THE REFERENDUM 



287 



scrape or the track of a deer along the river. 

 The shooting had been ruined by three loaf- 

 ers who never worked in their lives. All 

 summer they would beg or steal, and would 

 even beg bacon, when they had deer hung 

 up in the woods. (They played that on us.) 

 They would borrow a mule and wagon and 

 go down into the bottoms with the first frost, 

 and there they would kill till it grew too 

 warm to get their game to the railroad. They 

 lived like hogs, their camp (?) being along- 

 side any old tree that had fallen. One of the 

 three could barely read, but he somehow had 

 the St. Louis game quotations right along. 

 They never ate a bite of game unless it was 

 a squirrel, but they killed off or ran off all 

 the deer and turkey in that section. 



If these three primitive bums could work 

 such a change, what could sober professional 

 market hunters have done? I fear I have 

 made this too long, but I could fill a book 

 with such experiences. There is absolutely 

 one thing to do, and one only, and that is, 

 to stop the sale of game. You can make all 

 the laws you choose. You can prohibit shoot- 

 ing for stated periods. You can hire game 

 wardens galore, but just so long as market 

 hunters can get money for game, so long will 

 it be killed. Stop the sale of game and this 

 will stop shooting, for they have none of the 

 instincts of the true sportsman. They are 

 of no benefit to any community. In all my 

 life I never saw a market hunter who owned 

 his own home. Most of them are worthless 

 in every sense of the word. To stop the sale 

 of game will work a benefit even to them, 

 for they will then have to go to work or 

 starve. Old Timer. 



A PLEA FOR THE PRAIRIE CHICKEN. 



Editor Recreation : 



An eastern drummer asked me recently, 

 "What has become of the prairie chicken? I 

 always heard there were lots of them in Kan- 

 sas." As I answered I saw in my mind the 

 wagon-loads of birds slaughtered for market 

 in years past, and added that the men (?) 

 who had done this had neither sense nor dis- 

 cretion to know when to stop shooting. "Now 

 don't tramp on my toes too heavily," he said. 

 "My father and uncle went out, in what is 

 Sedgwick County now, and shot about 1,500 

 chicken in a trip they made in the winter of 

 1880." 



What does Recreation think of these men? 

 There are quite a lot of chicken in the west- 

 ern part of the state yet, but by the way they 

 are bombarded it will not be many years un- 

 til merely a straggler here and there will be 

 left to tell the tale. Once in a while one is 

 seen here, and I know of one covey in the 

 neighborhood, but the owner kills all but 

 three or four every year, and so they do no 



good. If this covey was protected there 

 would be lots of chicken in a few years, as 

 from twelve to twenty chicks are raised every 

 summer. 



Why can't we get protection for the prairie 

 chicken? Because the law is not enforced 

 here. In years past two separate arrests 

 have been made in the county, one was noti- 

 fied to appear at a certain time for trial. He 

 stayed at home, and that was the last of it. 

 The other men were arrested four times and 

 a fine of $10 imposed once. Do you wonder 

 the chickens are going? 



D. R. Brengle, Perth, Kans. 



CITY BIRDS. 



Editor Recreation : 



In a recent number of Recreation I read 

 an article entitled "The Birds of the City," 

 by C. M. Story, which is so full of miscon- 

 ceptions that I wish to make a mild protest. 

 While I am heartily in sympathy with Mr. 

 Story in his desire for better bird protection 

 and the bringing of song birds nearer to our 

 own homes and cities, I do not agree with 

 his statement that by the growth of civiliza- 

 tion "bird life is being crowded for its very 

 existence." He writes : "There are many 

 varieties which, although rather inclined to 

 solitude, have been driven of late to 

 stringent measures in raising their broods. 

 Take, for instance, the house wren. Former- 

 ly the little nest of sticks and down was 

 placed in a hole in some tree in the woods, 

 then in the apple orchards about the farms 

 as the forests disappeared, and now in hol- 

 low fence rails, and even in cubby holes 

 among the rafters of. old barns. Could there 

 be a more pointed illustration of the way our 

 bird life is being crowded for its very exist- 

 ence?" 



What utter fallacy is this? Mr. Story 

 writes as though all our forests had disap- 

 peared and the birds are thereby forced to 

 nest in or near our dwellings, while the fact 

 is, our forests have by no means disappeared, 

 and actually cover many hundred thousand 

 square miles, and a walk through any patch 

 of woods in this broad land will not show 

 the birds so numerous that there will be any 

 suspicion of there not being woods enough 

 left for them all. Then why is it that some 

 birds have forsaken their original haunts for 

 nesting, and now are found on our farms 

 and in our orchards? Simply because there 

 are better attractions ; i.e., more abundant 

 food and greater protection against their nat- 

 ural enemies. The birds recognize man as 

 the dominant animal and undoubtedly build 

 their nests in his close proximity to escape 

 the crow, jay, red squirrel, mink, weasel and 

 snake, all of which run rampant in the 

 woods, the birds' original nesting place. 

 Then again, the farmer turns over the soil, 



