Animal Sanctuaries in Labrador Part 1

Animal Sanctuaries in Labrador.

by William Wood.

An Appeal

All to whom wild Nature is one of the greatest glories of the Earth, all who know its higher significance for civilized man to-day, and all who consequently prize it as an heirloom for posterity, are asked to help in keeping the animal life of Labrador from being wantonly done to death.

There is nothing to cause disagreement among the three main cla.s.ses of people most interested in wild life--the men whose business depends in any way on animal products, the sportsmen, and the Nature-lovers of every kind. There are very good reasons why the general public should support the scheme. And there are equally good reasons why it should be induced to do so by simply telling it the truth about the senseless extermination that is now going on.

Every reader can help by spreading some knowledge of the subject in his or her home circle. Canada, like all free countries, is governed by public opinion. And sound public opinion, like all other good things, should always begin at home.

The Press can help, as it has helped many another good cause, by giving the subject full publicity. Free use can be made of the present paper in any way desired. It is left non-copyright for this very purpose.

Experts can help by pointing out mistakes, giving information, and making suggestions of their own. And if any of them will undertake to lead, the present author will undertake to follow.

It is proposed to issue a supplement in 1912, containing all the additional information collected in the mean time. Every such item of information will be duly credited to the person supplying it.

All correspondence should be addressed--

COLONEL WOOD, 59, Grande Allee, Quebec.

Animal Sanctuaries in Labrador BY LIEUT.-COLONEL WILLIAM WOOD, F.R.S.C., ETC.

MR. CHAIRMAN AND GENTLEMEN:--

To be quite honest I must begin by saying that I am not a scientific expert on either animals, sanctuaries or Labrador. But, by way of excusing my temerity, I can plead a life-long love of animals, a good deal of experience and study of them--especially down the Lower St.

Lawrence, and considerable attention to sanctuaries in general and their suitability to Labrador in particular. Moreover, I can plead this most pressingly important fact, that a magnificent opportunity is fast slipping away before our very eyes there, without a single effort being made to seize it. I have repeatedly discussed the question with those best qualified to give sound advice--with naturalists, explorers, missionaries, fishermen, furriers, traders, hunters, sportsmen, and many who are accustomed to look ahead into the higher development of our public life. I have also read the books, papers and reports written from up-to-date and first-hand knowledge. And, though I have been careful to consult men who regard such questions from very different points of view, and books showing quite as wide a general divergence, I have found a remarkable consensus of opinion in favour of establis.h.i.+ng a system of sanctuaries before it is too late. I should like to add that any information on the subject, or any correction of what I have written here, will be most welcome. The simple address, Quebec, will always find me. The only special point I would ask correspondents to remember is that even the best recommendations must be adapted to the peculiarities of the Labrador problem, which is new, strange, immense, and full of complex human factors.

Perhaps I might be allowed to explain that I speak simply as a Canadian. I am not connected with any of the material interests concerned. I do not even belong to a Fish and Game club. My only object is to prove, from verifiable facts, that animal life in Labrador is being recklessly and wantonly squandered, that this is detrimental to everyone except the get-rich-quickly people who are ready to destroy any natural resources forever in order to reap an immediate and selfish advantage, that sanctuaries will better conditions in every way, and that the ultimate benefit to Canada--both in a material and a higher sense--will repay the small present expense required, over and over again. And this repayment need not be long deferred. I can show that once the public grasps the issues at stake it will supply enough pet.i.tioners to move any government based on popular support, and that the scheme itself will supply enough money to make the sanctuaries a national a.s.set of the most paying kind, and enough higher human interest to make them priceless as a possession for ourselves and a heritage for all who come after.

If, Sir, you would allow me to make one more preliminary explanation, I should like to say that I have purposely left out all the usual array of statistics. I have, of course, examined them carefully myself, and based my arguments upon them. But I have excluded them from my text because they would have made an already long paper unduly longer, and because they are perfectly accessible to every member of the Commission which I have the honour of addressing to-night.

SANCTUARIES.

