Dec. 4, 1909.] 
893 
protecting the crops, and in this part of the 
world the cornfields are not large enough to 
justify this. 
What then shall we do? The destruction of 
the birds in summer or of their nests and eggs 
suggests itself. But even if this were deter¬ 
mined on it is not clear how it could be done 
to any purpose. I might take measures to ex¬ 
terminate the birds and destroy the nests and 
eggs on my own property and on that of those 
of my neighbors who feel as I do, but such a 
measure would make no impression on the 
hordes of blackbirds that visit me in the autumn. 
Even if some plan were devised to work out 
such a project on a large scale, no one can be 
sure of what the result would be. 
People talk in a large way about disturbing 
or not disturbing the balance of nature, but a 
good deal of this talk is pure nonsense. Poor 
old nature lost her balance long ago and it is 
never likely to be restored. Civilized man has 
destroyed or driven away from certain areas 
many species of plants, birds and mammals; by 
his various forms of so-called improvement he 
has made life difficult or impossible for one 
species and favorable- or easy for another. The 
inter-relations of wild and civilized life are as 
yet hardly beginning to be comprehended by the 
great public, and we are acting in the dark. We 
should all be glad to take a broad view of all 
these problems if we had facts enough to go 
on, but we lack these facts. 
The bird protectors tell us one set of things, 
but against their statements we have the evi¬ 
dence of our own observation. If a red-shoul¬ 
dered hawk takes a young broiler on Tuesday 
—and they do sometimes take broilers—we 
know very well that the hawk will be back on 
Wednesday and Thursday and Friday and all 
the other days to take other broilers. If the 
orioles destroy John Burroughs’ grapes, or the 
blackbirds my corn—in each case causing a real 
noney loss can the bird protectors expect us 
:o stand by and see our property destroyed 
.without making an effort to protect it? This 
ippears to me to be asking a good deal of 
tuman nature. 
The farmer puts into his fields his capital, his 
>est thought and judgment and months of hard 
'ackbreaking labor. He manures and plows and 
tarrows and plants; perhaps the. crows force 
nm to replant. He cultivates twice at least and 
oes once at least. His crop does well and then 
ust as he believes it secure, the blackbirds come 
long and render futile all his labors. I love 
ie birds and in my time have perhaps done my 
bare of work to protect them at all seasons, 
nd above all to feed the winter birds. I con- 
-ss, however, that I have about lost patience 
ith the blackbirds, and between now and next 
;ason I shall seriously consider the question 
what is to be done to lessen their ravages 
1 my few acres. 
Meantime if anyone can give me any helpful 
'ggestions, I shall be grateful. Conn. 
The drouth of the past summer and autumn 
as favorable to rabbits. During the open sea- 
n these have been found throughout the now 
y region in remarkable abundance. Good 
ort, in consequence, has been enjoyed by men 
io cannot go far from home on their brief 
ooting excursions. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
Auiumn Robins. 
The elderberry hedge half overrun with 
W'oodbine is the place to look for the robin in 
autumn. The hedge is one of my own planting, 
and although only three or four rods from the 
door, # it is worth looking into when the fall 
migration begins. The hermit thrush comes 
as in spring, silent and apparently absorbed in 
thought; the white-throated sparrow lingers 
there on his way South; I hear his ethereal 
whistle once at least each October; the junco 
rustles in the dry leaves; the catbird and high- 
hole come and go, but the robin is constant 
until the last shriveled berry is eaten or fallen 
and lost in the banked leaves beneath. 
Among the robins that lingered in the hedge 
this season was a dappled bird, a kind of 
Arabian robin. If his song should prove to be 
as curious as his coat, it would be worth going 
a long way to hear, spring or fall. The wife 
and little girl saw him several times and de¬ 
scribed him faithfully. I say him, for the bird 
wore a bright, brick-colored waistcoat, and if 
not an old male, he was certainly a well-de¬ 
veloped youngster. All who saw him were sure 
it was a robin. The head, breast and wings 
were surely the robin’s, but the back and tail 
were wljite. The description fitted no bird that 
I had ever heard of. I was skeptical until the 
little girl came running one morning to tell me 
that the white robin was on the grape arbor. 
