piper is beneath
contempt. A live deer trotting over a green meadow, waving a triangular
white flag, is a sight to thrill any human ganglion; but a deer lying
dead,--unless it has an exceptionally fine head,--is only so much
butcher's meat.

One of the finest sights I ever saw in Montana was a big flock of sage
grouse slowly stalking over a grassy flat thinly sprinkled with
sage-brush. It was far more inspiring than any pile of dead birds that I
ever saw. I remember scores of beautiful game birds that I have seen and
not killed; but of all the game birds that I have eaten or tried to eat
in New York, I remember with sincere pleasure only _one_. Some of the
ancient cold-storage candidates I remember "for cause," as the lawyers
say.

[Illustration: ONE MORNING'S CATCH OF TROUT, NEAR SPOKANE
Another Line of Extermination According to law. Three Times too Many
Fish for one rod. In those Cold Mountain Streams, Fish Grow Slowly, and
a Stream is Quickly "Fished out"]

Sportsmen and gunners, for God's sake elevate your viewpoint of the
game of the world. Get out of the groove in which man has run ever since
the days of Adam! There is something in a game bird over and above its
pound of flesh. You don't "need" the meat any longer; for you don't know
what hunger is, save by reading of it. Try the field-glass and the
camera, instead of the everlasting gun. Any fool can take a five-dollar
gun and kill a bird; but it takes a genius to photograph one wild bird
and get "a good one." As hunters, the camera men have the best of it.
One good live-bird photograph is more of a trophy and a triumph than a
bushel of dead birds. The birds and mammals now are literally dying for
_your_ help in the making of long close seasons, and in the real
stoppage of slaughter. Can you not hear the call of the wild remnant?

It is time for the people who don't shoot to call a halt on those who
do; "and if this be treason, then let my enemies make the most of it!"

Since the above was written, I have read in the _Outdoor World_ for
April, 1912, the views of a veteran sportsman and writer, Mr. Emerson
Hough, on the wild-life situation as it seems to him to-day. It is a
strong utterance, even though it reaches a pessimistic and gloomy
conclusion which I do not share. Altogether, however, its breadth of
view, its general accuracy, and its incisiveness, entitle it to a full
hearing. The following is only an extract from a lengthy article
entitled, "God's