A sanctuary may be defined as a place where Man is pa.s.sive and the rest of Nature active. Till quite recently Nature had her own sanctuaries, where man either did not go at all or only as a tool-using animal in comparatively small numbers. But now, in this machinery age, there is no place left where man cannot go with overwhelming forces at his command. He can strangle to death all the n.o.bler wild life in the world to-day. To-morrow he certainly will have done so, unless he exercises due foresight and self-control in the mean time. There is not the slightest doubt that birds and mammals are now being killed off much faster than they can breed. And it is always the largest and n.o.blest forms of life that suffer most. The whales and elephants, lions and eagles, go. The rats and flies, and all mean parasites, remain. This is inevitable in certain cases. But it is wanton killing off that I am speaking of to-night. Civilized man begins by destroying the very forms of wild life he learns to appreciate most when he becomes still more civilized. The obvious remedy is to begin conservation at an earlier stage, when it is easier and better in every way, by enforcing laws for close seasons, game preserves, the selective protection of certain species, and sanctuaries. I have just defined a sanctuary as a place where man is pa.s.sive and the rest of Nature active. But this general definition is too absolute for any special case. The mere fact that man has to protect a sanctuary does away with his purely pa.s.sive att.i.tude. Then, he can be beneficially active by destroying pests and parasites, like bot-flies or mosquitoes, and by finding antidotes for diseases like the epidemic which periodically kills off the rabbits and thus starves many of the carnivora to death. But, except in cases where experiment has proved his intervention to be beneficial, the less he upsets the balance of Nature the better, even when he tries to be an earthly Providence.

In itself a sanctuary is a kind of wild "zoo," on a gigantic scale and under ideal conditions. As such, it appeals to everyone interested in animals, from the greatest zoologist to the mere holiday tourist.

Before concluding I shall give facts to show how well worth while it would be to establish sanctuaries, even if there were no other people to enjoy the benefits. Yet the strongest of all arguments is that sanctuaries, far from conflicting with other interests, actually further them. But unless we make these sanctuaries soon we shall be infamous forever, as the one generation which defrauded posterity of all the preservable wild life that Nature took a million years to evolve into its present beautiful perfection. Only a certain amount of animal life can exist in a certain area. The surplus must go outside.

So sanctuaries are more than wild "zoos", they are overflowing reservoirs, fed by their own springs, and feeding streams of life at every outlet. They serve not only those interested in animal life, but those legitimately interested in animal death, for business, sport or food. I might mention many instances of successful sanctuaries, permanent or temporary, absolute or modified--the Algonquin, Rocky Mountains, Yoho, Glacier, Jasper and Laurentides in Canada; the Yellowstone, Yosemite, Grand Canon, Olympus and Superior in the United States; with the sea-lions of California, the wonderful revival of ibex in Spain and deer in Maine and New Brunswick, the great preserves in Uganda, India and Ceylon, the selective work of Baron von Berlepsch in Germany, the curious result of taboo protection up the Nelson river, and the effects on seafowl in cases as far apart in time and s.p.a.ce as the guano islands under the Incas of Peru, Gardiner island in the United States or the Ba.s.s rock off the coast of Scotland.

Yet I do not ignore the difficulties. First, there is the universal difficulty of introducing or enforcing laws where there have been no operative laws before. Next, there is the difficulty of arousing public opinion on any subject, however worthy, which requires both insight and foresight. Then, we must remember that protected species increasing beyond their special means of subsistence have to seek other kinds of food, sometimes with unfortunate results. And then there are the several special difficulties connected with Labrador.

There are three British governments concerned--Newfoundland, the Dominion and the province of Quebec. There are French and American fishermen along the sh.o.r.e. The proper protection of some migratory species will require co-operation with the United States, perhaps with Mexico and South America for certain birds, and even with Denmark for the Greenland seal. Then, there are the Indians, the whole trade in animal products, the necessity of not interfering with any legitimate development, and the question of immediate expense, however small, for a deferred benefit, however great and near at hand. And, finally, we must remember that scientific knowledge is not by any means adequate to deal with all the factors of the problem at once.

LABRADOR

But in spite of all these and many other difficulties, I firmly believe that Labrador is by far the best country in the world for the best kinds of sanctuary. The first time you're on a lee sh.o.r.e there, in a full gale, you may well be excused for shrinking back from the wild white line of devouring breakers. But when you actually make for them you find the coast opening into archipelagoes of islands, to let you safely through into the snug little "tickles," between island and mainland, where you can ride out the storm as well as you could in a landlocked harbour. This is typical of many another pleasant surprise.

Labrador decidedly improves on acquaintance. The fogs have been grossly exaggerated. The Atlantic seaboard is clearer than the British Isles, which, by the way, lie in exactly the same lat.i.tudes. And the Gulf is far clearer than New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and the Banks. The climate is exceptionally healthy, the air a most invigorating tonic, and the cold no greater than in many a civilized northern land.

