to catch small song birds for food. There is a vast 
traffic in the bodies of these little songsters in that 
countiy. In Rome I saw in cages small birds whose 
eyes had been blinded by red-hot irons on the 
theory that in their darkness they would sing bet¬ 
ter and thus prove more effective decoys in allur¬ 
ing other feathered friends to destruction. 
“Our international organization is now in effec¬ 
tive operation in the United States, Canada, 
Australia, Norway, England, Holland, Luxemburg, 
r ranee and Italy. Other countries have recently 
been invited to unite with the movement and action 
by them may be expected soon. Members of the 
committee in the different countries are formed 
into National Sections which deal especially with 
bird-protective problems distinctly national in their 
scope. 
“Everywhere I went in Europe our plan was 
received most cordially.” 
THE RUFFED GROUSE 
W ITH a soul born of the mysterious and 
somber depths of a great forest solitude, a 
raiment born of a pattern of delicate sun- 
hght tracery on a carpet of autumn leaves, and 
with a spirit as wild and glorious as the brawling 
brook that flows by the hearthstone of its woodland 
home—the partridge stands foremost of America’s 
game birds as the prototype of all that is primitive 
and magnificent in the great outdoors. 
Its precipitous and furious flight, its mystic and 
elusive craftiness make it the most difficult quarry 
in the entire art of wing shooting. Its pursuit 
leads one to the inner precincts of nature’s most 
c ai ming sylvan solitude. Its elflike disappearance 
as it speeds like a rocket through the pillared 
aisles of hemlocks and melts into the vivid back¬ 
ground, leaves one with a sense of awe and rever¬ 
ence for this feathered spirit of the wood. 
It merits the admiration and protection of everv 
sportsman to be handed into future generations in 
its unspoiled primeval nature as a heritage of 
divine beneficence. 
TRAILS 
W HERE the pavement ends, begins the open 
road, and where this rock - strewn, dust- 
deep thoroughfare narrows to an incon- 
gruous path it becomes a trail. And the trail is 
loved by men—men of the open places, of the trout 
stream, the long carry and the camp. It is the 
means of getting from one obscure place to another 
moie secluded. It is beauty, geography, communi¬ 
cation itself. 
Originally a game trail or an Indian path, the 
trail appeals to the outdoorsman, be he fisherman, 
hunter, camper, trapper, guide, even nature lover 
even poet of the outdoor world. It awakens lost 
memory, aiouses nomad blood, and stimulates en¬ 
deavor. The lure of a trail winding through the 
somber forest, haunted with long shadows and 
lances of yellow sunlight slanting earthward, is 
enchanting. You cannot shake its wild control. 
Page 629 
The end lays in mystery beyond the hills—you do 
not rest until you find it. And yet a trail may lead 
nowhere, but who can question its fleeting, inter¬ 
rogative beauty? 
Let your footsteps wander at caprice some trail 
ot old acquaintance. At any time of the year 
during any display of the elements, the song-of the 
nail is deep. And the trail is a friendly thing. 
It has a naive independence, is shyly confidential, 
and wanders .off to become utterly lost as to time 
and place and destination. It pokes into odd 
corners of the woods and wanders blithely down 
pme needled slopes of litle valleys, prowls in a 
lalt-cncle about lily-spattered blue ponds to swing 
away through a back pasture where it seeks and 
ghouls intimately the very secrets of the old rail 
tence, and suddenly vanishes into thin air. Such 
surpiises it has furnished, little incidents and 
dramas of wild life that remain in memory like 
i ed-letter events, little views of landscapes and 
seasonal beauty that haunt latter days. 
It matters not the day or season of the year. 
Something is happening in the shadows of the 
trees and dense shrubbery. Swift death and stark 
tragedy haunt the trail, even while the silence and 
stillness may be dripping sweetly and lavishly with 
the throatal outpourings of some love-stricken 
bird, even while the air is heavy with the odors of 
blossoms opening or crushed under foot, and the 
scene of excitement may be more lovely than a vale 
of fairies. Nature is cruel, is a stern and uncom¬ 
promising mistress, but deep in her friendships 
glows a fair and beautiful spirit. 
The trail must be followed with ears attuned, 
eyes alert to slightest movement, nose keen to 
snare errant scents, and he who tramps the dim 
path through solitude must ever be expectant. It 
is a path of discovery, of much treasure not born 
in the imagination. It is a place of beauty, beauty 
as nature would have us know—the beauty that is 
virgin and the life that is primeval. 
FARM THE COVERS 
N OVEMBER is the moon of the hunter’s de¬ 
light. He goes forth to his chosen covers, 
knowing that pheasant, woodcock, quail and 
gi ouse ai e keen of wit, full fledged and strong of 
pinion. October’s .sheltering leaves are down and 
lacking their friendly cover, the quarry becomes 
wary and is apt to flush yards ahead of the dog. 
.the temptation to overhunt covers which birds use 
is often great. 
When a man knows that there are a dozen 
giouse in a bit of woodland and is uncertain about 
the contents of the next patch, he is a good sports¬ 
man, indeed, who will move on after obtaining his 
brace. Thoughtful men cover a lot of ground in a 
s ®^°°t’.t a kmg here a bird and there another, 
thus farming the covers” and leaving enough 
birds toi seed that they and their fellows may be 
insured against scarcity of game through the No¬ 
vembers to come. 
In the case of non-migratory birds, especially 
grouse, quail and woodcock, this unwritten law of 
individual conservation is a necessary measure. 
