FOREST AND STREaM. 
445 
TO five hours in moderate weather. These monkeys re- 
mained in perfect health, with the exception of one, which 
died from disease of the liver, in no way related to the 
exposure. A number of other similar interesting experi- 
ments, all of them successful, have been tried. Generally 
the effort was made to keep down the temperature of the 
larger buildings, and before the end of the winter con- 
siderable variations were allowed to occur. Thus in the 
antelope house a temperature of 48 degrees was reached, 
in the carnivora house 43, the monkey house 42, and the 
elephant house 38 degrees. An average maximum for 
all these buildings was not much more than 60 degrees. 
In no case was any injurious effect or discomfort ap- 
parent among the animals, which have been unusually 
free from sickness. It is to be recalled that the large 
orang, "Chief," which lived in the collection from 
November 16, 1893, to November 3, 1897, had been in the 
open air, with snow on the ground, before reaching the 
;garden. After his arrival, less attention was paid to the 
.temperature of his cage than has been the case with any 
lof the other anthropoids owned by the Society, and it 
■often fell to 60 degrees or less. He was always healthy, 
rand his death was caused by intussusception. 
These observations suggest radical changes in our 
•methods of treatment of many species in the direction 
iindicated. 
Dr. Penrose's investigation into the pathological con- 
(d it ion of the animals which have died in the garden are 
(extremely interesting, and promise niuch in the direction 
lof prolonging the life of captive wild animals. 
As might be expected, tuberculosis was by far the most 
icommon disease, this trouble having claimed no less than 
ithirty specimens, of which twenty-five suffered from gen- 
leral tuberculosis. Kidney trouble was also common, and 
ithe various forms of diseases of the lungs and their con- 
iTiected organs claimed a number of victims. 
The number of additions to the Society's collection was 
large, and on the whole the condition of the Society 
shows most gratifying improvement over the previous 
year. 
Milliners and Bitd Feathers* 
'To settle the differences between the Audubon So- 
cietjy and the millinery trade over the varieties of birds 
•which should properly be used for hat trimmings, the 
follJoiwing agreement has been entered into between 
the Millinery Merchants' Protective Association, the 
Audulbon Society of the State of New York, and the 
Americftn Ornithologists' Union: 
The members of the Millinery Merchants' Protective 
Associatioin hereby pledge themselves as follows: 
To absitain from the importation, manufacture, pur- 
> chase, or sale of gulls, terns, grebes, humming birds, 
.and song bards. 
To publish monthly in the Millinery Trade Review 
:a notice informing the millinery trade in general that 
lit is illegal to ibuy, sell, or deal in gulls, terns, grebes, 
\huraming birde, or song birds, and that no means will 
Ibe spared to convict and punish all persons who con- 
tinue to deal m the said prohibited birds. 
To mail printed notices to all dealers in raw ma- 
terials, importers, and manufacturers of fancy feathers 
and to the millinery trade in general, that all violations 
of the law will be reported to the proper authorities. 
To notify the millinery trade by printed notices as 
to what plumage can be legally used. 
It is further agreed on the part of the Millinery 
Merchants' Protective Association that on and after 
Jan. I, 1904, the importation, manufacture, purchase, or 
sale of the plumage of egrets or herons of any spe- 
cies and of American pelicans shall cease, and the said 
birds shall be added to the list of prohibited species 
mentioned above. 
It is understood and agreed that the restrictions re.- 
ferred to in this agreement as to gulls, terns, grebes, 
herons, and humming birds, shall apply to the said 
birds irrespective of the country in which they may 
have been killed or captured. 
The Audubon Society of New York State, on iis 
Ipart, hereby agrees as follows: To endeavor to pre- 
went all illegal interference on the part of game _war- 
(dens, with the millinery trade; to refrain from aiding 
Ithe passage of any legislation that has for its object 
mestriction against importation, manufacture, or sale 
(of fancy feathers obtained from domesticated fowls, 
lor of the plumage of foreign birds other than those 
specifically mentioned above. 
It is agreed by each of the parties that this contract 
shall remain in force for a period of three years from 
the date of its execution. 
Proprietors of shooting resorts will find it profitable to idyertisc 
them in Fohbst and Stkkax. 