Besides, there is a considerable range of temperatures in a country whose extreme north and south lie 1,000 miles apart, one in the lat.i.tude of Greenland, the other in that of Paris. Taking the Labrador peninsula geographically, as including the whole area east of a line run up the Saguenay and on from lake St. John to James bay, it comprises 560,000 square miles--eleven Englands! The actual residents hardly number 20,000. About twice as many outsiders appear off the coasts at certain seasons. So it would take a tenfold increase, afloat and ash.o.r.e, to make one human being to each square mile of land. But, all the same, wild life needs conservation there, and needs it badly, as we shall presently see.

Most of Labrador is a rocky tableland, still rising from the depths, with some old beaches as much as 1,500 feet above the present level of the sea. The St. Lawrence seaboard is famous for its rivers and forests. The Atlantic seaboard has the same myriads of islands, is magnificently bold, is pierced by fiords unexcelled in Norway, and crowned by mountains higher than any others east of the Rockies.

Hamilton inlet runs in 150 miles. At Ramah the cliffs rise sheer three thousand five hundred feet and more. The Four peaks, still untrodden by the foot of man, rise more than twice as high again. And the colouration, of every splendid hue, adds beauty to the grandeur of the scene. Inland, there are lakes up to 100 miles long, big rivers by the score, deep canyons and foaming rapids--to say nothing of the countless waterfalls, of which the greatest equals two Niagaras. This vast country is accessible by sea on three sides, and will soon be accessible by land on the fourth. It lies directly half-way between Great Britain and our own North West and is 1,000 miles nearer London than New York is. Its timber, mines and water-power will be increasingly exploited. It should also become increasingly attractive to the best type of tourist, naturalist and sportsman. But supposing all this does happen. The mines, water-powers and lumbering will only create small towns and villages. There will surely be some conservation to have the forests used and not abused especially by fire: and the white man should remember that he is the worst of all in turning a land from green to black. Except in the southwest and a few isolated spots, the country cannot be farmed. At the same time, the urban population must have communications with the outside world, by which regular supplies can come in. This will make the settlers independent of wild life for necessary food; and wild life, in any case, would be too precarious if exploited in the usual way. The traders in wild-animal products, as well as the naturalists, sportsmen and tourists, are interested in keeping the rest of the country well stocked. So that, one way and another, the human and wild-animal life will not conflict, as they do where farming creates a widespread rural population, or wanton destruction of forests ruins land and water, and human and animal life have to suffer for it afterwards. All the different places required for business spheres of influence in the near future, added to all the business spheres of the present, can hardly exceed the area of one whole England, especially if all suitable areas are not thrown open simultaneously to lumbering, at the risk of the usual bad results. So there will remain ten other Englands, admirably fitted, in all respects, to grow wild life in the most beneficial abundance, and quite able to do so indefinitely, if a reasonable amount of general protection is combined with well-situated sanctuaries.

The fauna is much more richly varied than people who think of Labrador as nothing but an arctic barren are inclined to suppose. The fisheries have been known for centuries, especially the cod, which has a prerogative right to the simple word "fish." There are herring and lobsters in the Gulf, plenty of salmon and trout in most of the rivers, winninish in all the tributary waters of the Hamilton, as well as in lake St. John, whitefish in the lakes, and so forth. Then, the stone-carrying chub is one of the most interesting creatures in the world.... But the fish and fisheries have problems of their own too great for incidental treatment; and I shall pa.s.s on to the birds and mammals.

Yet I must not forget the "flies"--who that has felt them once can ever forget them? Labrador is not a very happy hunting-ground for the entomologist. But all it lacks in variety of kinds it more than makes up in number of individuals, especially in the detestable trio of bot-flies, blackflies and mosquitoes. The bot-fly infests the caribou and will probably infest the reindeer. The blackfly and mosquito attack both man and beast in maddening millions. The mosquito is not malarious. But that is the only bad thing he is not. Destruction is "conservation" so far as "flies," parasites and disease germs are concerned.

Labrador has over 200 species of birds, from humming-birds and sanderlings to eagles, gannets, loons and herons. Among those able to hold their own, with proper encouragement, are the following: two loons, two murres, the puffin, guillemot, razor-billed auk, dovekie and pomarine jaeger; six gulls--ivory, kittiwake, glaucous, great black-back, herring and Bonaparte; two terns--arctic and common; the fulmar, two shearwaters, two cormorants, the red-breasted merganser and the gannet; seven ducks--the black, golden-eye, old squaw and harlequin, with the American, king and Greenland eiders; three scoters; four geese--snow, blue, brant and Canada; two phalaropes, several sandpipers, with the Hudsonian G.o.dwit and both yellowlegs; two snipes; five plovers; and the Eskimo and Hudsonian curlews. These two curlews should be absolutely closed to all shooting everywhere for several seasons. They are on the verge of extinction; and it may even now be too late to save them. The great blue heron and American bittern are not common, but less rare than they are supposed to be.

