An act to prevent the destruction of small and harmless birds (1850)

On March 6, 1850, New Jersey passed the first law in the United States offering protection for specific songbirds. As we've seen previously, states already had laws describing close seasons for game birds. Massachusetts, which had pointed to "insectivorous birds" in its 1818 "useful bird" law, only really protected the robin and meadowlark, and then only during breeding season. The anti-trespassing section of that law was the part that was supposed to prevent the unwanted shooting of birds generally.

New Jersey's law, however, pointed to specific non-game birds. It made it illegal "except upon his premises" to shoot or kill or destroy or willfully destroy the eggs of the following "birds" at any time of the year [I've retained the original spellings and have tried to identify the species in italics using current names]:

Night or musquito hawk Common Nighthawk
Chimney swallow Chimney Swift
Barn swallow
Martin or swift Purple Martin and other swallow species
whippowil Eastern Whip-poor-will
Cuckoo Yellow-billed Cuckoo and Black-billed Cuckoo
Kingbird or bee martin Eastern Kingbird

Woodpecker (all species)

Claip or high hole Northern Flicker

Catbird Gray Catbird

Wren (all species)
Bluebird Eastern Bluebird
Meadow lark Eastern Meadowlark
Brown thrusher Brown Thrasher
Dove Mourning Dove
Firebird or summer redbird Scarlet Tanager

Hanging bird Baltimore Oriole

Ground robin or chewink Eastern Towhee

Bobolink or ricebird
Robin American Robin
Snow or chipping bird Dark-eyed Junco and Chipping Sparrow, thought to be winter/summer variations of the same bird
Sparrow (all species)
Carolina lit Carolina Chickadee
Warbler (all species)
Bat (all species)
Blackbird Common Grackle, Red-winged Blackbird
Blue Jay
The small owl Eastern Screech Owl

It is hard to know where to start with this list. Maybe with "bat"? Clearly there was little expert ornithological input. Indeed, despite the availability of relatively inexpensive guides to the birds of Eastern North America, it was incoherent, incomplete, and filled with misspellings. Nevertheless, it was a turning point in US legal protection for non-game birds, particularly those (blackbird, blue jay) often considered "harmful."

Later in the year, Connecticut would pass a law of its own, "An act to prevent the destruction of certain small birds." It was apparently modeled after the New Jersey law, though its list was slightly shorter (and its spelling more secure):

Robin

Blue-bird
Swallow
Martin or swift

Night or mosquito-hawk
Whip-poor-will
Cuckoo
King-bird
Wake-up or high-hole Northern Flicker
Woodpecker
Cat-bird
Long-tailed thrush or brown thrasher
Mourning-dove

Meadow-lark or marsh quail
Fire bird or summer red bird
Hanging bird
Spider bird or wax bird Cedar Waxwing
Ground robin or chewheat
Bob-o-link or rice bird

Sparrow

A look at the activity in the Connecticut legislature around this act reveals some (unsuccessful) attempts to amend the list. Efforts to remove the king-bird and brown thrasher failed. Efforts to add the crow failed. The blackbird, wren, quail, hummingbird, rose-breasted grosbeak, and phebe were added the following year. The presence of the widely reviled cedar waxwing is of particular interest.

Vermont would pass a similar law in 1851; Massachusetts in 1855. According to T.S. Palmer's (1902) Legislation for the protection of birds other than game birds, by 1864 these kinds of laws would be in place in 12 states plus the District of Columbia.

Successful passage of these laws was harder in some states than others. Bird-related laws were relatively stable in New Jersey and Connecticut in the ten years prior to their new "small birds" laws. In New Hampshire, by comparison, there was considerable activity. A look at legislation from that period reveals failed attempts to pass laws protecting "partridges and the smaller innoxious birds" and a successful attempt (after a number of failed attempts) to establish a bounty for crows (immediately followed by (unsuccessful) attempts to repeal the law). Among the most interesting of the bills proposed was one protecting passenger pigeons against the "wanton, mischievous and malicious acts of sportsmen, idlers, and vagrants." Apparently, shooting into the assembled flocks disturbed the efforts of professional pigeon netters, causing them economic hardship. (A version of this law actually passed in Massachusetts).

Bird Laws reconsidered (1845-1849)

By the mid-to-late 1840s, it was clear that public opinion--that is opinion as articulated and debated in the (northern) agricultural, religious, and general press--was on the side of bird protection. Those who publicly disagreed were constrained to argue for the destruction of certain birds at certain times and even then they could expect fierce opposition. An interesting symptom: The American Farmer awarded a prize for the top essay on "the best means of preventing the destruction of various crops by birds, insects, &c). The winning essay, published in March 1849, was one that reframed the bird topic to focus on their protection rather than the prevention of their depredations.

