Feeding the Birds. 
Stoneham, Mass., Feb. 5. — Staggering under backloads 
of grain, and with baskets of suet and beef scraps under 
their arms, school children of this town are weekly 
spreading dining tables in the great Middlesex Felis 
reservation for the succor of starving birds. The relief 
expedition began in a small way immediately following 
a severe storm of sleet that encased trees in ice and 
hermetically sealed the bark from the insectivorous 
flocks. Snow already had fallen to a depth of several 
feet in the reservation, where woodlands stretch over an 
area of several square miles. The outlook for the birds 
was forlorn, indeed, till Ernest Harold Baynes, of this 
town, requested permission of the school board to inter- 
est the high school pupils in organizing a relief. The 
response was spontaneous. The first effort to save the 
birds was of considerable magnitude, and there is little 
doubt that the good accomplished was considerable. 
Armed with shovels, brooms, and food, the young folks, 
accompanied by Mr. Baynes and other adults, started for 
the Fells one bright morning. It's but a short walk into 
the edge of the preserve, which is bounded by several 
townships, and abounds in varied and picturesque out- 
looks. For a distance of two miles the little band walked 
and slumped and puffed toward Bear Hill, the most im- 
portant eminence in the locality. When suitable localities 
were reached the shovels soon dug circular holes into the 
hard snow till the bare ground was uncovered. Then 
the brooms swept the surface as free from snow as pos- 
sible. On these improvised dining tables grain, bits of 
bread, and other things that certain species love to eat 
were spread with lavish hand. The suet and such stuff 
for the insect eaters was wired to trees and bushes. Care 
was exercised to burrow out the snow at the very foot of 
trees so the creepers might easily find their collation. 
Fully 25 of these places were cleared and primed with 
food. 
While the children were sowing the seed that might 
■avert famine in the cold, white forests, the birds were 
hovering near with chatter that seemed to denote then- 
pleasurable anticipation of a feast. The visitors withdrew 
a little distance, and the birds — chickadees, nuthatches, 
and snowbirds—dove into the midst of the good things 
and ate ravenously. Woodpeckers and kinglets soon 
found the suet on the trees and proceeded to break what 
■may have been a long fast. For a time the snow- 
whitened evergreens formed a background to an interest- 
ing scene. From everywhere, out of the sky and frora 
the dark depths, came the hungry hordes. The air was 
alive with streaks that flashed hither and yon. The jar- 
gon was unintelligible, and if the birds expressed their 
thanks for the food they certainly left nothing undone. 
This work of humanity is being prosecuted in other 
places bordering the reservation, and the birds are being 
cared for with a persistency that surely rivals man's 
thoughtfulness for his unfortunate fellows. 
G. S. H. 
Shooting a Friend in the Woods. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
In your last issue (February 6), your correspondent, 
Mr. Hardy, loaded his gun and called his dog and went 
out to do things. Had I known he was after such big 
game I might have kept out of his way. Had I seen him 
squinting along the barrel of his old fusee I might have 
called out with Davy Crockett's 'coon, "Don't shoot. 
Brother Hardy ! I'll be down directly." But I had no 
chance, and while going peaceably about my own business 
was peppered with bird shot because Mr. Hardy heard 
a rustle in the underbrush. Naturally one's sensations 
and desires are somewhat mixed up under the circum- 
stances. Mr. Hardy makes me feel much as I did one 
moonlit night, not so many years ago, when an irate 
farmer fired a load of salt into my legs because I followed 
a family of 'coons into a field where some other boy had 
been stealing watermelons. 
One might as well get at whatever humor there is in 
the situation ; but I must still protest feebly against pro- 
miscuous shooting — which is, however, not half so bad 
as to rush into print and shoot deadly letters at a man's 
reputation on the strength of some faint rustle from an 
unknown newspaper. 
