The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1882-07-14
DON'T SHOOT AT THE BIRDS.

DON'T SHOOT AT THE BIRDS,
Last spring us boys were having a
splendid time with our rubber shooters;
every boy in the neighborhood had one
or more. None of our mothers liked it.;
some windows got broken. and when
one or two little birds got killed. it
made them very angry.
There was a bluebird that built its
nest year after year in an elm-tree
close to one of our windows. One day
my mother saw boy shooting at it; he
didn't hit, but she made up her mind it
was time for the shooting to stop. and
when, not long after, little Willie Brand
had his eye most put out, they all
thought so. There was fuss about it.
There were pieces in the paper about
how rubber shooters were dangerous
things, and then the police came about
and said that every boy that shot would
have to pay five dollars for it. They
all thought that more than they could
stand, SO they stopped. Mother had
given me ten cents for mine, long ago,
and burnt it, so I was glad when the
other fellows had to stop.
This year we thought we'd have a
little fun, and kept quiet about it.
Jim Barlow made mine, and it was a
first-rate shooter, I tell goa; gave him
my top and skate-srap and thirty
marbles for it; he said 'twould shoot
equal to a revolver. was very careful
how l used it, for 1 didn't want mother
f, hot II ho1 T 20 Oh
at stray dogs and cats, though it did
make me feel bad sometimes, to hear
'em howl if l hit 'em. l used to shoot
at the knot-hole in the barn-door, too, to
see how many times in twenty / could
shoot in. 1t wasn't much fun when we
had to keep out of the way all the time.
One day was wandering about the
lower end of the garden with my
shooter. There were plenty of birds
all around, but did not want to shoot
at them, if could find anything else to
shoot at. got over the fence into an
other lot, but still there were birds
everywhere. 1 shot few times, just
to brighten them little. Then heard
one singing beautifully right over my
head. I couldn't see it very plainly,
and don't believe l meant to hit it at
all, and 1 tell you 1 was frightened
when it came falling right down at my
feet, with sad kind of little scream
picked it up and tried to make it
fly, or walk, but it would motifs pretty
eyes were half shut, and it kept painting
with its bill 1t was bluebird. I
knew l could never keep it from
II hor
anything dreadful, always feel as if I
was lost till I've been and told her. As
I carried the poor bird through the
garden, drop of blood fell from its
mouth, right on to a great white lily
that seemed looking up to ask me what
l had been doing. Mother was stand
ing near the back piazza; as laid the
bird in her hand. it stopped painting
and was still.
Mother said: "What's the matterp"
But there was such a lump in my
throat, couldn't speak word. Then
she saw the shooter in my hand, and
she said:
"Did you Kill that little bird?''
1 tell you it scared me, the way she
spoke. Inever heard her speak in such
an awful voice before.
Then she said: '.You have stolen away
its little life-it was all the life it had.
The Lord loves His helpless little
creatures; He gave them to us to make
us happy, and He will never bless those
who are cruel to them"
Then she put the little bird up to her
cheek, and l saw the tears come. She
took the shooter and laid it on the kitchen
fire. l didn't get any ten cents this
time, you may be sure. and then she
said:
"You may 90 to your room"
I'd great deal rather she'd whipped
me than to have to go there and just
have to keep thinking. thought of all
the beautiful days of sunshine 1 had
taken away from that poor little bird,
and how it would never fly through the
air, or sing in the trees, or see the
flowers and the grass any more. And
[ wondered if it had nest and little
birds, and what would become of them
if it had.
And all of a sudden 1 jumped up, as
l thought of the bluebird that had come
to build its nest near us for so many
summers. As soon as mother let me
out Git wasn't very soon, for she gave
me plenty of time to think), ran to
her nest. The little birds all held their
heads straight up, and opened their
big little mouths, so almost knew their
mother hadn't fed them for some time.
l fed them the best I could, and l
watched that evening to see if their
mother'd come, but she didn't.
Before went to bed got piece of
soft cotton, and covered 'em up.
thought, you see. if took good care of
'em they might live without their moth
er. But in the morning only two of
them held up their heads to be fed,
and before night they were all dead.
So you see had taken away all the
sunshine from them, too. My sisters
cried when they knew their little birds
and their mother were all dead.
1 don't think l want another shooter.
don't believe I'll ever see another
white lily but what il II say to me: ..You
killed that bluebirdr'- Youtfs Coapan-
ion.