Give me the clear blue sky over my head, and the 
green turf beneath my feet — a winding road before me, 
and a three hours' march to dinner — and then to think- 
ing. It is hard if I cannot start some game on these lone 
heaths. I laugh, I run, I leap, I sing for joy. From the 
point of yonder rolling cloud, I plunge into my past be- 
ing, and revel there, as the sunburnt Indian plunges head- 
long into the wave that wafts him to his native shore. 
Then, long-forgotten things, like "sunken wreck and sun- 
less treasures," burst on my eager sight, and I begin to 
feel, think, and be myself again. Is not this wild rose 
sweet without a comment! Does not this daisy leap to 
our heart, set in its coat of emerald ! — Hazlitt. 
A little bird sat on a telegraph wire. 
And said to his mates, "I declare. 
If wireless telegraphy comes into vogue 
We'll all have to sit on the air." 
— ^London Fishing Gazette. 
» . « 
^ Take inventory of the good things in this issue 
of Forest and Stream. Recall what a fund was 
given last week. Comit on what is to come next j5 
week. Was there ever in all the world a more ^ 
^ abundant iveekly store of sportsmen's reading? ^ 
0. « 
VW% ^VV rw\ rW^ rWS 'I" 
That Brotherly Bunchy 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Your entertaining contributor, Mr. Sandy Griswold, m 
a recent number of Forest and Stream, makes allusion 
to a "brotherly bunch" that was "handed out" by Rev. 
Newton Mann, in a sermon preached by him, to a 'brother 
minister, the Rev. Robert E. Lee Craig ; Reverend Mann 
is quoted as follows : 
"The sony spectacle is still presented in these days of 
n piety which has no affiliation with morality; a service 
of God without obligation of kindness to His creatures. 
AVas there ever a more sorry illustration of this than the 
story of a prominent Omaha minister who administered 
the sacrament and christened babes out in the State a few 
days ago, and then amused himself on the way back by 
shooting song birds? 
"For bringing into town the bodies of twenty-two 
meadowlarks, he was arrested and fined $110, and_ is un- 
able to see any wrong in his course, only regretting the 
personal inconvenience to which he was subjected, 
"It is such things which show how far the shadows of 
the Dark Ages still reach down among us, and stealing 
over us disturb not the least our equanimity." 
Never was an obj urgation uttered that fitted more aptly 
the man who uttered it. Every line of this truly Chris- 
tian "brotherly bunch" fits the Reverend Mann like a kid 
glove. It is truly a "sorry spectacle" when a man wearing 
the garb of a minister of the Gosfjel, who presumably 
"administers the sacrament and christens babes," seizes 
upon so flimsy a pretext to hurl mud from the pulpit at a 
brother minister. 
I take it that the Reverend Craig is a Southerner, judg- 
ing by the longest end of his name. However the 
meadowlark may be regarded in the North, in the South 
he is a perfectly legitimate object for the sportsma.n's 
gun. It is true he is too easy a mark when on the wfng 
to interest skillful shots, but even these do not disdain 
the meadowlark when other game is scarce. But he is 
a prime object of pursuit for the beginner and the boy 
gunner. The bird is nearly as large as the partridge — 
American partridge — Ortyx virginianus, vide Audubon — 
and makes a most excellent dish for the table. 
As to the meadowlark being considered a "song bird," 
it is probable that the idea never occurred to anyone ex- 
cept the Reverend Mann, and that only for the purpose 
of affording occasion for his owh dulcet song of detrac- 
tion of his fellow of the cloth. 
The meadowlark very infrequently utters a short and 
melancholly ditty, which the negro humorists paraphrase 
into the words "laziness kill y-o-o-u-u," which constitutes 
his only claim to the character of a "song bird." 
As to associating the idea of "immorality" with the 
shooting of meadowlarks, the absurdity of the suggestion 
is its own refutation. 
A "sorry spectacle," indeed, that such an incident should 
be made the occasion of dragging religion into the mire 
of vilification of a brother. 
The Reverend Craig certainly had enough of the buffet- 
ings of evil fortune, when, innocently depositing his bag 
of meadowlarks on the station platform, he was engaged 
in friendly conversation by the complacent game warden 
until the train arrived and he was about to step on board, 
to be then informed that he had violated a local game law, 
of which he was ignorant, and haled before a magistrate 
and heavily fined ; I say he had abundant grounds for "re- 
gretting the personal inconvenience to which he was sub- 
jected" without being made the recipient of a shower of 
mud from his "brother in the Lord." 