Except for the willow and rock ptarmigans the land game-birds are not many in kind or numbers. There are a fair number of ruffed grouse in the south, and more spruce grouse in the north. The birds of prey are well represented by a few golden and more bald-headed eagles, the American rough-legged and other hawks, the black and the white gyrfalcons, the osprey, and eight owls, including the great horned owl, the boldest bird of all. The raven is widely distributed all the year round. Several woodp.e.c.k.e.rs, kingfishers, jays, bluebird, kingbird, chickadee, snow bunting; several sparrows, including, fortunately, the white-crowned, white-throat and song, but now, unfortunately, the English as well. There are blackbirds, red-polls, a dozen warblers, the American robin, hermit thrush and ruby-throated humming-bird.

Both the land and sea mammals are of great importance. Several whales are well known. The Right is almost exterminated; but the Greenland, or Bow-head, is found along the edge of the ice in all Hudsonian waters. The Pollock is rare, and the Sperm, or Cachalot, as nearly exterminated as the Right. But the Little-piked, or _rostrata_, is found insh.o.r.e along the north and east, the Bottle-nose on the north, the Humpback on the east and south; and the Finback and Sulphur-bottom are common and widely distributed, especially on the east. The Little White whale, or "White porpoise," is fairly common all round; the Killer is widely distributed, but most numerous on the east, where the Narwhal is also found. The Harbour and Striped porpoises, and the Common and Bottle-nosed dolphins, are chiefly on the east and south.

There are six Seals--the Harbour, Ringed, Harp, Bearded, Grey and Hooded. The Harbour seal is also called the "Common" and the "Wise"

seal, and is the _vitulina_ of zoology. It is common all round the coasts, and the Indians of the interior a.s.sert that many live permanently in the lakes. Big and Little Seal lakes are more than 100 miles from the nearest salt water. The Ringed seal is locally called "floe rat" and "gum seal." It is the smallest and least valuable of all, and fairly common all round. The Harp seal is "seal," in the same way as cod is "fish." It has various local names, five among the French-Canadians alone, but is specifically known as the Greenland seal. The young, immediately after birth, have a fine white coat, which makes them valuable. The herds are followed on a large scale at the end of the winter season, which is also the whelping season, and hundreds of thousands are killed, females and young preponderating.

They are still common along the east and south, but diminis.h.i.+ng steadily, especially in the St. Lawrence. The Bearded, or "Square-flipper," seal is rare in the St. Lawrence and on the Atlantic, but commoner in Hudsonian waters. It is a large seal, eight feet long, and bulky in proportion. The Grey, or Horse-head, seal runs up to about the same size occasionally and is one of the gamest animals that swims. It is rare on the Atlantic and not common anywhere on the St. Lawrence. The "Hoods" are the largest of all and the lions of the lot. They run up to 1,000 pounds and over, and sometimes fourteen feet long. They are rare on the Atlantic and decreasing along the St. Lawrence, owing to the Newfoundland hunters. The Walrus, formerly abundant all round, is now rarely seen except in the far north, where he is fast decreasing.

Moose may feel their way in by the southwest to an increasing extent, and might possibly be reinforced by the Alaskan variety. Red deer might possibly be induced to enter by the same way in fair numbers over a limited area. The woodland caribou is almost exterminated, but might be resuscitated. The barren-ground caribou is still plentiful in the north, where most of the herds appear to migrate in an immense ellipse, crossing from west to east, over the barrens, in the fall, to the Atlantic, and then turning south and west through the woods in winter, till they reach their original starting-point near Hudson bay in the spring. But this is not to be counted on. The herds divide, change direction, and linger in different places. Their tame brother, the reindeer, is being introduced as the chief domestic animal of Eastern Labrador, with apparently every prospect of success. Beaver are fairly common and widely distributed in forested areas. Other rodents are frequent--squirrels, musk-rats, mice, voles, lemmings, hares and porcupines. There are two bats. Black bears are general; polars, in the north. Grizzlies have been traded at Fort Chimo in Ungava, but they are probably all killed out. The lynx is common wherever there are woods. There are two wolves, arctic and timber, the latter now rare in the south. The Labrador red fox is very common in the woods, and the "white," or arctic fox, in the barrens and further south on both coasts. The "cross," "silver" and "black" variations of course occur, as they naturally increase towards the northern limits of range. The "blue" is a seasonal change of the "white." The wolverine and otter are common. The skunk is only known in the southwest. The mink ranges through the southern third of the peninsula. The Labrador marten, or "sable," is a sub-species, generally distributed in the forested parts, like the weasel. The "fisher," or Pennant's marten, is much more local, ranging only between the "North Sh.o.r.e" and Mista.s.sini.

