May 0, 1886.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



made life a burden grievous to bear. Lastly, that unhappy 

 cook tried swathing himself head and ears in his blanket. 

 This was more nearly effective than anything else, but when 

 the blanket was drawn snugly enough to keep out the insects 

 breathing became very difficult, ana at the least opening for 

 air they swarmed in with fresh vigor. 



The cook wilted. "Captain," "he said, "I think I am 

 beaten." 



And the skipper responded, "I told you so," a phrase that 

 has comforted the afflicted since the days of Job. 



All night that miserable cook sat on the port quarter of the 

 sharpie, swabbing himself with strong brine and smoking 

 strong tobacco. His only consolation was in watching the 

 countless schools of fish that were every minute leaping and 

 slapping about the vessel; and this soon became monotonous; 

 it was the same thing over and over again; first, a slowly 

 advancing, phosphorescent wave, suddenly breaking into 

 thousands of gliuting, shining white sparkles as the redfish 

 charged the mullet, the tarpon made a dash at both, and the 

 sharks wound up the confusion by dashing at the whole on 

 general principles; then silence. 



"ADd this," mused the cook, "is going on this very hour 

 all along the gulf coast, and has been going on daily for God 

 knows how many centuries. And yet, the mullets kept 

 their numbers good until the arch destroyer — man, the white 

 man — entered the lists with modern appliances and inven- 

 tions for scooping the luckless fish by millions. Already 

 the oldest and most observant of the old fishermen along the 

 coast will testify that the supply of mullet has diminished 

 more than one-half, and there is no more need of the law 

 against using the mullet as manure. The difficulty at present 

 is to get sufficient for the food supply ; and the coast fisheries 

 often fail in that. And like the salmon and brook trout of 

 the East, or even the mackerel and lobster, the mullet must 

 go. 



' 'It is not that the strong devour the weak, or the big fish 

 eat the little ones; that is Nature's law of compensations, and 

 her balances always hang level. The savage man lives for 

 the most part on fish and game, but Nature counts him in as 

 a leading factor, and the woodfolk and water kelpies keep 

 their numbers good For long centuries — until civilized men 

 come to the front, and then? They vanish like the mists of 

 the morning, in spite of all laws for their preservation. It 

 is true that from the days of Pharaoh to the present time 

 the strong have devoured the weak, — and— dammit," he 

 interjected, as a black cloud of mosquitoes fresh from the 

 nearest key swept into his face, "the weak have had their 

 innings about as often. But lice and frogs are respectable 

 compared with key mosquitoes. I wonder is the afterguard 

 Teally asleep, or only shamming?" 



For the skipper had swathed himself tightly from crown 

 to heels in that wonderful blanket with the blue check and 

 was stretched to his full length on the after house, snoring 

 peacefully. Lying on his back, with his feet elevated per- 

 pendicularly, he looked in the dim starlight like an Indian 

 mound, with a pair of headstones at the wrong end of it. 

 "When he is sufficiently asphyxiated," muttered the cook, 

 "I'll roll him overboard." But he did not asphyxiate. He 

 had served time on a North Sea whaler and had studied the 

 mysteries of suffocation in Esquimau igloos; wherefore, 

 after sleeping for more than an hour he was able to emerge 

 in a fresh condition, considering the weather, and to take a 

 smoke, a cooling wash in the sea water, and another nap. 

 This he repeated at least three times before a faint rosy glow 

 in the east gave "hint that the sun would shortly come that 

 way." Then he arose like a giant refreshed, folded the mar- 

 vellous blanket, and prepared to get the sharpie under way, 

 while the cook started a fire in the sand-box and brewed a 

 pot of strong, black coffee. 



It is five miles from the head of Big Pass to the anchorage 

 off the bluffs of Clearwater Harbor, and with a light sea 

 breeze the sharpie glided over the smooth bay like a white- 

 winged ghost, and turned to look at her anchor with the 

 ease and grace f a — wild goose. 



Then the cook paddled ashore in the light canoe, intent on 

 getting even. Skirmishing along the bluff among the live 

 oaks be soon gathered a supply of dry punk, and came back 

 prepared to rout the enemy by final and effective smudging. 

