Her father made their homes very small, so that the English sparrows could not get in and crowd them out.
A boy said that he had gotten a pot of paint, and painted in large letters on the fences around his father's farm: "Spare the toads, don't kill the birds.

Every bird killed is a loss to the country." "That reminds me," said the president, "to ask the girls what they have done about the millinery business." "I have told my mother," said a tall, serious-faced girl, "that I think it is wrong to wear bird feathers, and she has promised to give up wearing any of them except ostrich plumes." Mrs.Wood asked permission to say a few words just here, and the president said: "Certainly, we are always glad to hear from you." She went up on the platform, and faced the roomful of children.

"Dear boys and girls," she began, "I have had some papers sent me from Boston, giving some facts about the killing of our birds, and I want to state a few of them to you: You all know that nearly every tree and plant that grows swarms with insect life, and that they couldn't grow if the birds didn't eat the insects that would devour their foliage.

All day long, the little beaks of the birds are busy.

The dear little rose-breasted gross-beak carefully examines the potato plants, and picks off the beetles, the martins destroy weevil, the quail and grouse family eats the chinch-bug, the woodpeckers dig the worms from the trees, and many other birds eat the flies and gnats and mosquitoes that torment us so.
No flying or crawling creature escapes their sharp little eyes.