Part 6

“No, it is no harm to use the feathers of domestic fowls, or other food-birds,” said Gray Lady; “only, unless we have raised the fowls from which they come ourselves, it is not easy to be sure about the matter, unless the feathers are left in their natural colours. They may tell you in a shop that the wing or breast you see is made of dyed chicken or pigeon feathers. You must take their word that this is so, and many times they may have been misled in the matter themselves.

“Birds’ feathers, it cannot be denied, are very beautiful and ornamental, but to my mind it is very bad taste to wear anything dead merely for ornament,—furs, of course, keep the wearer warm as well,—but I myself do not care for any hat trimming that can only be had by taking life.

“There is one kind of feather,—the Heron or Egret plume,—that I am not only sorry, but ashamed, to say is still in use, because it comes from birds that live in other countries, and these birds we cannot yet protect. Not only must these birds be killed to obtain the coveted plumes, but the killing is done in a brutal way, and at a time of year—the nesting season—when, according to the wise law of nature, every bird should be cherished and its privacy respected.

“Look at this great White Heron in the picture beside me here. He measures two feet from the tip of his bill up over his head to his tail, though you cannot really see the tail as he is pictured on account of the beautiful sweeping cloak of fine feathers that cover it. This bird has yellow eyes and feet, beak and legs partly yellow and partly black, but is everywhere else white of an almost dazzling brilliancy.

“Many birds wear more beautiful and highly coloured feathers in the nesting season than at any other. These Herons, both male and female, are pure white all the year through, but as the nesting season approaches a change comes,—a number of slender plumes grow out from between the shoulders and curve gracefully over the tail, forming a complete mantle, and it is these feathers that are sought by the professional plume hunters to be made into the feathery tufts sold as egrets, though the word Eliza used by a slip of the tongue, _re_grets, I think much more suitable, for surely any one with a warm woman’s heart would _regret_ ever having worn them if she realized how they are obtained.”

“Miss Barker gave my mother hers,” put in Eliza, “’cause she’d just found out where they came from and dassn’t wear it to church ’cause her minister belongs to a society that wouldn’t like it. She didn’t tell us why, though; she only said regrets was counted stylish in N’ York.”

“Yes,” said Gray Lady, “that is all the idea some people, who think themselves very clever, have of honour. To give away a feather that one cannot wear, for fear of what some one will say, is like giving stolen goods to some one who does not know that they are stolen.

“Not many years ago this Snowy Heron and his cousin, the American Egret, almost twice his size, might be found everywhere in the swampy groves of temperate and tropical America, from New Jersey across to Minnesota and Oregon, and as far south as Patagonia in South America. Within a few years I have seen one or two in autumn in the marshes back of our bay below, for like many birds they wander about after the nesting season. Their food consists of small fish,—shrimps, water-beetles, etc.,—so that they never make their homes far from moist places. Now, in this country at least, the race is nearly gone, and it will be only by the strictest laws and most complete protection that it will be possible for the tribe to increase. To regain its old footing cannot be hoped for.

“The beginning of the tragedy came by woman’s love of finery, and only by her resolutely giving it up can the trouble be ended.

“Through some happening it was discovered that this mantle of feathers could be made into ornaments for hats and hair that were not only widely sought, but brought a high price. This was enough; bands of hunters were organized to search the swamps for the Herons and obtain the plumes _when they were in the best condition_. How it was to be done did not matter, and indeed it has taken the world many years to realize the horror of it all.

“These Herons breed in colonies. The nest, a stoutly built, slightly hollowed platform of small sticks, reeds, etc., is placed either in a tree or tall bush, care being always taken to keep it safely above the water-line. As the birds are very sociable, a single bush or tree would often contain many nests.