For all that I have ever said or written of animals or 
men I hold myself strictly accountable; but I refuse ab- 
solutely to be responsible for what any reporter said I 
said, or to enter into any discussion founded upon a 
garbled newspaper account of a lecture. When I tell my 
audience distinctly that I am talking about the toothsome 
little crab that they discover in their oyster stews, I refuse 
to swallow the reporter's big soft-shell, or the corre- 
spondent's Callinectes hastatus, which tastes to me some- 
thing like a bit of fried sea-bottom. And as for pain — 
"Why does a dog yelp when you tread on his toe?" asks 
the quidnunc. That is a deep question. It sets me think- 
ing. But Mr. Hardy plainly has the root of the matter in 
him, and if he will give his days and nights to the study 
of Aristotle, he will undoubtedly reach the conclusion — 
to which I also came after years of philosophical medita- 
tion — that a dog yelps when you step on his toe because 
it hurts him. In the lecture referred to I was speaking of 
wild animals in their natural state, of the infinite pains 
Mother Nature takes to keep them free from most of our 
artificial aches and pains and anxieties, and especially of 
that marvelous dreamy (and probably painless) doze she 
lets fall upon them while she is quietly binding up their 
wounds. And now I am called up in Forest and Stream 
before the sportsmen and naturalists of the country to 
answer the profound question whether it hurts a dog to 
tread on his toes, or beat him_ with a club, or smash his 
leg in a steel trap. It's too ridiculous. Let us summon 
Dogberry to give judgment. 
So let your correspondent "keep his shirt on." Guns 
should be half-cock when one is swashing around in the 
woods. And there are others who know a little about 
crabs and dogs and sich, and who can even tell a hawk 
from a handsaw when the wind's nor'east. There are 
seven or eight of my animal books to be had in any good 
library or bookstore, and if Mr. Hardy read these, instead 
of newspaper cuttings, and can add anything to my small 
Stock of animal lore, I will gladly travel a hundred miles 
to meet him, and will take his information with gratitude, 
and his correction with the best of good nature. 
But there is just one point in the discussion which I 
take more seriously. It is this — and here I must chide an 
old hunting companion— would it not be more humane, 
friend Forest and Stream, when you have a letter which 
reflects on a gentleman's reputation, or character, or in- 
telligence, to give him a fair show before you publish 
that letter to the world? For once a lie or a slander is 
started, it is vain to chase it. It is like a tramp fox, carry- 
ing his evil doing over into another county, and you 
might as well call off your dogs before they run out of 
hearing. This is but i^epeating your own injunction to 
look well before you shoot, and to be sure what your 
game is before you pull trigger. Many of your published 
letters of late seem to me to savor more of scrapping 
than of courtesy. They have, sometimes, rather too much 
of sting, or ridicule, or calling of names, to be worthy 
of sportsmen who would share their last crust or their 
last two shells with another. And you are responsible 
for this, because yours is the final authority. Your voice 
is continually raised to protect innocent animals and to 
give the hunted creature an honest chance. I have even 
heard you grow angry at a man, as well as admonish him, 
for shooting his friend for a bear in the Adirondacks. 
Now finish your good work and be yourself a little 
fairer to the men who are unfortunate enough to be often 
named in public, and who frequently get shot at because 
your eager correspondents see something stirring in the 
bushes. 
I submit this as a fair question: Would it not be well 
for Forest and Stream to do as many other responsible 
journals do, that is, whenever your correspondents, in 
their zeal for truth, . send you letters criticising another 
man, if there be the slightest question as to the truth or 
justice of such criticism, to submit such letters to the 
men most_ concerned before publishing them to the world ? 
So that, if there be any injustice, it may be suppressed 
at once ; if there be any lie, it may be nailed before it sets 
out on its evil way ; and if there be any question raised by 
an honest criticism, the -criticism and its answer may go 
out side by side, like gentlemen, and your readers, with 
the' evidence before them— ^not weeks later, when opinions 
have been formed, but at the moment when the criticism 
is first offered— may judge for themselves what is right. 
That is but flushing a bird, like a sportsman, before you 
shoot at him ; it is but slipping the dogs after the game 
is afoot. In a word, it is something like fair play for 
the hunted as well as for the hunter; and anything else 
seems to me to be rather like that pot-hunting which you 
yourself have so often and so vigorously condemned. 
I, submit the question, therefore, in the interest of 
honest sport, and I haVe small doubt of your own and 
no doubt whatever of your readers' answer. 
Wm. J. Long. 
St;\mford, Conn , Feb. <t. . . ■■ 
The Intetest of Bird Sttidy. : 
Detroit, Mich. — Editor Forest and Stream : For 
many years I ' have- been much interested in keeping a 
lecprd of all species of birds observed during every 
month of the year. To the ornithologist who has not 
kept such a record, it is a happy surprise to note how in- 
teresting and instructive this monthly catalogue develops. 
