120 
FOREST AND STREAM 
OOTO^DAIL ©©[MHMHE1M1T 
of note in the outdoor world 
FRIEND OR FOE? 
LITTLE unusual, perhaps, to illustrate the editorial page, 
but we want our readers to have a good look at the fellow 
pictured herewith. The country is going to hear more, 
much more, of him from now on. He constitutes a problem 
that may assume the seriousness of that developed by the in¬ 
troduction of the English sparrow. 
As many have no doubt already inferred, either from personal 
acquaintance, or otherwise, the subject of our illustration is 
the starling. We will not take up space describing him. Here 
he stands, a menace to our native song birds, if we are to take 
the opinions of some of our best naturalists. 
Yet the starling is not without friends and defenders, who 
maintain that so far from being a nuisance or danger he will 
fit in well with our American bird life, and prove his value in 
keeping down insect pests. The verdict as 
yet is rather adverse. Massachusetts has 
declared officially against him, and there is 
some pretty strong testimony to the effect 
that the country would be better off to-day 
if this alien had never been liberated on 
these shores. Be that as it may, the starling 
is becoming acclimated and can claim citi¬ 
zenship in the ranks of our bird population. 
He is spreading rapidly. The east has been 
overrun, and the middle west, and after 
that more distant sections will sooner or 
later be familiar with him. A gregarious 
chap, he flocks with his kind after the 
manner of certain other species. His roost¬ 
ing places, where he has had time and 
opportunity to multiply, are the marvel and 
despair of those who live in the neighbor¬ 
hood. He is not musical, except that he 
can upon occasion whistle delightfully. 
Aside from his accomplishments, or lack 
of them, the question that is bothering the 
real bird lover and the economist as well, 
is whether the toll taken by this bird will 
consist of a preponderance of fruit or of 
insects. In a word, will he prove himself 
a good citizen? That he drives out less 
pugnacious song birds is an established 
fact. This is a serious indictment, for as 
substitute he makes, with his rusty coat, 
and unlovely habits, a poor comparison. He is with us, how¬ 
ever, and he is here to stay. If he has not invaded your neigh¬ 
borhood, the picture will help you to recognize him, and observe 
his habits. Do not confuse the common black bird with the 
starling, but as the former is a familiar visitant everywhere, 
there is not much danger of mixing identity. 
FISHINQ IN RESERVOIRS 
N O doubt opposition will be raised against the plan to per¬ 
mit angling under restrictions in the big Ashokan lake— 
a body of water many miles in circumference, from which 
the city of New York will in the future obtain part of its water 
supply. For all that the proposal to allow fishing permits does 
not imply danger to users of the water. 
In these columns last month a correspondent told how a 
Colorado city had tried the plan with success and in an earlier 
issue something was published as to the liberality of English 
cities in allowing their citizens privileges of the same sort. 
Now, if the truth be told, there is more or less angling in 
almost every body of water used for municipal service. The 
trouble is that the sport is confined to the favored few, either 
those with a “pull” or others who have discovered how to un¬ 
tangle official red tape. The permits should be made open to all, 
under the severest restrictions, or should be abolished altogether. 
Granting that reservoir fishing is within the rights of citizens, 
and that there are many who have no time or lack means to do 
any other kind, we wonder whether the real lesson of this issue 
is understood! If a municipality can protect its water areas so 
perfectly that they become a temptation to the angler, why is it 
that the same degree of protection cannot be extended to all 
waters, not by prohibiting fishing, but by looking after it. 
The citizen of the village, the town or the city is also a citizen 
of the State. He pays taxes to both, but while he sees to it 
that his water supply is guarded against molestation, he does 
little or nothing to conserve a valuable food source and a con¬ 
stant source of recreation by insisting that 
his hired servants, in the form of State 
officials, shall exercise the same care. 
Frankly, the citizen and the Legislature are 
commonly too parsimonious or shortsighted 
to give the officials an opportunity to do 
much. But perhaps if he got busy, being 
as much of a State citizen as he is of his 
own immediate community he might ac¬ 
complish something. There is no reason 
why he should be limited to dangling his 
legs over the edge of a city reservoir when 
it is possible for him to have good fishing 
almost at will, along streams and ponds 
where he might fill his lungs with fresh 
air and his creel with State nurtured and 
propagated fish. 
An amazing lot of space is devoted to 
the exploits of the big game hunter. 
Breathlessly we hang on his words, and his 
hair-breadth ’scapes never fail ha bring a 
proper modicum of thrills along the spine 
and the goose-fleshings that go with them. 
No doubt that is why tales of this sort are 
so popular. Look at the success of the 
“shilling shockers,” the lurid melodrama of 
the stage, and more modernly, of the movies 
when they announce something particularly 
sensational. But in real life we don’t en¬ 
counter personally the experiences we 
pay to see enacted on the screen, or stage; neither do many 
of us take our automatics and our lives in hand and go big game 
hunting. Still, we like to hear the other fellow tell about it. 
Things common never do get a proper show. Who is making 
a fuss over the fact that this is the closing season for the most 
popular game animal in the United States—the cotton tail rabbit? 
Why, if he were suddenly to be wiped out of existence the only 
excuse that most of our hunting population can furnish for 
owning guns and an accompaniment of canine accessories would 
be swept away, along with Bunny. The sale of ammunition 
would stop as though peace had been declared. 
It may be confession, but it is the truth that lowly Brer Rabbit 
is the tie that binds, the connecting link that hooks us up to 
the great outdoors in winter time. We can all hunt big game 
in the magazines, but until the last “bresh” heap or brier patch 
shall have been sacrificed to intensive cultivation, we can hunt 
rabbits in the fur, so to speak. 
Ponto, you lazy rascal! Crawl out from under that stove, and 
come along down into Squire Bilkinses’ wood slashin’. 
Starling from Central Park, L. I. 
(Mounted and photographed for Forest and 
Stream by M. J. Hofmann, Brooklyn, N. Y. 
