles made dots of 

 brilliant orange and glossy black in the 

 higher branches; cat birds, of somberer 

 hue but no less active of voice and wing, 

 played along the water's edge; while a pair 

 of red birds (scarlet tanagers) attracted the 

 eye with their unusual color. What would 

 the woods be without the birds? They 

 would seem as empty as a dance-hall with- 

 out the dancers or a schoolroom without 

 the children. Besides the birds named, I 

 noted a house wren, a mourning dove, a 

 mocking bird and a crow. While returning 

 along the path and thinking I would see no 

 more birds that morning, a most melodious 

 little song burst out behind me, and look- 

 ing around I saw the trim body of a song 

 sparrow. On the higher ground about here 

 are numbers of blue jays and 3 species of 

 wood peckers — the golden-wing, the showy 

 red-head, and the less conspicuous downy. 

 The clear, resilient notes of the Wilson's 

 thrush, or veery, are often heard in the 

 early mornings and at sundown — the same 

 beautiful tones that ring from the swamps 

 and wooded hillsides of New England. An- 

 other bird common in the East I have oc- 

 casionally heard hereabouts — the white- 

 throated sparrow, or Peabody bird. Early 

 one morning I discovered, in a mountain 

 birch on the lawn, a night hawk perching 

 lengthwise of a limb. Coming again late 

 in the afternoon I found him slumbering 

 in exactly the same position, evidently 

 dreaming of the sport he would soon have 

 in the twilight. R. B. Rood. 



