For One Species To Mourn The Death

The Wind That Makes Music In November Corn Is In A Hurry. The Stalks Hum, The Loose Husks Whisk Skyward In Half-playing Swirls, And The Wind Hurries On.... A Tree Tries To Argue, Bare Limbs Waving, But There Is No Detaining The Wind.

Relegating Conservation To Government Is Like Relegating Virtue To The Sabbath. Turns Over To Professionals What Should Be Daily Work Of Amateurs .

If Education Really Educates, There Will, In Time, Be More And More Citizens Who Understand That Relics Of The Old West Add Meaning And Value To The New. Youth Yet Unborn Will Pole Up The Missouri With Lewis And Clark, Or Climb The Sierras With James Capen Adams, And Each Generation In Turn Will Ask: Where Is The Big White Bear? It Will Be A Sorry Answer To Say He Went Under While Conservationists Weren't Looking.

If In A City We Had Six Vacant Lots Available To The Youngsters Of A Certain Neighborhood For Playing Ball, It Might Be "development" To Build Houses On The First, And The Second, And The Third, And The Fourth, And Even The Fifth, But When We Build Houses On The Last One, We Forget What Houses Are For.

In Farm Country, The Plover Has Only Two Real Enemies: The Gully And The Drainage Ditch. Perhaps We Shall One Day Find That These Are Our Enemies, Too.