The bird sat low on the arbor side, only three 
or four feet from the ground. My first glance 
at his dappled back and white tail did not 
convert me, but as I approached, the bird 
turned, and lo! it was the old familiar red 
breast, head, neck and wings. On wing, and 
flying low to the hedge, its plumage rivaled the 
snow-bunting’s. Had it gone over my head, I 
should have noticed that it differed from other 
robins. Evidently most of its back and all but 
the two outer feathers of its tail were white. 
Loth to lose so distinguished a guest, I fol¬ 
lowed from tree to tree. My persistence 
seemed to annoy him, and he flew away to the 
swamp. We watched the hedge and arbor 
closely for several weeks, but the season was 
late and we never saw him again. 
I keep an eye on the grape arbor when the 
elderberries are gone. The Clintons are better 
after a frost. I am alert to hear the last song. 
A bright morning or a warm rain may still 
inspire. While I cannot be “absolutely sure 
that I heard the first frog that croaked in the 
township,” I am almost certain that I heard 
the last robin. 
After the first week in October robin songs 
are rare, but this season was exceptional. On 
Oct. 24 I heard a robin singing in the village; 
“calling for rain,” as the weather-wise say. It 
was a cloudy afternoon, but the call was low 
and only a sticky mist materialized. Again on 
the 28th I heard the song apparently in the 
roadside maples. I had taken only two or three 
steps in that direction when the bird flew from 
the arbor before me. Even on the first and 
second days of November there was a little 
faraway music in the nearby elms. I never 
heard the song but once before as late as 
November. 
But the robin’s autumn song is reminiscent, 
low and subdued. To hear it often one must 
always keep the bird in his heart. In spring 
it is a ringing carol, charming the dullest ear. 
His is the note of boyhood,” writes Mr 
Burroughs. “Oh, the evening robin!” said 
Thoreau. “If I could ever find the twig he 
sits upon!” WlLL w _ Christman. 
Bird Photography. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
From earliest youth I have been an enthu¬ 
siastic lover of nature, and the greatest fun 
that I know is to make observations and study 
wild life in its haunts. I do not claim to be a 
naturalist, but am one of those who like the 
game and stick to it with unfailing interest. 
The results of this long study have taught me 
many things and pointed out facts that have at 
tunes rather amazed me. To be a successful 
student of nature one must spend much time in 
the woods and have a great deal of patience. 
Study of animals takes one into queer places. 
Bird photography for the amateur provides 
one of the most fascinating of pastimes, and I 
cannot too strongly urge upon those who love 
the camera and nature to try it. Once in it, it 
is safe to say that you will always be one of 
the clan and each year meet with new experi¬ 
ences. Think of getting a full set of photos 
in an album of American birds and their nests 
and eggs. Recollect if you will, that there are 
men all over the States in spring and summer 
who are. constantly taking pictures and hunting 
around in the woods after nests and eggs to 
photograph. It was once my privilege to be 
with a regular dyed-in-the-wool wild-life photog¬ 
rapher, and I have never had greater sport. 
To be a genuine bird photographer one must 
have courage. The fellow that I became ac¬ 
quainted with climbed out on a ledge to get a 
photo of an eagle’s nest and the young. There 
was certainly something daring about the feat, 
for the old birds were flying about, and if he 
had been there much longer it is safe to say 
he would not have come out without some 
scratches. But he got the picture. 
I have known bird photographers that have 
spent a whole season in the woods trying to get 
one picture and have finally been successful in 
their endeavors. In Northern Minnesota there 
are many nests of the osprey in trees around 
the lakes. One of my acquaintances spent a 
whole month studying the birds, and for the 
purpose- built a platform in a tree near by and 
stayed there for the most of the day watching 
and taking pictures. His collection is complete 
and is one of the best I have seen. 
Robert Page Lincoln. 
Poisons Prairie Dogs. 
For several years past the United States 
Government has been waging a bitter war of 
extermination against the prairie dogs that in¬ 
fest parts of the Southwestern States in such 
numbers as to prove a menace to crops, and 
within a period of eight months one man has 
killed nearly 600,000 of them. This man is J. 
W. Holman, recognized as the Government’s 
official prairie dog poisoner. He is paid 
cents per head, which means that during the 
eight months in question he made over $7,000, 
besides having strychnine provided him by the 
Government.—Popular Mechanics. 
