A war of extermination has been declared against the English sparrow by the Department of Agriculture, which has just issued a bulletin on the subject in which this busy, fighting bird is outlawed as a pirate of the air. It is declared that he studiously hunts and eats insects which are beneficial to plant life, while he more or less passes over those which are harmful. The only good thing he does is to eat the seed of weeds and prevent their spread. Aside from that there is nothing to be said in his favor.
More than that, he is murderous. He hunts the nesting-places and destroys eggs and young bluebirds, house-wrens, tree-swallows and barn-swallows. The robin, the catbird, and the mocking-bird he attacks and drives out of parks and shade-trees. He has no song, but he drives out the song-birds and brings only noise in return.
After having learned all this about the sparrow after an extensive investigation, the Department of Agriculture describes various ways to destroy him.
City Forester Filer said yesterday he has not seen a copy of the bulletin, but that he agrees with its conclusions. “There is a good deal of justice in declaring the English sparrow a pirate,” said Mr. Filer. “These birds were originally imported to New York to get rid of an insect pest, the linden moth, which that city was then fighting. The sparrow didn’t like these moths, and he doesn’t like any caterpillar with fuzz on it, and he took to the streets for his living. They spread and multiplied very fast.
“The robin is the only other bird we have in Buffalo in numbers and the sparrows eat their eggs. In the parks we have a few other varieties, but they are not numerous, and the sparrows are not as plentiful in the parks as they are in the streets, where they prefer to get their living.
“Most of the destructive moths, particularly the gipsy, tussock and browntail, have hairy caterpillars, and the sparrows will not eat them, so they are no good for that purpose.”
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Placards—See [Pictures, Influence of].
PLACE, FILLING ONE’S
Sir Michael Costa was once rehearsing with a vast array of performers and hundreds of voices, when, in the mighty chorus, amid the thunder of the organ, and the roll of drums, and the blare of brass instruments, and the clashing of cymbals, he suddenly stopt and exclaimed, “Where is the piccolo?” That little instrument had ceased to play, and the great master of music missed it.