_Game Protection._
This, a sportsmen’s problem, may appear to you as being entirely out of
place in a book like this; yet I want you to read, for I feel fully
qualified to discuss this matter in a conscientious, fair and square,
look-you-in-the-face manner, as I have the itching of my own
trigger-finger fairly well harnessed, and have no desire to shoot any
bird other than the cannibals; but on the other hand my boy, Ted, who is
twenty-three years of age, and for whom I would willingly lie down and
give up the ghost if it were actually necessary, likes to shoot, and I
sometimes think he is as crazy for a gun as I once was, but that seems
impossible.
Nearly twenty years ago I organized the South Essex County Game
Protective Association, which, by the way, now has advanced into the
hands of some of the best and most self-sacrificing sportsmen this earth
can produce. And let me say right here that they have stood, and are
still standing, right behind me, backing me up in every just
undertaking. If every county had an association of the same material the
question would all be solved, for when these men asked our Dominion
Government to proclaim a bird sanctuary around Jack Miner’s home, in
less than three months no shooting was allowed within a mile of my
house, and the game warden came and declared it a Crown Lands’ Bird
Sanctuary.
To be sure, I have tasted the insults one experiences when he changes
from a pull-down to a builder. An insulting doctor once said to me, as
he stood in the safety zone and shook his fists at my red face, “Jack,
you are just like old Uncle Joe; when he used to dance he wanted
everybody to dance, but when he got religion he wanted everybody to
pray.”
Now the first thing to consider is that over ninety per cent. of the
people in America don’t want to shoot. They want to see the birds alive.
They take nothing from the shooter, but the shooter takes all from them.
Which should control, the ninety per cent. or the ten? I say there can
be pleasure for both, if properly managed; but the shooter must be
considered last, for the fall of one bird out of the air from his deadly
aim gives pleasure to one only, while thousands are deprived of the
thrilling enjoyment of seeing that bird alive. God says, “In any wise
let the mother go and take the young to thee;” yet some of our people
want to shoot the mother before she lays the eggs to hatch the young
that He says we can have. Yes, a man may be a good, shrewd business
fellow, but when he gets a gun in his hands he appears to lose all
self-control and does not expose enough brains to give him a headache.
Government game wardens are usually a bunch of men appointed by pull and
favor, and don’t know a bit more about game protection than I know about
the price of pork grease in Jerusalem. If called by its right name it
would be “political protection,” and I don’t have to lie to tell the
truth about it. However the less said the better, and it is of no use to
us to look back at the past. We must remember Lot’s wife stopped and
looked back, and she turned into a pillar of salt; Pat’s wife stopped
and looked back, first over one shoulder and then over the other, and
she turned into a beer saloon.
Personally I don’t like to hear any one complain unless he has a
carefully thought out suggestion for improvements. Therefore I will
proceed to give you my plan, which is based on twenty years’ intense
interest and careful study.
First of all, every county in America should organize a real live,
wild-life conserving association.
Delegates from each county should meet in annual State or Provincial
convention with our Parliament members present to hear the discussion.
Appoint our game keepers by right, and not by favor.
Compel them to give an itemized account of every day’s proceedings.
During the spring and early fall months let them go to the schools and
give half-hour talks to the rising generation on the value and
enjoyments of our out-of-door life. During the winter months this same
game keeper could often take a bunch of school boys with him as he goes
on his visits, carrying feed, and building shelters for the birds in
time of need. This would prevent a game keeper from having to make an
eagle out of a gnat fly in order to hold his job. Yes, the fellow who
dissected the baby hawk’s crop and found it contained crickets and
grasshoppers, he could attend such a convention and demand the privilege
of airing his views; but hawks and owls that live in Canada during the
months of December, January and February do not live on grasshoppers
during those months, therefore such questions might open up something
higher than a grasshopper discussion.
Every gun should be licensed high enough to pay all expenditures, but no
State or Province in America should be allowed over one month’s open
season on migratory birds until they are more plentiful.
No person or persons should be allowed to feed artificial grain to birds
for the sole purpose of slaughtering them. This would encourage the
replanting of more natural duck and goose foods, and make our marshes
more productive.
The bag limit should be kept down. Not that this bag limit law is easily
enforced, but for the steady education that it is wrong and
unsportsmanlike to slaughter. Any man who wants to shoot more than five
ducks in a day, or twenty-five in a season, is not considerate of the
other fellow’s North American rights and privileges.
But the whole proposition is hinged on better education, and when the
people of this continent wake up and find out that good, sensible game
protection pays two hundred per cent. annual dividends, then we won’t
lie back and yawn and say it is no use trying.
As proof that I know what I am writing about, I call your attention to
my own success, that you are compelled to believe. Now if one man, with
limited means and no natural advantages, but backed up by good
neighbors, can do what has been done here, what can the wealth and
effort of one hundred and twenty-five millions of people do with our
natural advantages?
Yes, I have demonstrated that the sanctuary plan is a sure preventive of
extermination. With plenty of such places where neither rich nor poor
dare molest them, bird lovers can have first choice and the shooters the
overflow. We can have more tagging stations to enable us to trace the
birds of different localities, as I have done here. We can organize an
international bird-lovers’ association. In fact, we can have anything
that will lead to deeper interest and more education as to the value and
enjoyment of our birds. Personally I have more confidence in a
thimbleful of education than I have in a barrelful of bayonet-point
compulsion.
Two years ago a gentleman in Peterborough, Ontario, engaged me to come
for two days; I went to each school and talked as best I could. The
following spring this dear man gave bird-house prizes to the same
children. The accompanying photograph shows the results.
Now to those who think it not worth while: You are depriving yourself of
a pleasure that is knocking at every man’s door. God left the wild life
in our care, and it is not a question of what we can have, but the
question is, Will we have?
Just close your eyes and ears and abandon all of nature’s sights and
sounds; what extra attractions would spring have for you? On the other
hand, just multiply the present attractions tenfold. Can it be done?
Yes; “come over into Macedonia and help us,” is my message to you.
[Illustration:
_Photo by Fred Roy, Peterborough_
CHILDREN WITH BIRD HOUSES, PETERBOROUGH, ONTARIO]