10 T HOE AU DrUs BtO°N? (Bist aie 
In 1930 we banded 63 birds. Since that year we have always banded 
more, but have never banded more than 300 to 400 birds. We count that a 
great many at the Schaub domicile. We have not had the returns we had 
anticipated. We have long since corrected our anticipation, but we are 
always glad to hear of the whereabouts of our birds. 
We have felt the joy of blue jays traveling up to Lake Zurich and 
then heading south for a winter in Texas. We have been glad to know 
that a flock of bronzed grackles must have stayed together to have us hear 
from 400 miles south that five had arrived in one day. We have felt a pang 
at hearing of a white-crowned sparrow shot in Peacock, Texas, and of 
slate-colored juncos found frozen in February, 1940, in Taylor, Miss. We 
have liked hearing of them at points along the way and closer home, and 
we feel sure that many more of our bird friends meet with mishaps in our 
vicinity than we had formerly thought possible. We have observed that so 
far as our records go our birds have remained in the Mississippi flyway. 
While it gives one a thrill to hear of his birds going to distant points, 
I believe for us the greater thrill comes from the positive knowledge that 
our birds have returned home after a long absence. To have a robin drop 
down into the yard and begin looking around; to have a pair of brown 
thrashers sitting in the same bush where they nested last year; to wonder 
about the wood thrush that is running along the fencerow and a few hours 
later to read the bands and know that you had them with you last year, or 
the year before, or the year before that; that to us is really belonging. 
It is fun to have positive records that a bird will arrive on a given 
date, to know that on March 8th we had better soak some raisins to help 
the robins along until the earth mellows up a bit. It sharpens one’s eyes 
and wits to know that if he looks closely he will, on the last of March, see 
the swamp sparrows running around among the leaves while he listens to 
the white-throat’s song. 
I can’t say I wasn’t shocked as well as hurt when I banded my first 
cardinal. Little did I dream that he would be so angry or frightened that 
he would take a piece of my hand away with him. I have never known 
another bird to be so angry as the cardinal. Most birds do not seem to 
mind being decorated, but the cardinal seldom repeats soon and it usually 
takes him days to forgive me enough to dine with me; but self interest 
always causes him finally to relent. Once when we banded a cardinal he 
grabbed hold of the offensive band and fiopped around in the leaves until 
we thought that his bill was caught in the band and went forth to assist 
him, only to have him fly away unharmed. He seemed almost as angry 
when we read his band eight months later. We have turned a vireo and a 
warbler upside down in our hands to band them and marveled that such 
tiny sprites could withstand the elements. 
But not all the fortunes of bird-banding are directly connected with 
the banding activities. The fact that you are trying to assist in this effort 
to prolong the life of the individual and the species causes you to make of 
your surroundings a bird haven and it is so recognized and so used and 
thought of in the community, and that brings to your very door an intimate 
association on a high level with both birds and people. We have been 
