Night 
Prowlers 
By 
DON CAMERON SHAFER 
there should suddenly appear in this 
state a million wildcats, prowling 
hungrily through forest and field, clean- 
ing up the small game, the wild birds 
and the poultry, the welkin would im- 
mediately begin to ring with the loud 
voices of farmers, sportsmen and nature 
lovers raised in noisy protest, clamor- 
ing for something to be done about it. 
And something would be done about 
it—quick! 
Almost over night there would be a 
mighty functioning of state depart- 
ments and legislative machinery, of 
farm and sportsmen’s organizations 
and there would appear as though by 
magic fat bounties for bob-cat scalps; 
the appointment of special wildcat kill- 
ers; organized hunts; the smell of 
burned powder in the air and no end 
of newspaper publicity. 
But bob-cats, once so plentiful in this 
very state of New York that the early 
colonists had to pass laws to assist in 
their extermination, are now few and 
far between. And each year they be- 
come fewer, their fur being valuable, 
and because these destructive beasts 
are always shot at sight before the rab- 
bit beagles or the fox hounds. 
But even as we heave a mighty sigh 
of relief that the above can never hap- 
pen, that never again will Lyncus Rufus 
be so numerous that special legislation 
will be necessary, let us not forget that 
the little brother of the bob-cat, in a 
vast army of many millions, is out by 
night and by day, destroying our small 
game, our song birds and our poultry. 
Millions of cats! 
|: through some perversion of nature, 
ROWLING, hunting, killing house 
cats. An astounding figures—mil- 
lions—and yet let us figure a bit. 
94 

A feline Dr. Jeykl and Mr, Hyde 
In this township of Schoharie, 
(where I live) which is on the northern 
edge of the Catskills, there are about 
2,500 people, living in some 500 homes. 
And a conservative estimate would be 
two cats per home, or 1,000 cats. Two 
cats per home is not high—one of my 
neighbors has three cats, another five! 
In this state of New York there are 
1,350,000 dwellings and 2,500,000 fami- 
lies—and the average is considerably 
more than one cat per dwelling, perhaps 
almost one cat per family. <A total of 
about two million night-prowlers for 
this state alone! If these cats average 
just one song bird apiece, just one item 
of game, figure out the loss! 
In this entire country there are 110,- 
000,000 people, 20,000,000 dwellings in 
which reside 24,000,000 families—and 
darned near every one of them keeps 
acat! There are 200,000 farms in this 
state, and some 6,500,000 in the entire 
country, where there are usually three 
or four cats hunting the surrounding 
fields. 
HO dares dispute that these cats 
actually destroy millions of song 
birds, rabbits, squirrels, grouse, quail, 
pheasants, young chickens and turkeys, 
etc.? 
Nobody. We all know it. 
nothing is done about it. 
It is an actual and undisputed fact 
that these millions of cats destroy more 
small game than all the hunters shoot. 
This is especially true of cottontail rab- 
bits, quail, grouse and pheasants. In 
addition to this, millions of wild birds; 
robins, meadowlarks, field sparrows, 
bluebirds, warblers, etc., of the greatest 
economical benefit to the farmers, are 
killed every year by these cats. And 
no one dares to estimate the number, 
And yet 
In Our Efforts at 
Vermin 
Control, 
We Must Not Overlook 
One of the 
Worst Offenders, 
Felis Domesticus 
or the value, of young chickens and 
ducklings, turkeys and guinea fowl, 
killed every summer by cats. 
What an inconsistent race of people 
we are! 
We love our birds—and keep millions 
of cats to destroy them. 
E spend thousands of dollars to 
propagate and conserve our small 
game—and not a cent to curb the kill- 
ings of the greatest hunter of them all. 
We enact the strictest laws to control 
and regulate our dog population—and 
pay no attention to cats. We shout to 
heaven over a dead sheep—and only 
laugh when a prowling cat kills all our 
young turkeys. 
If a young boy knocks down a robin 
with his sling-shot he is subject to a 
heavy fine. If his pet cat catches one 
it is all right. 
If a hunter pops over a rabbit be- 
fore the season opens there is a game 
warden right there to nab him. But his 
cat can hunt rabbits all summer. 
Game laws, sportsmen and nature © 
lovers—and yet millions of cats go on 
killing, killing, and nothing is done to 
stop it; no one dares say anything 
about it, to the everlasting shame of 
every bird lover, every sportsman, every 
gun club in the country. And the odi- 
um is no less upon the state legislatures 
and conservation commissions in par- 
ticular. 
HERE is a license to get and a tax 
to pay if one keeps a dog. I have 
to go over to town and lay down $2.00 
for the right to enjoy the companion- 
ship of my bird dog, Awaga Trojan, 
and I must keep him at home, chained 
and properly tagged, and if he kills my 
neighbor’s hens I’ve got to settle. Ac- 