 Something like a peck of dry, pulverized mulch was built 

 into a pyramid on the biggest frying-pan, moistened with 

 sea water, set on fire and taken below, chock forward to the 

 eyes. Below decks the air was turgid with the little black 

 demons, and there was an incessant metallic, low hum, like 

 the sighing of a harp string. But it did not last. Never 

 since the first decked vessel was launched was the hold of a 

 ship more thoroughly filled with a dense volume of smoke 

 than was the cabin of the sharpie on that morning. The 

 key mosquito can stand more smudging than any other 

 winged insect; but there is a point beyond endurance even 

 for him. Slowly, in a black, buzzing cloud the enemy rose 

 through the fore hatch or fell back en masse through the 

 companion way. He hung like a dark mist on the quarter 

 of the vessel for awhile; but it came too thick, and with 

 heartfelt reluctance he let go and drifted landward. 



The cook took heart of grace to get up a good breakfast, 

 and willingly fell in with the proposition of a final run ashore 

 at Clearwater; for there were some old coasters whom he 

 wished to interview, and the skipper had kindly agreed to 

 look them up for an introduction — the mode of which, as it 

 struck the cook, was, to say the least, a trifle unique. It 

 was about like this: "Cap'n Topliff, let me make you ac- 

 quainted with my friend 'Nessmuk,' who is down here for a 

 cruise in the lightest canoe ever built of cedar. He and I 

 represent the two extremes — the Head and the Tail — of Ameri- 

 can canoeing." 



"H'ni-m," mused the cook, "He and I, the Head and the 

 Tail." 



"Very good; but it must be 'wery self denyin' o' you,' 

 this constant allusion to yourself as "The Tail,' my dear 

 captain." 



Clearwater has natural advantages which render it very 

 popular as a winter resort, not only for Northerners, but for 

 Southern people as well, who come there from malarial dis- 

 tricts to recuperate. It is high, dry, healthy, and has the 

 unusual advantage, for a gulf coast town, of being easily ac- 

 cessible by water. It is handy to some of the finest keys, 

 and also to good shooting for beach birds. But the hunting 

 for deer, turkey and even quail is poor. There are two good 

 hotels and — high prices. 



A well-known Boston yachtsman sums up the advantages 

 of Clearwater Harbor about like this: "I like Clearwater be- 

 cause it has the finest outlook of any town on the coast; 

 there is capital sailing, either inside the keys or on the open 

 gulf, and it is a place you can always get away from," 



Late in the day the skipper and cook met on board the 

 sharpie and prepared to stand up the coast with the flood 

 tide. The former had visited all his Clearwater acquaint- 



ances; the latter had buttonholed every old coaster, wrecker 

 and sponger at all available, and had listened to some strange 

 yarns ; what is more, he had believed them. As a rule, the 

 old coaster is the most prosaic, matter-of-fact, unimaginative 

 being you can meet on the outskirts of civilization. Mud 

 flats, mangrove swamps and saw-grass marshes are not con- 

 ducive of romance. It takes a mountain man to develop a 

 grand lie. The ghost of Munchausen dwells in the Booties. 



As the sharpie glided quietly aloug the coast while the sun 

 was making a very creditable exit behind the tumbling 

 breakers beyond the keys, the skipper asked with a grin: 

 "And where shall we anchor to-night?" And the cook 

 answered, sadly: "Anywhere, anywhere — off from the 

 keys." Nessmuk. 



Tarpon Springs, Fla., Aug. 25, 1885- April 10, 1880. 



THE BIRD AND MAIDEN. 



[Inscribed to the Audubon Socikt?.] 

 QWEETLY in the quietude 

 ^ Of a leafy solitude. 



In the after glow of day, 

 Like an angelus of old time, 

 Echoed clear a rippling rhyme 



From a song bird on a spray. 



And a maiden came, demurely, 

 To the woody way securely, 



As in cloister walks the nun, 

 And she heard with no evadence 

 Every trill and every cadence, 



'Mid the shadows falling dim. 



Plaintive grew the wilding note 

 From the pretty singer's throat, 



Pensive grew the maiden's mien— 

 Now she paused with look aghast, 

 As the startled bird flew past 



And no more was heard or seen. 



From her head a branch had riven, 



And a vengeful toss had given, 

 Hat on which a bird was placed : 



Bird like that whose vesper song 



Lured her feet thus far along- 

 Stood the maiden as disgraced. 



For she reck'd the cruel fashion. 

 That with her had grown a passion, 



Thus to wear the sweet birds slain, 

 And by contrite pangs reproved, 

 Tenderly the bird removed 



From the hat where it had lain. 



Then a grave she deftly made it, 

 And within she gently laid it, 



In the silent sylvan shade. 

 And. returning thence she pondered 

 Of the lives her sex had squandered, 



Of the desolation made I 



Prithee, women, look and listen 

 Where the dew-sprent daisie3 glisten, 



■Where the woodland shadows fall I 

 Miss ye not the flash of wing, 

 Miss ye not the gladsome ring 



Of the birds' entrancing call? 