"It is such things which show how far the shadows of 
the Dark Ages still reach down among us" * * and do 
"disturb the equanimity" of some of us. 
If the Reverend Mann's congregation are edified by 
such Gospel as that, the Lord help him and them. 
Coahoma. 
Mississippi. 
The Whooping Crane I Missed* 
Speaking about the last shot I ever got at a whooping 
crane, don't you always, when reviewing your many trips 
afield and the numerous incidents connected with them, 
try to decide in your minds which shot, of all the thous- 
ands you have made, you most regret missing? Anyway, 
I do. Such reflections bring back to me a flood of happy 
memories of the days and nights I have- spent amid 
nature's best scenes, and of almost every game bird and 
animal in this great country of ours. I can close my eyes 
now and see them from the Aroostook and Adirondacks 
to the cane brakes and teal swamps of Louisiana, from 
the gulf to the St. John's country in upper Canada, all 
through the great plains land of the Dakotas and 
Nebraska, from the crystal lakes of Minnesota, through 
the mountains, to the Suisun marshes in California, and 
how they stood, ran or flew among their surroundings, 
for I have shot at them all, except mountain sheep, and 
I'll get one of them this fall, and whenever I think of those 
old day joys I get feverish with the longing for just one 
more trip. 
Sometimes I think my most regretted miss was when I 
failed to down a cow moose across a three hundred yard 
stretch of bog up in Maine with an old time single breech- 
loading Sharps rifle, while hunting with my beloved old 
friend. Dr. H. W. Carpenter, of Ohio. Then I think it 
was the big wildcat I failed to injure up in the wilds of 
Paulding county in the north part of the Buckeye State, 
while deer hunting with Lon Oliver and John Perry. I 
was standing on the slanting trunk of a fallen monarch 
that had lodged against another of his kind, thirty feet 
above the ground, watching a runway, when the bobtailed 
feline walked right under the log beneath me, and I 
missed it clean, with one of those old-fashioned double- 
barreled rifles, one barrel on top of the other, and which 
were manufactured forty years ago by an old gunsmith 
at Painted Post, New York. Again it is a big male swan 
—and to-day I wouldn't shoot one for a hundred dollar 
bill — out in Deuel county, this State, in March, X894, 
when the Barrister and I made the biggest bag of canvas- 
backs and redheads ever brought into Omaha in eithet 
ancient or modern times; a pesky singing coyote way up 
on the Little White River in South Dakota, when the 
Merganser Club was encamped on the Lake Creek 
marshes; a flamingo on the St. John's River, Florida, 
or the albino dove I got two cracks at one year ago 
last summer, while out plover shooting with the selfsame 
Barrister— and so on and so on ad infinitum, for my old 
comraderie of the field, I must confess I have made 
many, many misses, yet you can take it for granted that 
my kills have been leagues and leagues in excess of them. 
Now I am almost positive that the shot I most regret 
missing, all circumstances considered, or at least the one 
that occasioned mg the keenest chagrin and disappoint- 
ment, was that out in Deuel county in the spring of 
1894. It was on a wild and blustery March evening and 
I was on my way home to Hamilton's ranch, together 
with Hamilton himself, in his little old single horse 
wagon, after a day with the ducks on Lake Mavericlc, 
We had traveled probably a couple of miles from Maver- 
ick's rice-fringed shores and the light was growing un- 
certain, when we descried three whooping cranes standing 
in the center of a little alkah pond off on the prairie 
about three hundred yards from the wagon trail. The 
great white birds loomed up as big as ostriches, and, bub- 
bling over with excitement on the instant, I insisted on 
undertaking to get a shot at them. 
"It's no use, Sandy," declared Hamilton, as he pulled 
up his little rat of a tan colored cayuse, "but if you want 
to try it, all right. I'll wait for you. But you see there 
isn't a particle of cover, and you might as well try to 
sneak on the man in the moon. We might as well drive 
on." 
But with those three big white birds — last remnants of 
a noble race— standing out there in the shadows like mar- 
ble images, Hamilton might as well have argued •with the 
gentleman he i-eferred to of lunary habitation. 