One becomes on the alert to find each species, and to 
keep his ornithological eyes open for new kinds. To give 
one an accurate knowledge of .the birds of the observer's 
section of country, the migrations, the arrival and depar- 
ture of the birds, their relative abundance, etc., the plan 
is especially advisable. Several well-known ornithologists 
have followed a: somewhat similar plan; Bradford Toney, 
in several of his charming essays, writes of his monthly 
lists in many sections of the country. 
In illustration I give my list for the month of January, 
usually supposed to be a very barren ornithological 
month. The number following each species is the number 
of seasons in which the bird has been observed. This 
list includes 49 species, 7 of ' which are stragglers. Robin, 
4: brown creeper,; 8; chickadee, 11; tufted titmouse, 6; 
white-breasted nuthatch, ;ii;; red-breasted nuthatch 3; 
golden-crowned kinglet, 5 ; cardinal, 2 ; cedar waxwing, 
2; northern ishrike, 4 ; j.unco, 3 ; Amer. crossbill, i ; evening 
grosbeak, i ; pine siskin, i ; goldfinch, 'g ; snowflake, 4 ; 
tree sparrow, 12 ; song sparrow, 2 ; meadow lark, 3 ; rusty 
blackbird, i; cowbird, i; crow, 10; bluejay, 11; belted 
kingfisher, i; flicker, i; downy woodpecker, 11; hairy 
woodpecker, 6; red-bellied woodpecker, i; red-headed 
woodpecker, 4; prairie horned lark, 7; screech owl, 6; 
Am. long-eared owl, 3 ; sawwhet owl, i ; short-eared owl, 
i; snowy owl, i ; great horned owl, 5; red-tailed hawk, 
I ; red-shouldered hawk, 5 ; bald eagle, 2 ; sparrow hawk, 
5; Am. rough-legged hawk, 2; mourning dove, i; Bob 
White, S; ruffed grouse, 10; great blue heron, i; Am. 
merganser,. 4 ; Am. golden-eye, 4; herring gull, 12; ring- 
billed gull, 8. 
Of the above, the cowbird, rusty blackbird, cardinal, 
red-bellied woodpecker, belted kingfisher, evening gros- 
beak, and great blue heron, are accidental stragglers. 
>r , Bradshaw H. Swales. 
Michigfan Of nithological CIttb. 
The quarterly meeting of the Michigan Ornithological 
Club was held February 5 at the Detroit Museum of Art. 
A fair attendance, owing to the wretched weather. J. 
Claire Wood presided. 
Mr. Blain read a paper entitled, "Our Winter Visitors,-' 
by W. G. Klugh, of Guelph, Ontario. 
Walter C. Wood spoke at length of his observations at 
the La Cheneaux Islands, and in Mackinac county, in 
October, 1903. He listed 48 species while there. Pine 
grosbeaks were fairly common. Flocks of American 
crossbills seen, nearly all in the brownish phase of plum- 
age. Out of a flock of five American scoters he secured 
one; local h«nters claim never to have seen this duck be- 
fore. Pileated woodpecker fairly common. A few flocks 
of passenger pigeons are occasionally seen here by the 
residents. 
Chas. E. Wisner read an extremely interesting paper 
on a trip made to the Hen and Chickens Islands in Lake 
Erie June 3, 1903. A colony of common tern were breed- 
ing in immense numbers; an actual count resulted iq 
1,169 sets, 2,462 eggs, 1,214 pairs. A few crows were de- 
tected feeding on the eggs. 
J. Claire Wood spoke on "Migration." He discussed 
the various theories, and advocated the tagging of nest- 
hngs as a means of confirming these theories. 
T. Jefferson Butler brought up the matter of the forma- 
tion of a chapter of the Audubon Society in Michigan. 
Moved by Mr. Swales that Mr. Butler be recommended 
by the Michigan Ornithological Club to organize this 
chapter. Carried. 
Letters of acceptance of honorary membership by 
Messrs. William Brewster, Robert Ridgeway, and J. A. 
Allen were read by Mr. Swales. 
The annual meeting of the club will be held at Ann 
Arbor, April 1-2, in connection with the Michigan 
Academy of Science. Bradshaw H. Swales, Sec'y. 
How do the Starling's Live? 