“When the nesting season was well under way and the feather cloaks in their first perfection, through the lagoons and sluggish waterways came noiseless flat-bottomed boats, low on the water, and poled by the guiding Indian or half-breed. Astern sat the plume hunters, guns at rest and eyes eagerly scanning the foliage above their heads. ‘Ah! here is a rookery at last!’ (rookery being the name given to colonies of many birds beside the Rook). The parent birds are sailing gracefully to and fro, their long legs trailing behind, while they feed the newly hatched nestlings. For with the most crafty calculation the plume hunters wait for the time when the birds are hatched because they know that the parents are then less likely to take alarm and fly beyond reach.

“The boat is stopped by the guide, who grasps an overhanging branch close to where an opening in the under-brush gives a good view of the colony.

“Bang! bang! Bodies crashing through the branches and pitiful cries of alarm mingle for several minutes, as the confused birds rise, remember their young, and return to die! When the smoke has lifted, the hunters clear the ground of the dead and dying and piling them in the boat begin to tear off that portion of the back, the ‘scalp,’ that holds the precious plumes. If all the birds were dead, the horror would be less, but time is precious; there are other rookeries to be visited that day, and so the still breathing and fluttering birds are also torn and mutilated.

“Then the boat glides on, leaving death behind. Yes, but not the silence that usually goes with death, for there in a hundred nests are the clamouring hungry broods that will die slowly of hunger, or be victims of snakes or birds of prey,—the happier ending of the two.

“After a day’s work the plume hunters find ground dry enough for a camp, where they pass the night, and at dawn they again glide forth on their ghastly errand.

“Sometimes storm, pestilence, and famine may nearly exterminate a species of bird or beast, but Nature in some way, if she still needs the type, always manages to restore and undo her own mischief; but, as a lover of these birds has said, ‘When man comes, slaughters, and exterminates, Nature does not restore!’ It is only the men and women who have done the evil that may be allowed to undo it, and sometimes it is too late.

“Now you see why no one should wear egret plumes, the feathers of the bird that has been called ‘The Bonnet Martyr.’ Girls and boys, whoever you may be, who hear or read this story of the vanishing Snowy Heron, be courageous, and wherever or whenever you see one of these regret plumes ask the wearer if she knows how it was obtained and tell her its story, for whether the bird who bore it lived in this or another country the manner of taking is the same.

“There have been foolish stories told of raising these birds in captivity and gathering the plumes after they are shed. This is not true. They would, when shed naturally, be worn and useless, and the egret will always be what one of the Wise Men has called it, the ‘White Badge of Cruelty.’”

* * * * *

“Now, Tommy Todd,” said Gray Lady, “you may take down the Heron and put the other picture in its place. The bird in it is not graceful and beautiful like the Heron; in fact, it looks more like some sort of a camel than a bird, but its story is much more cheerful. Its feathers may be worn by every one, for it is not necessary to kill or hurt the bird in order to get them. Some of you have guessed its name already, I am sure.

_The Ostrich_

“Ostriches live in warm countries as well as Herons, but here the comparison begins and ends, for the Ostrich loves the open sandy desert and was originally found wild in Africa, Arabia, and also in Persia. The Ostrich, the largest bird now alive, is most peculiar both in appearance and habits. Standing sometimes eight feet in height, it has a long, almost bare neck, and small stupid-looking head; its wings are so small that it cannot fly, but its strong legs, ending in two-toed feet, give it the power of running as fast as a horse, and it can kick like a horse also, with this difference,—an Ostrich kicks forward so if you wish to be perfectly safe you must stand _behind_ it! At the base of the wings and tail grow tufts of long and substantial feathers, the wing tufts being the longer and best. In truth, but for the fact of the feathers that cover its body, no one would guess that it was a bird, and even with these it looks like some strange beast that has put on a borrowed coat to go, perhaps, to the great Elephant Dance that little Toomai saw once upon a time in the Jungle, about which Rudyard Kipling tells so well that sometimes we wake up in the morning and really believe that we ourselves have ridden to the dance upon the great Elephant instead of Toomai.

