THE GAME FIELD 
on its track and then the chipmunk perched 
itself on a stone and, sitting up on its haunches, 
inspected the grass on all sides and continued 
its watch for a quarter of an hour or more; but 
the frog never betrayed its hiding place by a 
move until its bloodthirsty enemy had given up 
the chase. A few years ago I saw a large chip- 
munk spring upon a big garter snake and, 
although the latter wound its sinuous body all 
around its captor, the chipmunk paid no atten- 
tion to the fact, but quickly severed the snake’s 
head from its squirming body and then, sitting 
up and holding the reptile’s head in its hands, 
after the manner of a nut, calmly ate it, bones 
and all. 
I have offered fish to chipmunks, but this is 
about the only food I ever knew them to reject> 
DAN BEARD. 
In Camp, Pike County, Pa. 

Wallace Is Appreciated 
Since the adjournment of the Alabama 
Democratic Convention, which passed a reso- 
lution demanding a general law for the preserva- 
tion, protection and propagation of birds and 
fish of the State, hundreds of letters indorsing 
the movement have been received by John H. 
Wallace, Jr., president of the recently organized 
Alabama Game and Fish Protective Association. 
The bill that will be offered amounts to merely a 
petition on the part of the sportsmen and lovers 
of wild life of the State to the Alabama Legisla- 
ture to legalize their efforts to preserve the few 
remaining species from extinction and to pay 
for so doing, and not put the State to one dollar 
of expense in the accomplishment of this great 
and valuable economic result. Notable among 
the communications from distinguished per- 
sonages is a letter from Mrs. Virginia Clay 
Clopton, one of the most brilliant women of the 
South and perhaps the most famous. Mr. Wal- 
lace, in thanking RECREATION for aid extended 
in the organizing of the new association, sends 
us a copy of Mrs. Clopton’s letter, which we 
quote: 
Glancing over the Gurley Herald, I read with 
interest the paragraph relative to the noble efforts 
you are making to save the lives of the beautiful, 
innocent, sinless portion of God’s creation, unable 
to protect themselves against the ruthless and un- 
ceasing and fatal war waged upon them by black 
and white ruffians. I heartily thank you for the 
attempt you are making to preserve them in the 
land. Earnestly hoping you may succeed in 
securing the passage of any law you may desire, 
but sadly fear that even legislation will not avail 
because of failure to enforce the law, as is so 
frequently the case. 

GATHERING HICKORY NUTS—JACK FROST THROWS 
THE MOST UNERRING CLUB 
When my husband and myself settled in this 
little home, ‘ Wildwood,” cutting away the 
muscadine and grape vines, blackberry bushes and 
other growth, the beautiful hilltops seemed a 
veritable concert room for the feathered songsters 
of the woods. The blue bird, ‘‘sweet harbinger of 
spring,’ now extinct, the gorgeous red bird, the 
precious little wren, whose note is liquid melody, 
the gaudy blue jay in his Tuxedo and white vest, 
the mockingbird, “‘the. Yorick of the forests,” the 
innocent catbird; indeed, all the birds daily flew 
down fearlessly and drank at the chicken trough 
in my yard. Then perching in the nearest trees, 
would bubble out such a flood of melody, such 
sweet notes of glad joy, they seemed to return a 
thanksgiving for the privilege. Now, alas! in this 
degenerate age there is scarce a bird to be seen or 
heard in my enclosure of one acre. The heartless 
white boy, with as little soul or sense as the sable 
“warlock of the glen,” and the freedman are both 
on the warpath with every invention known of 
firearms from the old flintlock musket to the finest 
rifle. From January to January they are busy 
murdering not only the quail or partridge, but the 
tiny singing birds regardless of mating time or 
nesting time, oblivious of the great benefit of the 
sweet helpers to the gardens or the fields. To post 
one’s land is an invitation to the intruders. 
Nothing but the strictest enforcement of the 
strictest laws will leave a bird in Alabama. I have 
had shots fired so close to my dwelling that the shot 
fell in the lap of a member of my family seated 
under a tree in the yard. The squirrels once 
gambled in my trees; I never see one now alive. 
Please use all your logic and all your eloquence, 
expend and expand yourself on this theme. Were 
I a man I would go to Montgomery and make a 
/plea in behalf of this God-given but perishing 
colony. I am so indignant at the wholesale 
destruction of birds that I could not resist the 
impulse of my heart to send you this hasty but 
hearty approval of your great work. 
