8 TH’ Es -A,UsD U BOON (7B Ute: ela: 
able species as bluebirds, mourning doves, goldfinches and the like, particu- 
larly if one has been doing it passionately for fifty years. During this 
drive from the Atlantic to the Pacific we saw only about a half-dozen blue- 
birds, hardly that many red-headed woodpeckers, few swallows and mourn- 
ing doves. And this was in May and June! Of course, California is in a 
class by itself, not only in fruit and other vegetal products, but also in 
birds. In the many suburbs of Los Angeles the killdeer, among others, has 
become a town bird, spending much of its time on the lawns around homes, 
no doubt due to the frequent watering and irrigation these have to get, 
which in turn attracts insects. The first thriving purple martin colony we 
saw was on the return trip at Concordia, Missouri, where also the mourning 
dove became common. In 1924, when I drove to Yellowstone Park and 
points west, the dove in its eastern and western varieties was over large 
areas the most abundant roadside bird. True, in a few localities along the 
way, at least for a short distance as in the cow-country in western Kansas, 
magpies, cowbirds, lark buntings, lark sparrows and western vesper spar- 
rows were numerous. Also, one would now and then get a glimpse of a 
rarer bird, as the wild turkey in western Texas and a burrowing owl near 
Trinidad, Colorado. But, by and large, the prospect was dismal, ominous, 
giving rise to dire forebodings of a birdless land. 
But the greatest shock came to me this past summer (1947). We drove 
1,200 miles to Chicagoland, with many side trips into Wisconsin, Indiana, 
Ohio, and to the northern part of Michigan. The same dearth of birds 
everywhere. This was climaxed by conditions on the old farm near Fort 
Wayne, Indiana, where the writer has been a frequent visitor and guest 
since 1886. Until comparatively recent years such species as the bluebird, 
prairie horned lark, migrant shrike, barn and cliff swallows, purple martin 
and mourning dove, and even the bobolink, were common to abundant sum- 
mer residents. Now none of these was to be seen, or only a pitiful remnant. 
Instead of dozens or hundreds of barn swallows winging their happy way 
around the farm buildings, there was now a pair or two. Next to no 
mourning doves and robins were there; even English sparrows and star- 
lings shared in their numerical decrease. Formerly indigo buntings and 
goldfinches enlivened and lent color to this fine pastoral scene; now no more 
were to be seen. In only two or three spots in Michigan did I see gold- 
finches at all. Bluebirds and redheads seem to have disappeared from the 
whole Great Lakes region, also the migrant shrike and the whippoorwill; 
phoebe and kingbird are rarely seen, even kingfishers, hairy and downy 
woodpeckers. I hope that many localities will be found where things are 
different and better, but by and large this is the condition. 
I am writing this in Elmhurst, an attractive suburb of Chicago, on 
September 18, 1947, but so far I have not seen a single migratory warbler 
or flycatcher. What has become of them? Let us hope that the numbers 
of shore- and waterbirds are undiminished. 
The reason for the passing of the bluebird is, of course, well known. 
The usurpation of nesting holes by the pesky starling is to blame, it not 
only occupying nearly all available cavities, but also attacking the rightful 
