Dallas, Texas, papers and Oklahoma papers, please copy!
| THE ROBIN OF THE NORTH Our best-beloved Song Bird, now being legally shot as "game" in the South. In the North there is now only one robin for every ten formerly there. |
As a further illustration of the spirit manifested in the South toward robins, I quote the following story from Dr. P.P. Claxton, of the University of Tennessee, as related in Audubon Educational Leaflet No. 46, by Mr. T. Gilbert Pearson:—
"The roost to which I refer," says Professor Claxton, "was situated in what is locally known as a 'cedar glade,' near Porestville, Bedford Co., Tennessee. This is a great cedar country, and robins used to come in immense numbers during the winter months, to feed on the berries.
"The spot which the roost occupied was not unlike numerous others that might have been selected. The trees grew to a height of from five to thirty feet, and for a mile square were literally loaded at night with robins. Hunting them while they roosted was a favorite sport. A man would climb a cedar tree with a torch, while his companions with poles and clubs would disturb the sleeping birds on the adjacent trees. Blinded by the light, the suddenly awakened birds flew to the torch-bearer; who, as he seized each bird would quickly pull off its head, and drop it into a sack suspended from his shoulders.
| THE MOCKING-BIRD OF THE SOUTH This sweet singer of the South is NOT being shot in the North for food! No northern lawmaker ever will permit such barbarity. |
"The capture of three of four hundred birds was an ordinary night's work. Men and boys would come in wagons from all the adjoining counties and camp near the roost for the purpose of killing robins. Many times, 100 or more hunters with torches and clubs would be at work in a single night. For three years this tremendous slaughter continued in winter,—and then the survivors deserted the roost."
No: these people were not Apache Indians, led by a Geronimo who knew no mercy, no compassion. We imagine that they were mostly poor white trash, of Tennessee. One small hamlet sent to market annually enough dead robins to return $500 at five cents per dozen; which means 120,000 birds!
Last winter Mr. Edward A. McIlhenny of Avery Island, La. (south of New Iberia) informed me that every winter, during the two weeks that the holly berries are ripe thousands of robins come to his vicinity to feed upon them. "Then every negro man and boy who can raise a gun is after them. About 10,000 robins are slaughtered each day while they remain. Their dead bodies are sold in New Iberia at 10 cents each." The accompanying illustrations taken by Mr. McIlhenny shows 195 robins on one tree, and explains how such great slaughter is possible.