Pitiful and plaintive note 



Ye may hear from hermit throat— 



'Tis the requiem for the lost! 

 O forsake thy cruel quest, 

 Spare the birds and guard the nest, 



Or ye cannot count the cost. O. W. R. 



THE AUDUBON SOCIETY. 



ALTHOUGH the movement set on foot by this Society 

 for the protection of our birds is universally approved 

 as a whole, every clause of our pledges is objected to in turn 

 by the offenders against that particular clause. The boys 

 who find their recreation in bird nesting, and who flatter 

 themselves that making cellections of eggs is a scientific 

 pursuit, approve warmly of pledges one and three, but sug- 

 gest that bird nesting for scientific purposes should be ex- 

 empted. Another body of our supporters suggest that 

 pledge one should exempt all noxious birds, by which is gen- 

 erally understood hawks, vultures, owls, crows, jays, etc , 

 while many ladies are not without a protest against what 

 they consider the too arbitrary provisions of the third 

 pledge. Some of them are content with claiming exemption 

 in respect of the feathers alreadv in use, a claim with which 

 one can sympathize readily in all cases in which discarding 

 their feathers involves an expenditure of importance to the 

 persons concerned; but others go further, and argue that 

 although it is a shame to sacrifice ten million birds annually 

 to meet the demands of fashion, it were a sin and a shame, 

 now that a year's stock of skins has been accumulated, that 

 the ten million lives needlessly sacrificed should be sacrificed 

 in vain. These last plead of course that existing stocks 

 should be utilized, and further slaughter put a stop to by 

 penal legislation. To the reply that penal legislation will be 

 ineffectual, as long as the demand is continuous, they turn 

 a deaf ear. They understand reason of course — what Amer- 

 ican woman does not? — but they will not listen to it. 



The Audubon Society has set itself a great task, but it 

 i3 evident that it can achieve nothing if it yield to every 

 plea for exemption. It is not a body of unreasoning sen- 

 timentalists ; the movement was inaugurated by scientific 

 men on purely economic grounds. They see evil, very seri- 

 ous evil, threatening to amount to a national calamity in the 

 annual destruction of from ten to twenty millions of birds to 

 gratify the passing vagaries of the generation. They have 

 not taken up the question as to whether there is anything 

 shocking, cruel, or revolting in the needless sacrifice of this 

 enormous measure of bird life. That is a point for the con- 

 sideration of the moralist, and it is a point well worthy of 

 consideration in the training of children, whether they can 

 be made participators in a needless sacrifice of life without 

 blunting their finer sensibilities. But setting this aside, it 

 is evident that this destruction expanded to meet an almost 

 universal demand, has already been carried far beyond the 

 recuperative powers of nature to replace. In our own coun- 

 try the concurrent testimony of old residents all over the land 

 is, that all the once familiar species of birds are disappear- 

 ing. The demand exceeds the source of supply, a condition 

 which cannot fail to lead to the almost total extinction 



of our birds, with all that is involved in so serious a 

 disturbance of the balance of life. It is not 

 merely that ten millions of birds will eat billions 

 of insects in a year. That is easily calculated. The 

 unknown quantity, the problem for which the present 

 fashion is preparing a practical solution, is the extent to 

 which insects, now comparatively rare and unnoticed, would 

 multiply and ravage the land if the birds which prey on 

 them were utterly or nearly annihilated. To arrest this 

 destruction of our birds is the object of the Aodubon So- 

 ciety, which calls on all who have hitherto been thought- 

 lessly contributing to bring about a condition of things, the 

 evils of which are inestimable :— to pause before it is too late. 

 The gieatest drain upon our birds is for feather millinery. 

 Excepting only the ostrich feather for which no artificial 

 substitute could be provided, and the wearing of which ia 

 encouraged by the Audubon Society, as tending to support 

 an important industry, and to perpetuate these birds, which 

 would soon be extinct if they were not domesticated, there 

 ia no other class of plumage indispensable to millinery. 

 Good artistic effects can be produced by choice varieties of 

 feathers, but equally as good effects can be produced with 

 the products of the loom and other artificial substances, and 

 the first important consideration is to awaken popular senti- 

 ment to the desirability of a change of fashion before the 

 nation shall be visited with a just retribution for reckless 

 disturbance of the economic laws of nature. 



To the egg collectors for ."scientific purposes we say: Do 

 your part to arrest the threatened wholesale destruction in- 

 stead of aggravating it, that your boys after you may be 

 able to study ornithology from living specimens, and not 

 have to read of the now familiar song birds of the grove as 

 recently extinct species. 