Nevertheless, the prevailing opinion did not seem to be making much of an impact on the ongoing actual destruction of birds. This led some authors to despair. A correspondent to the American Agriculturist (November 1849) under the title "Spare the Birds," complained,

It is no use preaching this doctrine . It never will be practised before men suffer just as the coffee planters in Madagascar did. [This was another celebrated case where birds were destroyed and harmful insects thrived.] Children are educated from infancy to destroy the birds, instead of studying their habits.

Discussion turned again to legal solutions. In its January 1845 edition, The Farmers' Cabinet and American Herd-book ran a report from a subcommittee of the Philadelphia Agricultural Society charged with inquiring into existing laws "restraining gunners from trespassing on farms and destroying birds in this county &c."  The report found that the laws in neighboring counties were in fact surprisingly sufficient. As early as 1760, there had been laws in place requiring permission from landowners to use guns on their lands. This was revised in 1821 to include a more severe penalty. The most recent laws (1844), prescribed a close season (March-August) on robins, flickers, bluebirds, woodpeckers, sapsuckers, thrushes, or "other insectiverous bird." [my emphasis]. The caveat: anyone had the right to shoot any bird on their own property at any time.

The real problem, according to the report, was lack of compliance. There was little farmers could do about the "lawless, idle, and desperate" class increasingly generated by cities. That was society's problem, caused by the neglect of the "rod and the Bible." The report urged agricultural communities to come together and make a show of enforcement by hiring agents to be at hand to arrest trespassers. (Note how little progress had been made, despite the laws, by looking back at one of the earliest agricultural paper accounts of this problem).

Despite the problem of compliance, which would haunt the bird protection movement into the Audubon Society era, some called for the broadening of existing laws and the creation of laws nationwide. L. Wetherell, writing in The Genesee Farmer (June 1849), for example, was encouraged by the recent update to Massachusetts bird law ("An Act for the Better Preservation of Useful Birds") which extended close seasons on certain game birds and banned the killing of robins and larks during any season, calling it a "comprehensive law" [it wasn't, really] because "all birds are 'useful birds'--not excepting even the Crow, the least beloved, and the most universally persecuted of land birds."

Would that there might be a similar law enacted by the Legislatures of all the States of this great Republic.

When the destruction of certain birds was legally permitted, even encouraged, that left the door open to wanton depravity.

What considerate father or guardian can equip his boy with a musket to go abroad into the field, orchards, hedges and woods to shoot birds! They go out some of them, it is true, professedly for the purpose of shooting what are called, "noxious birds." But they return and exhibit as the fruits of their success not unfrequently a collection of robins, orioles, warblers &c &c.

The New England Farmer (which had just been resurrected under a new publishing regime), ran an article from the Boston Patriot (May 26, 1849) arguing that such legislation needed to be informed by the "labors of the scientific ornithologist." Contrary to Wetherell's wishful thinking, Massachusetts still called out several species for persecution.

[A] war to the knife is declared against crows, blackbirds, owls, blue jays, and hawks: these…are treated as a sort of pirates, subject to suspension at the yard-arm…It so happens that the character of these very birds has been singularly mistaken; for while the ordinance of legislation has been thus systematically levelled at them, they, on the principle which man would do extremely well to imitate, have been returning good for evil.

On June 9, 1849, the New England Farmer ran a comprehensive "useful birds" article that repeated Wetherell's call.

Since the great utility of birds is well known to every one who reflects on the subject, how important that they be protected, and encouraged to be the familiar associates and assistants of the farmer and gardener! We should have laws throughout the country [my emphasis] from their protection against the heartless sportsman, or cruel boys, who would kill the innocent and useful birds, or rob their nests. In some towns, it has been wisely ordained that no birds shall be killed or entrapped; and this subject is worthy the attention of every town. 

(Regrettably,  the editorial staff of the Farmer did not seem to possess a high level of ornithological knowledge, using a cutting of a European goldfinch as the article's header).


By the end of 1850, the bird protection movement would have its first "model laws," explicitly protecting non-game birds, courtesy of the legislatures of the states of New Jersey and Connecticut.

"To the Girls" (The American Agriculturist, 1846)

The American Agriculturist, published in New York City, burst onto the agricultural periodical scene in April, 1842. While its editors' agricultural experience may not have been as deep as that of the old timers running other farm papers, its editorial vision was state-of-the-art. It stressed original content while other publications relied on copious borrowings from their exchange networks. Every issue included an extensive summary of items from overseas agricultural publications. And it introduced sections, such as a "Ladies' Department," to broaden its readership. Its innovations brought tension, the Agriculturist's editors frequently complaining when other farm papers stole their original material, particularly their foreign news summaries--the subscriptions to such papers costing a substantial sum.

