The Round River 
goes by the board, not all the playground associations in Christendom 
can do aught to replace the loss. 
One of the anomalies of conservation is that our social asset is 
being d troyed by the very instinct, for the exercise of which we seek  
      (. 
to preservei. I have often wondered why many Americans, decent at home,-\,

are such barb   ans afield. The paper plates blowing in the wind at picnic

sites and the bee  cans along the road attest to this. /In old days the 
gentle art of poachi   was one of the standard accomplishments of a self-

respecting yeoman. If th King still owned all the game, I think I should

make a very good poacher mys f. I often feel the promptings of the breed.

But the King no longer owns the      and the countryside. It belongs to 
my friends and neighbors. The gen     art of poaching, therefore, has 
assumed a new complexion. The poacher s no longer a hero. It is the 
duty of the forward-looking citizen to s   d the day when respect for the

countryside is a matter of public principlej 
If wild birds and animals are a social asset, how much of an asset are 
they? It is easy to say that some of us, afflicted with hereditary hunting

fever, cannot live satisfactory lives without them. But this does not 
establish any comparative value, and in these days it is sometimes necessary

to choose between necessities. In short, what is a wild goose worth? 
S             I would forqgo             x          for the sight of the
big gander 
that sailed honking into my decoys at daybreak this morning. It was 
bitter cold and I was all thumbs, so I blithely missed him. But miss or no

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