From the St. Lawrence to the Barren Grounds three-fourths of the land has been burnt over since the white man came. The resultant loss of all forms of life may be imagined, especially when we remember that the fire often burns up the very soil itself, leaving nothing but rocks and black desolation. Still, there is plenty of fur and feather worth preserving. But nothing can save it unless conservation replaces the present reckless destruction.

DESTRUCTION

When rich virgin soil is first farmed it yields a maximum harvest for a minimum of human care. But presently it begins to fail, and will fail altogether unless man returns to it in one form some of the richness he expects to get from it in another. Now, exploited wild life fails even faster under wasteful treatment; but, on the other hand, with hardly any of the trouble required for continuous farming, quickly recovers itself by being simply let alone. So when we consider how easily it can be preserved in Labrador, and how beneficial its preservation is to all concerned, we can understand how the wanton destruction going on there is quite as idiotic as it is wrong.

Take "egging" as an example. The Indians, Eskimos and other beasts of prey merely preserved the balance of nature by the toll they used to take. No beast of prey, not even the white man, will destroy his own stock supply of food. But with the nineteenth century came the white-man market "eggers", systematically taking or destroying every egg in every place they visited. Halifax, Quebec and other towns were centres of the trade. The "eggers" increased in numbers and thoroughness till the eggs decreased in the more accessible spots below paying quant.i.ties. But other egging still goes on unchecked. The game laws of the province of Quebec distinctly state: "It is forbidden to take nests or eggs of wild birds at any time". But the swarms of fishermen who come up the north sh.o.r.e of the St. Lawrence egg wherever they go. If they are only to stay in the same spot for a day or two, they gather all the eggs they can, put them into water, and throw away every one that floats. Sometimes three, four, five or even ten times as many are thrown away as are kept, and all those bird lives lost for nothing. Worse still, if the men are going to stay long enough they will often go round the nests and make sure of smas.h.i.+ng every single egg. Then they come back in a few days and gather every single egg, because they know it has been laid in the mean time and must be fresh. When we remember how many thousands of men visit the sh.o.r.e, and that the resident population eggs on its own account, at least as high up as the Pilgrims, only 100 miles from Quebec, we need not be prophets to foresee the inevitable end of all bird life when subjected to such a drain. And this is on the St. Lawrence, where there are laws and wardens and fewer fishermen. What about the Atlantic Labrador, where there are no laws, no wardens, many more fishermen, and ruthless compet.i.tive egging between the residents and visitors? Of course, where people must egg or starve there is nothing more to be said. But this sort of egging is very limited, not enough to destroy the birds, and the necessity for it will become less frequent as other sources of supply become available. It is the utterly wanton destruction that is the real trouble.

And it is just as bad with the birds as with the eggs. A schooner captain says, "Now, boys, here's your butcher shop: help yourselves!"

and this, remember, is in the brooding season. Not long ago the men from a vessel in Cross harbour landed on an islet full of eiders and killed every single brooding mother. Such men have grown up to this, and there is that amount of excuse for them. Besides, they ate the birds, though they destroyed the broods. Yet, as they always say, "We don't know no law here," it may be suspected that they do know there really is one. These men do a partly excusable wrong. But what about those who ought to know better? In the summer of 1907 an American millionaire's yacht landed a party who shot as many brooding birds on St. Mary island as they chose, and then left the bodies to rot and the broods to perish. That was, presumably, for sport. For the same kind of sport, motor boats cut circles round diving birds, drown them, and let the bodies float away. The North Sh.o.r.e people have drowned myriads of moulting scoters in August; but they use the meat. b.e.s.t.i.a.l forms of sport are many and vile. "C'est un plaisir superbe" was the description given by some voyageurs on exploring work, who had spent the afternoon chasing young birds about the rocks and stamping them to death. Deer were literally hacked to pieces by construction gangs on new lines last summer. Dynamiting a stream is quite a common trick wherever it is safe to play it. Harbour seals are wantonly shot in deep fresh water where they cannot be recovered, much as seagulls are shot by blackguards from an ocean liner.