In its May 1846 issue the Agriculturist ran an article in the Ladies' Department directly addressing girls. We've talked previously about the gendering of bird protection. "To the Girls" made explicit the special role girls were to play in this project. The editorial persona, "Old Lady," began:

For a long time I have wished to have some communication with my young friends, the country girls, and bespeak their aid in the protection of our mutual pets, the birds, that are inviting our attention and kindness by their sweet songs and gentle and coquettish ways. They flock around our dwellings, and, if properly invited and noticed, accept our hospitality and repay us a thousand fold for all that we bestow upon them. When we take the trouble to provide a few houses for them, how readily are they taken possession of, and how fiercely guarded, should an intruder dare to rob them of their home; showing how dear to them is their possession, and giving us the assurance that nothing is required but shelter and protection to have flocks around us, and they sufficiently tame to be our household friends and companions. But especial care should then be taken to guard against the thousand dangers that beset them in the shape of boys and cats, their mortal enemies [my emphasis]; and worse than useless will have been all our trouble, if these deadly foes are suffered to molest them...The following notes ... I offer to you now, that you may be in time to prepare the houses, get rid of the cats, and persuade the boys by kind entreaty and gentle remonstrance to suspend their hostility, for their own interest as well as your own gratification. 

"Old Lady" proceeded to offer long passages from her "journal" detailing her observations of a pair of song sparrows as they fed their nestlings, calculating, like Bradley's correspondent, the number of worms (320) that must have been destroyed in a day, thus preserving her flowers and fruits.

 Now, my dear girls, can any of you read this extract and not feel grateful, not only to the Old Lady, but the sweet birds who are rendering you so much service whether you do anything for them or not?

She went on to detail the benefits and encouragement of several species: sparrows, swallows, catbirds, bluebirds, and wrens that can be tamed and observed, warning, appropriately that bluebird and wren boxes "should be kept at a respectful distance" from each other.

The gendering here is obvious, the stress on domestication (tame "pets") and "sweetness" and "gentleness" being rather prominent. At the same time, the "fierceness" of responses to threats to the home would be something informing future bird protection efforts. Observing the insect-damaged fruit that might have been saved had cats not destroyed so many bird nests, she responded:

"Alas no! and all this from my ungrateful cats; so the cats, petted and beloved as they have been, must die, all but Tabby, who shall be taught better things if possible."

Love for birds produced a strikingly ruthless attitude towards cats. 

Bird protection and the moral education of children (1845)

In its July 1845 issue, the Genesee Farmer printed a short article titled, "Good influence of birds." Like "J.T." (last post), the author stressed the role of birds in "humanizing" their observers.

Birds that come around our houses should be protected. Their influence is good on us and our children. Their hymns go up when we are silent; they never forget the song of praise and thanksgiving. It is well for us to listen to them, and be humanized by the kindly lessons they teach us. …The child who has watched for the coming of the birds, and has heard the notes of the robin near his chamber window, will feel their influence in after life as a holy remembered thing. No tone of music shall ever fall on this ear like that thrilling song in the dim twilight of early morning. It may strike on his memory when he will need it most, and the scenes and innocence of childhood will come to him again to bear him up.--Encourage this love for these things of nature, ye who would bring up your children in purity and peace. No after-teachings can give such holy feeling, and the impressions they make shall never be forgotten.

To some extent this advice was linked to an early "nature study" pedagogical philosophy, which, like the bird protection movement, would take another fifty years to fully flower. Some of this thinking made its way into the farm press. For example, Andrew McDowell, writing in the Prairie Farmer (August, 1845), encouraged parents to allow their young children a chance to play in the woods and fields:

The grand secret in teaching children I believe is, not to tire them. And it is much better to have them spare a little time from their play to go through their lessons, than to have them find between their lessons only a little time for play. Between the ages of three and six years is the time of all others when the child is most anxious to cultivate an acquaintance with the beasts and birds, the woods and pleasant fields, by which he is surrounded. All the objects of nature that he sees, animate and inanimate, voiceless and mute, become teachers to him; and with the kind voice of his parents near him, to answer the questions which these objects suggest to him, he is thus under the teachings of nature obtaining the requisites for becoming a good scholar and a great man, more rapidly than to be shut up in a school room, under the tutelage of the best teacher in Christendom.