“In wild life birds have always been hunted for their plumage as well as for food. It is thought that the savage at first killed solely for food, and then used the hides of beasts and feathers of birds for clothing and decoration as an afterthought, some of the royal garments of kings and chiefs of tribes being woven of countless rare feathers.

“When man as we know him, white or civilized man as he is called, explored wild countries, he introduced two things that wrought great harm to wild creatures and savages alike,—the money-trading instinct and strong drink. In order to buy this drink, which always proved his ruin, the savage looked about for something to offer in exchange, and what was there for him but to kill beast or bird and offer some part of it in trade?

“In this way the elephants’ tusks, of which ivory is made, rare furs, alligator hides, and Ostrich eggs and plumes, as well as rough uncut gems, became known to the people of Europe.

“The savages hunted the wild Ostrich with bow and arrows that were sometimes poisoned, and the bird being killed, of course, yielded but one crop of feathers.

“As the Ostrich cannot fly and is a very stupid bird, living in open deserts where there were few places to hide, it was very easily destroyed—its only means of escape being to outrun its pursuers, who were on foot. But presently when firearms were used to hunt him, the Ostrich seemed as utterly doomed as the White Heron.

“But the day came when men who realized the great demand there was for these feathers and the profit to be made by selling them, tried the experiment of raising the birds in captivity, just as we do our barnyard fowl, treating them kindly, and feeding them well, so that they might yield not only one but many crops of plumes, because they knew that the Ostrich is not only long-lived but, like the smaller birds, changes its feathers every year.

“The Ostrich was a difficult bird to catch and tame when full grown, for at that time they weigh several hundred pounds and their habit of kicking has to be remembered, the same as with a wild horse. So the plan was tried of collecting the eggs and hatching them out, and even this was not as easy as it seems.

“Though Ostriches are so foolish that, when chased, they will often stand still and hide their heads in the sand, evidently thinking that if they cannot see their pursuers, they themselves cannot be seen, they make devoted parents. And this plan was so successful that Ostriches are now raised like domestic fowls, not only in Africa but in this country, where the birds were introduced in 1882, and there are now many successful Ostrich farms in Arizona, California, and Florida, where alfalfa can be raised all the year, for this is the best food for them.

“The breeding habits of the Ostrich in captivity are different from those of the wild birds of the desert who live half a dozen hens to a family like our barnyard fowls. The nest is merely a hollow in the sand a foot or so deep, and several broad, made by the pressure of the great breast-bone and sides. Eggs are laid, one every other day, until a ‘clutch’ of a dozen or more has accumulated, and these must be kept warm for nearly a month and a half before the chicks will be hatched.

“When you realize that one of these eggs would make an omelet as large as two dozen and a half hens’ eggs, and weighs three or four pounds, so that the omelet would feed an entire family, you will understand that it takes both patience on the part of the parents and a great deal of heat to hatch these eggs. Sometimes the owners prefer to hatch the eggs in an incubator.

“You have some of you seen a Robin stand up in the nest and shuffle her feet; when she does this she is turning her eggs, and the great Ostrich eggs are also turned every day. When domesticated, the mother Ostrich tends the eggs during the daylight hours, but the father takes her place in the later afternoon and remains until morning. This is evidently the result of the instinct for colour protection. The gray female shows the least plainly in daylight on the sand, while the black-and-white male can scarcely be seen at night. In fact, the domesticated bird is a creature of such regular habits that, according to reliable accounts, the male takes his place on the nest promptly at 5 P.M. and does not move until 9 A.M. This account does not say whether Mrs. O. lets her husband have an evening out once in a while to go to his club or lodge, but perhaps, as he has the rest of the year to himself, he does not expect a vacation in the important nesting season. But one thing is known to be true, that Ostriches are very devoted to each other and that the pairs when once mated remain together for life, an attribute of many birds, especially the very long-lived species. It is said that the wild Ostrich lives to be 100 years old. This may be true, for Ostriches who have been captives 40 years are still alive and healthy. In the deserts Ostriches are supposed to be able to go without water for days at a time, but in captivity they drink freely every day. This either proves that the habits alter very much, or else, that those who reported their wild life did not see correctly.

