. It is the robin, catbird, thrush, bluebird, dove,
woodpecker, chickadee, phoebe, tanager and other birds of the lawn, the
garden and orchard that afford good hunting for sly and savage old
Thomas.

When I was a boy in my 'teens, I had a lasting series of object lessons
on the cat as a predatory animal. Our "Betty" was the most ambitious and
successful domestic-cat hunter of wild mammals of which I ever have
heard. To her, rats and mice were mere child's-play, and after a time
their pursuit offered such tame sport that she sought fresh fields for
her prowess. Then she brought in young rabbits, chipmunks and
thirteen-lined spermophiles, and once she came in, quite exhausted, half
dragging and half carrying a big, fat pocket gopher. With her it seemed
to be a point of honor that she should bring in her game and display it.
Little did we realize then that in course of time the wild birds would
become so scarce that their slaughter by house cats would demand
legislative action in the states.

In considering the hunting cat, let us call in a credible witness of the
effects of domestic cats on the bob white. The following is an
eye-witness report, by Ernest B. Beardsley, in _Outdoor Life_ for April,
1912. The locality was Wellington, Sumner County, Kansas.

In the meantime, old Queen was having a high old time up ahead, some
hundred feet by then, running up the bank and back down in the draw.
We had hardly caught up when up goes Mr. Savage's gun and he gives
both barrels. I had seen nothing up to date, but I didn't have long
to wait, for by the time I got up to him and the dog, they were both
in the high grass and had a great, big, common gray maltese
house-cat; and Queen had a half-eaten quail that Mr. Cat was busy
with when disturbed.

Well, we followed the draw across the field and got nine of a covey
of sixteen that had been ahead of Mr. Cat; and about four o'clock
that evening we killed another white-and-gray cat. While driving
home that night, Mr. Savage told me that he had killed fifty or more
in three or four years. They will get in a draw full of
tumble-grass, on a cold day when quail don't like to fly, and stay
right with them; and even after feeding on two or three, they will
lie and watch, and when the covey moves, they move. When eating time
comes around they are at it again, and to a covey of young birds
they are sure death to the whole covey.

Well, Will told me neve