William Bacon, writing in the November 1846 Cultivator ("The District School House"), believed nature study was essential for future farmers, and not just for practical reasons:

To the cultivators of the soil, this love of nature, so kindly planted in every bosom, is certainly a desirable quality, and should be cultivated with care in proportion as they would succeed in threading the mazy labyrinthine walks of their every day employments. Let it be cherished then in the young botanist who commences dissecting flower and admiring their colors before he can utter his parents' name, or has power to sustain himself by his own exertion. Teach him, too, when his ear first opens to sweet sounds, and before his tongue can utter perverse sayings, that the birds whose music prompts his mirth and causes him to clap his little hands in joyful glee in chorus to their melody, that these sweet musicians of the grover were sent not only to gladden the heart of man by their pretty warbling songs, but that they are the ministers of his comfort in destroying myriads of insects which would scatter desolation in his path, and destroy his fairest hopes of plenteous harvests. 

"Good influence of birds" was reprinted in the New England Farmer on July 9, but it had wider distribution outside of the farm press, reprinted in the Primitive Expounder (September 4, 1845) and the Gospel Teacher and Sabbath School Contributor (April 15, 1846), as well as the temperance paper, Crystal Fount and Rechabite Recorder (October 5, 1845). Indeed, bird protection texts commonly flowed between agricultural publications and the religious press. 

That bird protection had already been institutionalized as a Sunday school theme can be easily seen by The Bird-Book, published in 1844 by the American Sunday-School Union. Ostensibly a primer for young readers on bird themes, The Bird-Book seemingly incorporated any bird-related biblical passage it could find into its lessons. In the first chapter, for example, young Lucy and her mother talk about the evils of wanton bird killing:

[Lucy's mother speaks:] "The Bible says a great deal about birds, and the care God takes of them.... "Behold," says Jesus Christ, in his Sermon on the Mount, "the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them." He also says, "Are not five sparrow sold for two farthings" and not one of them is forgotten before God;" meaning, as a writer says, that God takes care of sparrows, the least valuable of birds, so that he guides and directs their fall; they fall only with His permission, and when He chooses; for Jesus Christ says,"One of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father." 

"Well, mother," said Lucy, "I should think the boys who shoot the little birds just for amusement, would think of these words every time they see a wounded bird fall fluttering to the ground." 

"So should I, my dear," said her mother. "I was thinking lately, when I saw some boys going out with their guns, what an act of wickedness it would have seemed to have destroyed one of those ravens who were the commissioned messengers of God, to feed the prophet Elijah…It has always seemed to me to be in some sense a breach of the command, 'Thou shalt not kill,' to take the life of even one animal which is neither injurious to us when living, or useful to us for food when dead."

The Bird-Book freely reprinted material from a variety of sources, taking some of its content (particularly about house sparrows) from an earlier like-minded book, British Birds, published by The Religious Tract Society (London) in 1840, and some from the general and agricultural press, including an article "Spare the birds" originally published in the Portsmouth Journal and reprinted in the New England Farmer (October 26, 1842). Incidentally, that article contains one of the most horrifying stories in the history of bird protection literature--an account of a hunter who swears off hunting after shooting a pet blue jay. I will embed the passage below for you to read, if you dare:

"Love of birds ought to be a part of our religion" (1846)

On October 1845 The Cultivator ran an article by "X." The author knew it would be controversial. It was titled "'Spare the Birds'" (the original in quotes).

"Spare the birds," say a large host of scribes in the different agricultural papers. Though the birds destroy, mutilate, and defile the fruit, yet they also eat the insects which destroy the fruit. Hence we should spare the former on the principle of "setting a thief to catch a thief."

Like Buckingham of the Boston Courier, the author wanted to show the logical absurdity of favoring bird-life over other parts of nature. 

[T]his benevolence should be more expanded. The grubs and wire-worms, though they destroy the crops, also destroy the weeds which choke the crops; therefore "spare the grubs." Canada thistles, though they choke the crop, also choke mulleins, docks and Johnswort, which injure the crop also; therefore, "spare the Canada thistles."

The author's perspective, which he admitted was "heterodox," was thoroughly economic and utilitarian. 

I am in favor of destroying all depredators that are proved to be such. If they happen to be snakes, destroy them; if they are birds, destroy them…We must take care of our own crops and show no partiality to any intruders or thieves, however handsome their dress or fine their music. 

This article was reprinted in both the New England Farmer (Nov 5) and the Boston Courier (Nov 17). 

"X." would have to wait until the following year for a response. On May 20, 1846 The New England Farmer ran an article from "J.T." rebuking "X." for his "malignant, unprovoked attack on the little warblers." J.T. began by stressing that popular opinion was on his side:

He admits that "a large host of scribes, in the different agricultural papers," cry "Spare the birds." And, let me tell him, no scribe will ever gain enviable renown by arraying himself against this formidable host, who have the promptings of humanity, the kindest feelings of our nature, as well as the dictates of reason and justice to support them, in their appeals to our sympathies, in behalf of this interesting portion of the animal creation. And an attempt to obliterate the kind feeling every generous bosom cherishes for the joyous, social, little songsters, will be as futile as the attempt to remove the disgust and hatred naturally implanted in every human breast, for that implacable enemy of our race, the snake.