“When the young Ostriches are hatched, they are about the size of a Plymouth Rock hen and are mottled and fuzzy. They grow very rapidly, so that at nine months old the bird will be nearly six feet tall, and after this the plumes are plucked at intervals of nine months; the feathers do not reach perfection, however, until the third year, and the birds do not reach maturity and mate until they are four years old,—and a fine male Ostrich of six or seven years of age is worth $1000 and will yield from $50 to $80 worth of feathers yearly.

“When a little over a year old, the mottled plumage that the young birds wear slowly changes, the female becomes a dusky gray, and the male glossy black, though they both grow long white wing-plumes. By this you may learn that all the gayly coloured plumes that you see are dyed, and even those that remain black or white go through many processes of cleansing and curling before they are sold in the shops.”

“How do they get the feathers off?” asked Sarah Barnes; “do they wait until they moult or pull ’em like they do geese?—only that hurts some ’cause the geese squawk something dreadful.”

“I’m glad that you asked that question,” said Gray Lady, “because it is one of the special points about Ostrich feathers that should be made known to every one. If they waited for the feathers to be shed, they would be worn and broken. You all know how very shabby the long tail-feathers of a rooster become before the summer moulting time. When Ostriches were first raised in confinement, their owners used to pluck out the plumes. But they soon found that not only was this troublesome, for the pain of it made the birds struggle, but the next crop of feathers suffered in consequence. Nature has reasons for everything she plans and there is evidently some substance in the butt of the old quill that, by keeping the skin soft and open, prepares the way for the new one that is to follow and causes it to be of better quality.

“Now the plumes are clipped off, and later on the stubs, which are then dry, come out easily. The feathers of these birds are much fuller and finer than those that came from the wild Ostriches.

“The picture shows an Ostrich in the little three-cornered pen with the men holding up the tufts and preparing to snip off the feathers. The pen is made in this shape so that there will be standing-room for the men, but not room enough for the Ostrich to turn round and kick forward. A hood shaped like a stocking is drawn over his head, and he is perfectly quiet, for he feels no pain and no blood is drawn.

“Now you can judge for yourselves that Ostrich feathers may be safely worn by every one who likes beautiful things, for certainly there are no feathers so graceful as a sweeping Ostrich plume with the ends slightly curled.

“In addition to the fact that the growing and taking of these feathers is perfectly humane, their use encourages a large industry which gives employment to many people here in _our own country_.”

“I wish my ma had an Ostrich plume in her Sunday hat instead of that mean egret,” sighed Eliza Clausen, half to herself. “I can take the smaller wings out of mine and leave the ribbon, but the feather’s the whole topknot of ma’s.”

Softly as Eliza had spoken, her words could be heard in the silence that came when the reader closed her scrap-book.

“Bravo! bravo! little girl,” said Gray Lady, smiling so brightly that Eliza forgot to be embarrassed. “You see that your mother was right when she said, ‘When people get to hearing about birds they stop caring to wear them in their hats,’ even though she did not mean it quite in this way. Very few people would wear the cruel kind of feathers if they only understood. I will give you a pretty little Ostrich tuft to take to your mother in exchange for the egret, when you explain to her about it, and I’m sure Anne can find something among Goldilocks’ boxes to replace your Swallow’s wings.”

Eliza’s eyes sparkled, and all signs of resentment left her face.

“But,” asked Gray Lady, “what will you do with the poor little wings and the egret? You surely will not give them to any one else.”

“No, ma’am, I’ll have a funeral, and bury them down in the meadow, where my kitten is that fell in the water barrel and sister’s canary!”

Then all the children laughed, including Eliza herself, and Gray Lady joined.