The destroyers of noxious birds, as they choose to style all 

 predatory birds, stand on somewhat different ground from 

 the egg collectors and the plumage wearers. They take the 

 stand that noxious birds are of no value in the economy of 

 Nature, but are destructive of the species we are mainly 

 desirous of preserving. To a very limited extent this is true; 

 but while the evil these birds perpetrate is readily appreci- 

 able, the advantages they confer on man are not at all patent 

 to the casual observer. That shrewd observer Eiisha Slade 

 says he knows no American bird that is not more beneficial 

 than prejudicial to the farmer, and such would. be the gen- 

 eral verdict if every one observed as carefully'and dispas- 

 sionately as he. All these so-called noxious birds prey to a 

 certain extent on small birds; but they also prey to a very 

 considerable extent on reptiles, mice, and the larger insects, 

 which but for them would increase unduly and perpetrate 

 untold havoc on the farmers' crops. To the destroyers of 

 predatory birds we say; Join the Audubon movement and 

 aid in checking the present wholesale destruction, and stay 

 your hands from the attempted extermination of your pet 

 aversions until the old conditions are restored, after which 

 the Audubon Society will gladly investigate all charges 

 against hawks, crows or jays, and give an unbiased verdict 

 according to conscience. 



If the Audubon movement encounters passing difficulties , 

 these are liberally compensated for by the daily evidences 

 we receive of a general readiness to make sacrifices to prin- 

 ciple. The two letters we publish to-day, one from an intel- 

 ligent schoolboy, the other from a simple New England 

 maiden, indicate traits of character which the nation may 

 well be proud of. As lone as such types of humanity shall 

 be common in the land, there is little fear but that the 

 nation will pass triumphantly through all the difficulties 

 that beset the unparalleled development that awaits it. That 

 such types are common, the success of the Audubon move- 

 ment bears ample testimony. We are not simply collecting 

 in one fold all the friends of the movement, but are making 

 converts to it on a large scale among those with whom con- 

 version means in all cases a measure of seif-denial. 



One secretary writes: "There is no difficulty in getting 

 any required number of pledges signed, but I make members 

 only of those who have been persistently violating the 

 pledges." Another secretary contributes, among others, a 

 red Indian as captive of her bow and spear, and although 

 her little daughter attempted to discount the conquest by 

 remarking that it was a tame Indian, there is food for re- 

 flection in his having become a member of the Audubon 

 Society. On the same day we enrolled an actress of dis- 

 tinction on the Boston boards on our list of members, and 

 the movement is advancing in an ever accelerating ratio. 

 Our confidence in the ultimate results lies in the fact that 

 wherever we secure an energetic and influential secretary, 

 success follows in the ratio of enertry displayed, and although 

 a great many ladies are bargaining for the privilege of wear- 

 ing out the feathers on hand, we beiieve that tbe fashion hag 

 received a blow from which it will not again rally. 



Editor Forest and Stream : 



I desire to be secretary in the village of Elmwood if no one 

 else has applied for that position. As soon as I have finished 

 this letter I will burn up all the feathers I have. 



Bertha Paine. 



P. S. — My mother and I have stripped our hats and bon 

 nets of feathers of every kind and burned them. B. P. 



Elmwood, Mass., April 13. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Having seen so much in the newspapers this last few 

 months about the Audubon Society and the cause for 

 which they are woiking, I resolved to give up collecting 

 buds and their eggs. So, after consulting some of my com- 

 panions, we resolved to try and become members of your 

 Society and to aid in trying to protect our birds. So please 

 send me circulars of information and about one dozen pledge 

 forms. Louis J. Townsend. 



Bloomsburg, Pa., April 26. 



A meeting of the Sorosis was held on Monday last at Del- 

 monico's. The chairman, Mrs. S. E. Youmans, introduced 

 the question for discussion which read as follows : 



Resolved, That the destruction of the native birds, for 

 which women are largely responsible, is an injury to the 

 welfare and beauty of our country. 



A report of the meeting states : The first paper was by 

 H. H. Miller (Olive Thome), "June with the Birds, " which 

 was an earnest protest against the sacrifice of bird life. The 

 next paper was "A Birdless World," by Hester M. Poole, 

 Mrs. Poole offered the following resolutions: 



Whereas, The destruction of our native birds, largely for 

 purposes of adornment, has reached an extent calculated to 

 alarm the lover of nature and the agriculturist, be it 



Resolved, That the undersigned members of Sorosis and 

 their friends pledge themselves not to use the plumage of 

 native birds in any manner whatever; 



Resohed, That we forward our names to the Audubon 