The public liked birds as much as they hated snakes. And they were right to because birds had been given a higher station in the Creator's design than other animals, particularly the accursed snake.

"X." wants to know if it is "any greater merit to be a bird, than to be a toad, snake, or lizard?" He might ask, with the same propriety, if it is any greater merit to be a man than a monkey. Yes it is. The bird is designed to fill a more meritorious place,--to perform a more meritorious office,--to act a part giving him just title to more merit and distinction in the scale of animal existence. His superior merit is evinced by the sphere he occupies, and by the element he moves in. He is endowed with the faculty of pleasing, and making himself agreeable, which neither snake, toad nor lizard can boast of….Original sin attaches to the snake. But the poor bird is only accountable for a little actual transgression….

This may be the high point of esteem for birds among authors in the agricultural press. Birds were not just useful but uniquely blessed agents placed in the world to help humans to be more pious:

A love for the birds is, or ought to be, part of our religion. Their music not only kindles the poet's fire, but it enlivens devotion in the pious heart. Assimilated with the beautiful and ornamental in creation, indicative of the gratuitous benevolence of the wise Creator, it raises the pious, contemplating, feeling heart from "nature up to nature's God." [Pope's Essay on Man] If their Maker designed them as "gross nuisances," which ought to be "abated," why give them their beautiful plumage, the soul-enlivening voices, their graceful forms and motions? Utility did not demand them. The end of their creation as "nuisance" could as well have been answered without their graces, and then we could "abate" them without doing so great violence to the best and noblest feelings of the generous heart. 

Love of birds could make you a better person.

The mother who instills a sympathetic feeling for the birds into the tender mind of her boy, stamps there a principle which will never detract him from his usefulness, or from the dignity of his character, and if it does not make him a better soldier, a better statesman, or a better citizen, it will give him a better heart, and be likely to make him a better Christian and a better man.

As we have seen and will see further, this natural theological perspective on birds and nature generally was widely shared during this era. 

"X.", for his part, was unconvinced. In an article published in the November 1846 Cultivator, titled "A plea for fruit," he framed the blanket protection of birdlife in the face of fruit destruction as an affront to a properly civilized and patriotic attitude.

There is perhaps nothing in the whole visible creation, that has a stronger tendency to check the wild and roving disposition which characterizes semi-barbarians, than refined horticultural pursuits....["Founding father of landscape architecture" A.J.] Downing says that "fine fruit is the most perfect union of the useful and beautiful that the earth knows."…The man who would discourage the honest and industrious cultivator by turning unrestrained upon him the pilferer….has most essentially the spirit of the vandal, and has forgotten the true promptings of patriotism.

Scripture did not favor birds when it came to the requirements of humans.

[W]hen need requires it, all the rest of the animal creation must bow to the wants of man. But some would alter the original law, so as to read thus, " ' And have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowls of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth,' except such birds as are handsome, and sing prettily--such thou shalt not touch." Every part of the creation was pronounced good; yet every thing equally was to be sacrificed to the wants of man when he needed it…the notion that mere external beauty…is to shield and protect, is too much like the the modern practice of acquitting handsome, rich, or well-dressed scoundrels in courts of law, for crimes committed. 

Beauty alone was not sufficient to save fruit depredators. Indeed, to put too much stock in beauty could lead to miscarriages of justice.  And disrespected the "good" of all Creation.

These remarks…were in part prompted by a leader in the New England Farmer, written by a correspondent who says a "love of birds ought to be a part of our religion," forgetting that a moscheto [mosquito], when microscopically examined, is as perfect and beautiful an animal as a bird, and equally the work of creative wisdom.

[Update]

In its February 1847 issue, the Cultivator ran a note explaining it had received a response from J.T. but had decided not to publish the letter; the public "would not be benefitted from a controversy" on the specific objection he had to the article, but had the editor noticed the objection in question before publication it would have been omitted. What this specific objection was we will never know.

The New England Farmer ceased publication in June 1846, the end of an era in the history of American agricultural publications. 

Ebenezer Meriam feeds Winter Birds in a Brooklyn cemetery (1845)

Ebenezer Meriam was a wealthy, science-minded, devout, philanthropic New Yorker who grew up in Concord (the farm at Meriam's Corner) and published his own newspaper, the New York Municipal Gazette. He was also an early American advocate of systematic winter bird feeding.

