Buffalo herds have gone; they have succumbed to the rifles of the
hunters. The Antelope droves are nearly gone; Hound and lead were too
much for them. The Blacktail bands have dwindled before axe and fence.
The ancient dwellers of the Badlands have faded like snow under the new
conditions, but the Coyotes are no more in fear of extinction. Their
morning and evening song still sounds from the level buttes, as it did
long years ago when every plain was a teeming land of game. They have
learned the deadly secrets of traps and poisons, they know how to baffle
the gunner and Hound, they have matched their wits with the hunter's
wits. They have learned how to prosper in a land of man-made plenty, in
spite of the worst that man can do, and it was Tito that taught them
how.






WHY THE CHICKADEE GOES CRAZY ONCE A YEAR


Published September, 1893, in "Our Animal Friends," the organ of the
American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals

A long time ago, when there was no winter in the north, the Chickadees
lived merrily in the woods with their relatives, and cared for nothing
but to get all the pleasure possible out of their daily life in the
thickets. But at length Mother Carey sent them all a warning that they
must move to the south, for hard frost and snow were coming on their
domains, with starvation close behind. The Nuthatches and other cousins