And the worst of it is that all this wanton destruction is not by any means confined to the ignorant or those who have been brought up to it. The men from the American yacht must have known better. So do those educated men from our own cities, who shoot out of season down the St. Lawrence and plead, quite falsely, that there is no game law below the Brandy Pots. It is, of course, well understood that a man can always shoot for necessary food. But this provision is shamelessly misused. Last summer, when a great employer of labour down the Gulf was telling where birds could be shot to the greatest advantage out of season, and I was objecting that it was not clean sport, he said, "Oh, but Indians can shoot for food at any time--_and we're all Indians here!"_ And what are we to think of a rich man who used caribou simply as targets for his new rifle, and a scientific man who killed 72 in one morning, only to make a record? We need the true ideal of sport and an altogether new ideal of conservation, and we need them very badly and very soon.

We have had our warnings. The great auk and the Labrador duck have both become utterly extinct within living memory. The Eskimo curlew is decreasing to the danger point, and the Yellowlegs is following. The lobster fis.h.i.+ng is being wastefully conducted along the St. Lawrence; so, indeed, are the other fisheries. Whales are diminis.h.i.+ng: the Cape Charles and Hawke Harbour establishments are running, but those at L'Anse au Loup and Seven islands are not. The whole whaling industry is disappearing all over the world before the uncontrolled persecution of the new steam whalers. The walrus is exterminated everywhere in Labrador except in the north. The seals are diminis.h.i.+ng. Every year the hunters are better supplied with better implements of butchery.

The catch is numbered by the hundreds of thousands, and this only for one fleet in one place at one season, when the Newfoundlanders come up the St. Lawrence at the end of the winter. The woodland caribou has been killed off to such an extent as to cause both Indians and wolves to die off with him. The barren-ground caribou is still plentiful, though decreasing. The dying out of so many Indians before the time of the Low and Eaton expedition of 1893-4 led to an increase of fur-bearing animals. But renewed, improved, increased and uncontrolled trapping has now reduced them below their former level. Hunting for the market seems to be going round in a vicious circle, always narrowing in on the quarry, which must ultimately be strangled to death. The white man comes in with better equipment, more systematic methods and often a "get-rich-and-get-out" idea that never entered a native head. The Indian has to go further afield. The white follows.

Their prey shrinks back in diminis.h.i.+ng numbers before them both.

Prices go up. The hunt becomes keener, the animals fewer and farther off. Presently hunters and hunted will reach the far side of the utmost limits. And then traded, traders and trade will all disappear together. And it might so well be otherwise.

There is another point that should never be pa.s.sed over. In these days the public conscience is beginning to realize that the objection to man's cruelty towards his other fellow-beings is something more than a fad or a fancy. And wanton slaughter is very apt to be accompanied by shameless cruelty. To kill off parents when the young are helpless....

But I have already given enough sickening details of this. The treatment of the adults is almost worse in many typical cases. An Indian will skin a hare alive and gloat over his quivering death-agonies. The excuse is, "white man have fun, Indian have fun, too." And it is a valid excuse, from one point of view. When "there's nothing in caribou" except the value of the tongue, the tongue has been cut out of the living deer, whose only other value is considered to be the amus.e.m.e.nt afforded by his horrible fate. And, fiendish cruelty like this is not confined to the outer wilds. When some civilized English-speaking bird-catchers get a bird they do not want, they will deliberately wrench its bill apart, so that it must die of lingering starvation. Sometimes the cruelty is done to man himself.

Not so many years ago some whalers secured a lot of walrus hides and tusks by having a whole herd of walrus wiped out, in spite of the fact that these animals were, at that very time, known to be the only food available for a neighbouring tribe of Eskimos. The Eskimos were starved to death, every soul among them, as the Government explorers found out. But Eskimos have no votes and never write to the papers; while walrus hides were booming in the markets of civilization.

Things like these are not much spoken of. They very rarely appear in print. And when they are mentioned at all it is generally with an apology for introducing unpleasant details. But I am sure I need not apologize to gentlemen who are anxious to know the full truth of this great question, who cannot fail to see the connection between wanton destruction and revolting cruelty, and who must be as ready to rouse the moral conscience of our people against the cruelty as they are to rouse its awakening sense of conservation against the destruction.