On February 12, 1845 Meriam wrote in some detail about his winter feeding project.

The last day of January of the present year...I received a first visit since the commencement of cold weather from the Ground Sparrows, which were my visitors during the whole of the previous winter [this was his third year feeding birds]. The latter part of June, those birds came on a visit of a few days with their young. I was glad to see these feathered acquaintances and am glad to record the remembrance of my kind treatment to those little creatures. 

This was before the large-scale introduction of house sparrows to the US so it is unclear what species he was talking about above: perhaps song sparrows, which sometimes overwinter; or maybe he confused different species. Regardless, he imagined an enduring relationship with the birds that he fed.

This winter the Snow Birds [dark-eyed juncos] have paid me but about a dozen visits....The cold has not been so intense the present season, as to prevent these birds from finding food at their usual places of stopping, but on Friday, a change of weather admonished them of the necessity of resorting to their old quarters. They come full of gratitude and full of cheerfulness.... Sweet creatures, I admire them, and I prize their visits highly. 

His birds were grateful and seemed to remember him, inspiring thoughts about their mental powers.

Instinct and intelligence are both from the hand of nature. Birds are said to possess instinct--they possess intelligence, and many of them discover more knowledge than is possessed by some of the human species. 

On March 27, 1845, Meriam updated his readers about the activities at his feeder and mused about mixed flocks:

On the 11th of March, my winter birds paid me a visit and were accompanied by a stranger bird, resembling in appearance and size the swamp Robin [towhee]. I have noticed that birds practice hospitality with a care that discovers a bright trait in the character of the feathered race. Birds were tenants of earth ere man became an inhabitant of this terrestrial surface. 

By feeding the birds, Meriam was also engaged in this primordial hospitality.

While Meriam was by no means an ornithologist and did not spend much space, relatively speaking, speaking about birds in his newspaper, the fact that he was engaged in the ongoing discussion about bird protection can be seen by the April 9, 1845 issue of the Municipal Gazette. He devoted most of a page to the birds, reprinting articles written by Gerard Halleck  (another "editor friend" of the birds) of the New York Journal of Commerce. One of these letters, originally published in 1842, was a direct point-for-point response to the "Justice" letter in the New England Farmer. [see Winged Wardens post]. Halleck had signed his response, "Mercy."

The following year, (April 2, 1846), Meriam returned to his feeding report:

I have near my window a box in which I feed the little Birds that frequent the grove in this latitude in winter. I have as daily visitors some forty or fifty snow birds and sparrows and occasionally a Virginia Red-bird [northern cardinal, near the limits of its northern range during this period] makes his appearance among them....

But now he had a larger project in mind, a bird sanctuary.

I expressed to a very worthy citizen [Henry E. Pierrepont] of Brooklyn a desire to invite the Birds to take up their residence in the grove in Greenwood Cemetry (sic), where the grounds are enclosed, and where the little innocents would be protected from the cruelties of hard-hearted and unfeeling sportsmen, who wound and torture the poor birds.

Pierrepont was receptive to Meriam's proposal:

Mr. [Joseph A.] Perry [the first comptroller of the cemetery] would be very happy to promote your benevolent intentions in regard to the birds in Greenwood. Will you some time...suggest to him how you wish to attain the object, the keeper on the ground would assist in distributing the seed. If you have selected a lot, it may be made head quarters for these "minstrels of the wood," by placing your alms on it.

Meriam pitched the beneficial effect of a particular bird, which he called the "Adirondack Solitary," on the cemetery soundscape.

This little songster would be an acquisition to the groves of Greenwood Cemetery, its plaintive notes would awaken in the minds of the visitors of the "City of the Dead" a feeling which would bow down human pride and lead the mind to meditate and contemplate, a suitable state of feeling to occupy the spiritual bosom of the material form while meditating among the tombs.

Meriam was apparently the only person who used this name for the bird (ovenbird?), which was a night-time singer.  Regardless of its identity, Meriam was thrilled to report (Brooklyn Evening Star, April 22, 1846) that his imagined scene had come true--he had heard the Adirondack Solitary singing in Greenwood.

By January, 1847, Meriam had his "head quarters" at Greenwood. His (adult) daughter Mary had died. In a long grief-filled essay published in the Brooklyn Evening Star (December 31, 1847) he reported:

It was on a wintry, clouded day, of the present month, I entered Greenwood to be near the sleeping dust of my angel child, and to carry food to the little birds in her place of rest.