“School is over for this afternoon,” said Gray Lady, “but before you go we must arrange for our next meeting. I, myself, belong to the Humane Society. How would you like to organize a little school society of your own to help one another remember to be kind to everything that lives, and also to see and learn all you can about our little brothers of the air, whose life and happiness depends as much upon our mercy as our food and shade, beautiful flowers, and luscious fruit depend upon their industry?

“Let us call it ‘The Kind Hearts’ Club.’ Who will join it? Goldilocks and Jacob Hughes are the first two members—how many more are there here? Oh! Tommy Todd! one hand is enough to raise, unless you expect to work for two people!”

VII THE KIND HEARTS’ CLUB

“While you were playing hide-and-seek in the orchard this morning, Miss Wilde and I had a long talk about the Friday afternoons at school,” said Gray Lady, “and what do you suppose? She has given every other Friday afternoon to us, to you and to me, not only that we may all learn about birds and animals and how to be kind to them, but other things as well.”

“That will be lovely!” exclaimed Sarah Barnes, but suddenly her face clouded and she added; “that will only be twice a month, though, and if, when it comes winter, it’s such bad weather that school has to be closed up of a Friday, then it would be once a month, and that would be _very_ long to wait!”

“Ah! but you have not heard all of the plan yet,” said Gray Lady. “Two Fridays of each month I will go to your school, and two Saturday mornings in every month you are to come to my house, that is, if you wish to,—of course you are not _obliged_ to come. And it will only be a very bad snow-storm, deeper than horses’ legs are long, that will keep me away from Foxes Corners, for did not you and I become friends on a very dreary, rainy afternoon?

“On the Friday afternoon at school I will either tell or read you stories of the birds of the particular season, and I shall give you every chance to ask questions and tell anything that you have noticed about birds or such little wild beasts as we have hereabouts, for you know it is a very one-sided sort of meeting where one person does all the talking.

“I may be a sober-minded Gray Lady, but I very well know how tiresome it is to sit still for a couple of hours, even if one is listening to something interesting. I think that one can hear so very much better if the fingers are busy. So, with Ann Hughes’ help, I am going to give the girls some plain, useful sewing to do, patchwork, gingham cooking-aprons, and the like. This plain sewing will be Friday work. On the Saturday mornings that you come to me you shall have something more interesting to work upon,—that is, as many of you as prove that they know a little about handling a needle. You shall learn to dress dolls and make any number of pretty things besides.”

“I haven’t got any thimble,” said little Clara Hinks, called “Clary” for short, in a quavering voice. “Grandma is going to give me a real silver one when I’m eight, but that won’t be until next spring, and now I have to borrow my big sister Livvie’s when I sew my patchwork, and it’s too big, and it wiggles, and the needle often goes sideways into my finger. Besides, she wouldn’t let me bring it to school, ’cause it’s got her ’nitials inside a heart on one side of it, and George Parsons gave it to her, an’ anyways she’s using it all the time, ’cause she’s sewing her weddin’ things terrible fast.”

Gray Lady had great difficulty to keep from laughing outright at this burst of confidence, but she never hurt any one’s feelings, and her lips merely curved into a quizzical smile, as she said, “What Clara says about her thimble reminds me to tell you that Ann has a large work-box with plain thimbles of all sizes, scissors, needles, and thread. This I used last winter in the city in teaching some little girls to sew, who were about your ages. I will lend you these things, and then later on, if you do well, you will have a chance to earn work-boxes of your own.”

“Have we boys got to sew, too?” asked Tommy Todd, with a very mischievous expression on his freckled face; “’cause I know how to sew buttons on my overalls, and I can do it tighter’n ma can, so’s they don’t yank off for ever so long!”

“No, I had thought of something quite different for you boys, though it would not be amiss for you all to know how to take a few stitches for yourselves, for you are all liable at some time in your lives to travel in far-away places, and even when you go down to the shore and camp out in summer, buttons will come off and stitches rip.