The wagon at a standstill, I was out in a jiffy, and, pull- 
ing off my cumbersome ulster and throwing it over the 
ducks in the back end of 'the wa_gon, I took my gun from 
Hamilton's hands, and, slipping in a couple of Ideal shells 
loaded with is, I got down on all fours and started on my 
laborious and almost hopeless journey toward my quarry. 
On my hands and knees I tiaveled fully one hundred 
yards, without attracting, apparently, even the slightest 
attention from the birds, but fearing to advance further 
in such a conspicuous attitude, I fell flat on my belly, 
rested a moment, and then continued on my wearisome 
way. I was breathless with anxiety and almost tired to 
death with my tortuous mode of locomotion, but, spurred 
on by my success thus far, I crawled on, writhing over 
the stunted grass, straggling yucca spikes and sandburrs, 
like some fabulous serpent of an unknown realm. I took 
advantage of every tiny hillock upthrown by the previous 
night's industry of mole or long-eared plains mouse, 
every bunch of thin tumble weed, roll of Russian thistle, 
or unbrowsed grass, every old wind-filled buffalo wallow 
or blow-out, depression of any kind or character, until 
I actually succeeded, in an incredibly short space of time, 
m getting within -sixty yards of a trio of the grandest 
birds it had ever been my good fortune to see— grander 
because they were even then so scarce that the sight of a 
small flock flying way up beneath the blue arch once in 
a while was a treat but rarely enjoyed. So it will not 
be difficult for sportsmen to define the feelings which 
thrilled me. Like dreary hours seemed the few moments 
it had taken me to reach this point of vantage, and when 
I peered forward and saw my great birds standing there, 
so -white and still that I could almost catch the light from 
their keen black eyes, it seemed to me more like a dream 
than a reality, and I took up as little time as possible in 
catching my breath and calming myself for the shot. 
The nearest bird to me was an old male, and a tre- 
mendous big one. I could descry, even in the lowering 
light, the crimson crest, the greenish dagger-like beak 
and staunch, lead-colored legs. He stood fully five feet 
from the alkali moisture to his carmine crown. He had 
a monstrous body, nearly twice as large as his nearest 
companion, and great flowing plumes overfell his sloping 
flanks. It was only here, on the barren plains, between 
the ghostly sandhills, that one could hope to see such a 
m.agnificent creature of our western solitudes. I certainly 
never before saw such a bird and never expect to again. 
There was no use in trying to shoot in the cramped 
condition in which I had found myself. I was nervous 
with hope and fear and all in a tremor from my hard 
journey from the wagon. Quickly, however, I formed my 
plan, and once determined I summoned all my powers, 
all my control, and jumped to my feet, expecting to lay 
the big bird dead, even at that long range, in his tracks 
before he could even raise a feather of those mighty 
pinions. 
But alas ! quick as I was, the old whooper was quicker. 
They had evidently discovered me before I made this 
final move, and the very second my prostrate form was in 
motion, there sounded on the air a note of ringing dis- 
tinctness, a note like no other I had ever heard before. 
It seemed to my wrought up fancies, and one I will not 
try to imitate with letters, and three pairs of enormous 
white sails were spread to the wind, three long necks 
were outstretched, and three clouds of snow went climb- 
ing heavenward with a speed that made my heart hop into 
my mouth like a redhot cannon ball, and palsied my 
fingers, and struck me dumb. Shoot ! 
On my hfe I tried to! But instead of a standing tar- 
get, It was a swiftly flying one, a traget slicing off the 
thm cold air at the rate of a mile a minute. It seemed 
to me, when I did touch the trigger of my old Parker, my 
big bird was a hundred yards away, leading his two lesser 
consorts by possibly a dozen yards or more. The king of 
the feathered world I realized was out of reach, but I did 
bang away at one of the lagging birds with my first barrel 
and with my second at the other. My eyes were blinded 
with rage, but my ears were still alert and I caught that 
searching, long-drawn and rolling hoo-roo-ooo-00 from 
out the far away blackness of that early March night and 
the trance was broken ! ' 
Not one single snowy feather, not a wisp of down did 
they leave floating in their wake, and as I turned sadly 
and dejectedly toward the wagon, which I could see dimly 