It was here, on the morning of the sacred Sabbath, among the tombs and among the groves, that I met a flock of little birds, the sparrows and snow birds, waiting my arrival. They had waited long, but there is success in silent, patient waiting. They were hungry, and I fed them. It was a pleasant duty--a charming, a heart-gladdening service; and a labor well fitted to the holy day and the sacredness of the place in which they had congregated.

Bird-feeding, for Meriam, had become a source of consolation. In the end, Greenwood, following Mt. Auburn Cemetery, would become one of America's great havens for migratory birds.

On editors and robins (updated)

On April 17, 1844, the New England Farmer ran a pro-bird piece from a correspondent cleverly constructed as a mock notice of a "meeting of choristers." "A. Robin" had been elected president; "A. Little Tom-Tit" was secretary. The article listed a series of resolutions, including concert arrangements. For example:

4. Resolved. That the price of admission be and are--an early walk, a kind heart, a listening ear. "For the time of the singing of birds has come."

5. Resolved. That all rude boys (girls we never find rude to us) are requested to leave stones, sticks, clubs, and brick-bats where they find them, and be still, that they be humanized…

It ended with an entreaty to boys "not to shoot at, maim, and murder us, in cold blood, for mere sport, before our young ones are fledged, next fall,"and requested that parents of any "young and thoughtless" son read this resolution to them.

Most interesting for our purposes, however, was resolution 7, which directly addressed the editors of several area periodicals.

7. Resolved. That as the concerts will commence for the season, on or about the 15th of this month, that Messrs. Breck, of the New England Farmer; Buckingham, of the Boston Courier; Buckminster, of the Ploughman, and Earle, of the Spy, being friends of the farmer, and of reputed taste in melody--and above all, being our personal and professional friends, (so we hear and hope)--be respectfully requested to insert our advertisement once in their country papers.

The New England Farmer tagged the article with a single line: "Protect the Birds." Breck, the editor and publisher, was indeed a "friend."

Buckingham of the Boston Courier (May 30, in response to a pro-bird article in the Massachusetts Ploughman), however, was more conditional in his friendship, contesting the idea that robins were beneficial to the orchard. Indeed, he accused the robin of being a false friend.

The robin is truly an exceedingly pleasant companion. His song is the most cheerful of any, always excepting that of that merry chatterer, the bob-o-link; and he gives us a concert every day through half the year. But his concerts are not given gratis. He contrives to get his pay for the whole season in cherry time. He is the most bold and arrant swindler that walks upon two legs. He is a hypocritical, uncivil, unprincipled, unchristian-like thief. He sings among the branches of your cherry tree, and then steals your cherries, or makes a dive at your strawberries.

Making things worse, according to Buckingham, was the fact that robins didn't even provide the benefit of controlling harmful insects: "Robins and caterpillars are, apparently, very civil neighbors to each other."

The New England Farmer reprinted the Courier article on June 12, 1844, under the title, "The birds and their usefulness," with the following introduction:

"Audi Alteram Partem" [let the opposition be heard] 

We were perfectly astounded upon reading the following remarks by the worthy and much respected editor of the Boston Courier….The robin's friends are legion, and we anxiously wait to see what defence they can make. Our prejudices are in favor of the birds--but, "fiat justitia, rual caelum"--let justice be done, &c. 

For the sake of justice (that word again) the New England Farmer would allow an opposing voice space in its paper. 

Buckingham, of course, was wrong: robins do in fact consume caterpillars and canker worms. On June 26, 1844, the New England Farmer called Massachusetts' most prominent entomologist, Thaddeus W. Harris, as its expert witness. 

Allow me to [say] a few words in behalf of robin-redbreast. Observing members of my family have seen this favorite bird pick canker-worms and bud-worms from the leaves of apple-trees, and swallow them. We had a young robin, which we fed, daily, with common apple-tree caterpillars, and the bird ate them greedily and apparently with great relish. We never saw the bud-worms and leaf-rolling caterpillars... thick as they are at this time, on the apple and plum trees; and we are much indebted to birds for their services in destroying them. We intend to set out cherry-trees enough to give the robins a share of the fruit with us. Yours, T. W. H. Cambridge, June 15, 1844. 

The New England Farmer tagged the remarks with a direct address to its editorial opposition:

Our neighbor Buckingham, of the Courier, will see by Dr. H.'s notice of the robin, that there are some who have seen "a robin eat a caterpillar"—and canker-worms, too—and, (if it was not a case of "optical illusion,") we think we have ourself seen the robin making a meal on caterpillars—but we are not sure it was in cherry time.

Breck was willing to concede that robins might favor cherries over insects when cherries were in season. But Harris might well have agreed. His solution, which was apparently followed by a number of horticulturalists at the time, was to grow cherries for the robins to consume.

