IN THE October number of Birds and All Nature was an article containing a list of the enemies of song birds and ordering their banishment, if one would enjoy the presence of the little songsters. Included in the list were the blue jays. There was also an article entitled, "A new Champion for the English Sparrow."

I always rejoice when someone comes forward in defense of the despised class, finding them not wholly faulty. The same hand created all, and surely each must be of some use. I feel like saying something in favor of the blue jay. I am sure that all will acknowledge that the jay has a handsome form and rare and beautiful plumage, which at least makes him "a thing of beauty;" he may not be "a joy forever," but surely a delight to the eye. Formerly my home was in northern Iowa, living many years in one place in a town of about 6,000 inhabitants. Our lawn was spacious for a town, filled with shrubbery and trees, both evergreen and deciduous. We did not encourage cats, usually keeping dishes of water here and there for the accommodation of the birds, and other attractions which they seemed to appreciate, as numerous migratory birds came each season, taking up their abode with us, to their evident enjoyment and giving us much pleasure. The jays were always with us, were petted and as they became friendly and tame, naturally we were much attached to them. The limb of a tree growing very close to a back veranda had been sawed off and a board nailed on the top forming a table, where we daily laid crumbs and a number of jays as regularly came after them. They were fond of meat and almost anything from the table. I found the jay to be a provident bird; after satisfying his appetite he safely buried the remainder of his food. I often noticed them concealing acorns and other nuts in hollow places in the trees, and noticed also that they were left till a stormy day which prevented them from finding food elsewhere as usual. I saw one bury a bit of meat under leaves near a dead flower twig; there came a rather deep fall of snow that night, but the bird managed to find it the next day with little difficulty and flew off with a cry of delight. The jay nested on the grounds, but that did not seem to prevent other birds from coming in great numbers and variety and making their little homes there also. I recall one year which was but a repetition of most of the years. The jays had a nest in a crab apple tree, a cat bird nested in a vine close to the house, a robin came familiarly to one of the veranda pillars in front of the house and built her solid nest of mud and grass. A brown thrush took a dense spruce for her nesting-place. A blackbird, to my surprise, built a nest in a fir tree. A grosbeak built a nest on a swaying branch of a willow at the back of the lot, and a bluebird occupied a little house we had put in a walnut tree for her convenience.

The orioles were always in evidence, usually making their appearance in early May when the fruit trees were in bloom; first seen busily looking the trees over for insects. Generally they selected an outreaching branch of a cottonwood tree, often near where they could be watched from a veranda, building their graceful nests and caring for their little ones. The chattering little wrens never questioned our friendliness, but always built loose little nests quite within our reach, either in a box we provided for them or over the door; at the same time others had their little homes in cozy places in the barn, or in the loose bark of an old tree. Each bird attended to its own affairs without perceptible molestation from others, as a rule. It was evident, however, that the jays were not tolerated in company with other birds to any great extent, and I fancy they had a rather bad reputation, for I noticed the birds took a defensive position often when a jay made its appearance near their homes without any apparent evil intent, that I could discover. I would sometimes see as many as five varieties of birds after one jay; they were always victors, too. The robin, I always observed, could defend himself against a jay, never seemed afraid to do so, and indeed seemed to be the aggressor. The blue jay may be a sly bird, a "robber and a thief," though I never detected those traits to any especial extent; but he is handsome and brightens the winter landscape. To be sure, I found that he was fond of green peas and corn and did not hesitate in helping himself, also sampling the bright Duchess apples. The robin is equally fond of all small fruits, and greedy as well.

The bluebirds came regularly in the early spring for years, then ceased apparently when the sparrows made their appearance. The sparrows made many attempts to usurp the little house provided especially for the bluebird, but were not allowed to do so and never gained a footing on the premises; still the little spring harbinger ever after kept aloof from us. In the winter season the English sparrow came occasionally to share the bluejays' tidbits, but was promptly repulsed, although other birds came freely. The dainty little snowbird, several kinds of woodpeckers, now and then a chickadee, and some other winter birds came also. I had ways of enticing the birds to come near where I could watch their habits and peculiarities. All birds fear cats. There are cats and cats—some never molest birds or little chickens, but, as a rule, they seem to be their natural enemies. Little boys, I am sorry to say, cause great destruction of birds, often thoughtlessly, by trying their marksmanship. I would banish every "sling shot!" It is even worse than taking eggs, for they are generally replaced; but when the mother-bird is taken a little brood is left helpless to suffer and die. Thoughtful kindness towards little birds should be encouraged among children. I would have one day each year devoted to the subject in all public schools. It would bring birds under the observation of many who otherwise would pass them by unnoticed, and when one takes an interest in anything, be it flowers or birds, he or she is less likely to cause their destruction.