THE OUTDOOR WORLD 
23 
we went to visit my wife’s former home 
six miles away, when I put it in the car 
and left it on the farm there. That is 
now more than a year ago and I have 
not seen it since.” 
Defiance of a Bird Law. 
The photograph almost speaks for 
itself. A11 ambitious youth of Hem- 
lock, while “out gunning,” slashed the 
poster he found on a tree in his shoot- 
ing grounds, and to further assert his 
DEFIANCE OF BIRD LAW. 
defiance to law and order, nailed to 
the defaced plea, the poor, mangled 
body of a golden crowned kinglet, and 
the wings and tail of a brown thrasher. 
The young Bolshevist — and no one, we 
are sure, will gainsay the epithet — must 
have been interrupted in his task and 
taken a hasty departure, as he left on 
the ground beside the tree, his knife, 
with which he had slashed the poster, 
and the body of a downy woodpecker, 
dressed as clean and neat as a chicken 
for market. What the “hunter” wanted 
with these few ounces of woodpecker 
flesh, seems almost beyond the concep- 
tion of any decent, normal American 
man or woman, whether he be a nature- 
crank or not ; but quite obviously this 
tremendously useful insectivorous bird 
was to go down the maw of the young 
gunner. 
Mr. Bieseman says that this same 
youth for years has committed similar 
depredations on bird life. 
There is no need of publishing the 
boy’s name — it is a mere incident. He 
is just one of many law-breakers in his 
own town and in many other towns in 
Ohio and elsewhere. The matter was 
reported to State and Federal authori- 
ties, but according to the National As- 
sociation of Audubon Societies, nothing 
ever came of it. — Blue Bird. 
There is no month in the whole year 
in which nature wears a more beauti- 
ful appearance than in the month of 
August. Spring has many beauties, 
and May is a fresh and blooming 
month, but the charms of this time of 
year are enhanced by their contrast 
with the winter season. August has 
no such advantage. It comes when we 
remember nothing but clear skies, 
green fields and sweet-smelling flowers 
— when the recollection of snow, and 
ice, and bleak winds, has faded from 
our minds as completely as they have 
disappeared from the earth, — and yet 
what a pleasant time it is ! Orchards 
and corn-fields ring with the hum of 
labour; trees bend beneath the thick 
clusters of rich fruit which bow their 
branches to the ground ; and the corn, 
piled in graceful sheaves, or waving in 
every light breath that sweeps above it, 
.as if it wooed the sickle, tinges the 
landscape with a golden hue. A mel- 
low softness appears to hang over the 
whole earth ; the influence of the sea- 
son seems to extend itself to the very 
wagon, whose slow motion across the 
well-reaped field, is perceptible only to 
the eye, but strikes with no harsh sound 
upon the ear. — Charles Dickens in 
“Pickwick Papers.” 
Spring is the promise, Summer the flower, 
Winter the rest, after Autumn’s dower. 
— Emma Peirce. 