[UPDATE: July 14, 2016]

On July 10, a correspondent calling himself "Peter Cudgel" weighed in, directing his attack at Buckingham.

The editor of the Courier seems to belong to [that class] who with their fallacious theory, seem to be altogether on the wrong tack, beating against the tide of popular opinion, and a stiff breeze of philanthropic indignation, and must ere long be driven upon the lee shore of practical experience, as they ever who, through prejudice or ignorance, attempt to controvert the operations of nature.

Buckingham was on the wrong side of popular opinion and the wrong side of "nature." Moreover, it made no sense to accuse the robin of immoral behavior.

Unreasonable man! Does he suppose a robin to be capable of theft? I ask every reflecting and candid man, if the taking of cherries, or fruit of any kind, by robins or other birds is theft? If they know the difference between right and wrong, that is is contrary to our wishes to take the fruit which we have grown and perfected by our industry and care, it is theft: otherwise it is not; because there is nothing capable of theft, or any other crime, whose reason is not developed to such a degree as to enable him to distinguish between right and wrong. Whether the robin is capable of such discernment I leave for the editor to consider.

And because nature (and bird behavior) were expressions of God, it was a sign of human depravity to kill a bird for acting in accordance with God's intentions. 

Is it to be presumed that all-wise Providence has given to any of the lower orders of creation, natures and appetites which infringe upon the rights and well-being of man, his masterpiece? No reasonable man can, I think, after mature reflection, arrive at that conclusion. All departments of nature are perfect: every thing has its respective part to act; every thing (which is undepraved by man) has an appetite suited to its wants, (man alone excepted,) and he who kills a bird for indulging in a natural appetite, infringes upon one of nature's --one of God's laws--and of course must suffer the penalty thereof. 

In a relatively lengthy appended comment, Breck supported the sentiment but scolded the correspondent for his incivility. 

We cannot object to what our correspondent says in defence of the birds; but we have thought it best to omit a few of his expressions in allusion to the editor of the Courier…We like to see spirit manifested by writers, but we would have courtesy coupled with it…Our advice to writers for the agricultural press is, be as spirited as you like, but never suffer your pen to trace an uncourteous epithet:--leave that weapon to the rabid participants in the muddy warfare of politics, who gloat upon detraction as vultures upon carrion.

The agricultural press as a whole could not afford to let its credibility suffer by engaging in the kinds of partisanship seen in the party papers of the day. 

Buckingham (whose Courier was aligned with the Whigs) had no such hesitation. In a July 24 letter, printed on the front page of the New England Farmer, he urged the paper not to "expunge epithets in the future." And he laid into Cudgel and his argument.

I perceive by a communication in your paper of the 10th inst,. that I have given offence to one of your correspondents…I assure you, sir, that when I wrote the article which elicited from Mr Cudgel that outpouring of indignation, I had no intention of provoking the anger, or in the slightest degree ruffling the temper, or the most sensitive philanthropist; and I do not perceive that even Mr. Cudgel, with all his philanthropic sagacity and inexorable resolution to write me down "a mean, unprincipled, unchristianlike rascal," has produced any evidence that I was guilty of stating anything untrue. 

Indeed, he was just skeptically calling into question "the accuracy of a certain popular impression," not advocating the destruction of birds.  Despite Harris's testimony, Buckingham still believed that robins avoided eating caterpillars. Moreover, it was Cudgel whose logic was unsound. If "all departments of nature are perfect" then it followed that

no reasonable man can wish the destruction of caterpillars and canker-worms, and grasshoppers, and other worms and insects injurious to vegetation; for these all do nothing more than "satisfy the cravings of a natural appetite." Did not the God who created the robin create also the caterpillar and canker-worm?

On August 21, perhaps sensing that that partisan advocates such as Cudgel were in fact undermining the case in favor of the birds, Breck ran a note explaining to a correspondent why the New England Farmer would not be printing his response to Buckingham's July 24 letter. It wasn't the tone but the argument that was flawed.

The communication from an Andover correspondent, upon the subject of birds, is entirely unobjectionable in its tone; but like the coffee we sometimes find in travelling, it is too weak to be good....If the writer wished to blow up the Editor of the Courier…he should have provided himself with a heavier piece of ordnance. …When he asserts with his friend "Cudgel" …that "[the birds] have a claim from a high source, to food and drink wherever they can find it," does he not assert an equal claim for the caterpillar and cankerworm to food &c. wherever they can find it?....we think the publication of his article would do him little credit, either as a controversialist or a logician, and we have therefore with parliamentary courtesy, "laid it on the table."

It was better that the robin's eating habits be doubted (for this could be confirmed or disconfirmed scientifically) than a confused argument from natural theology be advanced.