No. 58 W. Fifty-sixth Street, New York, Feb. i.— 
Editor Forest and Stream: I am anxious to know about 
the food of the starling in winter. Who can tell us? A 
flock of about fifty starlings has spent the winter near my 
house in Lawrence Park at Bronxville. They may be seen 
at all times of day near the southwest comer of the park, 
and are never engaged in serious occupation, so far as I 
can observe. If they eat anything it must be tree buds, 
for there is nothing else in sight, and they must even do 
this on the sly, for I cannot catch them at it. They are 
still whistling, but I doubt if the steam is from the 
safety valve. _ Robert T. Morris. 
[The question asked by our correspondent is an inter- 
esting one, and to be answered only by observation. Cer- 
tainly the starlings in many places about New York are 
numerous, and, notwithstanding the bitter weather of 
this severe winter, appear in good condition.] 
— ^ — 
"That reminds me." - -r- 
Seasonable Stories. 
In the spring of the year before the frost has quite left 
the ground, and when the snakes are yet in a torpid con- 
dition, we read accounts of how, at a certain quarry, a 
blast was let go exposing a den of snakes in close com- 
munity, a sort of snake merger, in the form of an inter- 
w-oven yarn-like base six feet in diameter, most of them 
six foot rattlers, some copperheads, and just enough of 
blacksnakes here and there in the bunch to give a little 
harmonious color effect. Then with the opening of the 
fishing season we get the fish stories, and about them 
nothing need be said, for even a preacher will become 
lax as to veracity when describing his catch. 
Fall comes along, the ducks come down from the 
north, winter crowds the fall a little, and before the ducks 
have left for the feeding grounds further south a freeze 
sets- in and the lucky farmer walks out upon his frozen 
slough and chops out a wagonload of fine, fat, wheat-fed 
greenheads. Poor mallards ! Lucky farmer ! 
And now when everything in animal life has left this 
country that can fly and walk, but the quail, pheasants, 
and rabbits, we get the rabbit story. It is too strong 
even to attempt to copy, so I clip it from the Pioneer 
Press where it appeared this morning. And here it is : 
HAS TO MOW RABBITS. 
hundreds freeze to ice around a drinking hole. 
Le Sueur, Minn., Feb. i.— [Special.]— Dr. A. T. Con- 
ley, of Cannon Falls, while in town to-day on a visit to 
his brother, D. C. E. Conley, of Le Sueur, informed your 
correspondent that he saw in Cannon Falls yesterday a 
double wagon box piled full of jack rabbits, which he 
heard had been caught in the following peculiar manner: 
Abram Wister, a farmer who lives near Cannon Falls, 
learned that large numbers of jack rabbits were in the 
habit of visiting an open spring on his place every day to 
drink. To get to the spring they had to cross a strip of 
ice about thirty feet wide, and, while drinking, to stand 
on the ice immediately about the spring. In a circle 
around the open water and extending out about ten feet 
from it Mr. Wister scattered salt which thawed the ice 
on the surface and kept it thawed, though the temperature 
was 30 degrees below zero. When the rabbits came to 
drink their feet were wet by the water on the surface of 
the ice, where the salt was, so that when they stepped on 
the clear ice beyond the salt they froze fast in a moment 
and stayed there until Mr. Wister rapped them on the 
heads and mowed them loose with a scythe. 
Why didn't the farmer hitch up his mowing machine 
and do the thing up artistically and in style? He might 
have shot into those rabbits like potting a bunch of mal- 
lards in a slough. 
Farming is slow when the mercury hugs 40 below zero, 
and while the convention held around the sheet iron stove 
in the general cross-roads store may be comfortable, yet 
with no one to oppose Roosevelt on the Republican ticket 
and no one in sight on the Democratic ticket, things get 
slow and conversation lags,_ and no doubt the above 
may be credited up to some inventive genius who knew 
the telegraph operator. The market price of rabbits in the 
St. Paul markets has not been affected by the above piece 
of rabbit news, so I am told. 
Somewhere I have read how the famer's boy, when the 
corn is in the milk, hies to the store and procuring bird- 
lime smears the inclosing fence rails. How the 'coons 
and squirrels running along the fence rail smear their 
feet, and, jumping from the frying-pan into the fire, as 
it were, leap from the fence and landing among the dry 
leaves ball up their feet so as to make locomotion im- 
possible. This being so, the quadruped turns on his back 
and holds his feet up to the heavens for relief, and in 
this attitude the farmer's boy finds him. All of which 
may be so. 
Now comes down from the north a tale of a man with 
