Audubon, in writing of the wild turkey, so abundant in his day, observes substantially that the old males in their marches often destroy the young by picking the head, but do not venture to disturb the full-grown and vigorous. The feeble and immature being an encumbrance, it is obvious that the watchfulness and attention which they would require, were sympathy and affection the emotions by which the males are actuated, would necessarily retard progress, and lead to the destruction of the entire flock. Instinct or reason here operates for individual and family good. Granting that instinct or reason does sometimes act for individual and family preservation in the manner described, I am not willing to admit that in every case that may arise in which the weak and disabled are sacrificed, that it is done for the material benefit of the physically able and robust. How the destruction of the weak and nearly-developed ant can result in good to the colony, in view of the fact that not the slightest effort to escape the danger by flight is undertaken, the sole object being the hiding of the young, it is most difficult to conceive. There seems to be one of two theories, in the writer’s judgment, that will, in anything like a satisfactory manner, account for this strange, abnormal habit upon the part of an insect that has been proverbially distinguished for its kind and affectionate disposition towards the tender beings committed to its trust; either to attribute it to an unwillingness and dislike to see its offspring made the servants of a hostile race or the subjects of ill-treatment and abuse, or to the survival of a habit of the past when its ancestors were a migratory, or nomadic, species. That a feeling of repugnance does sometimes take possession of animal nature when the objects of parental care and solicitude are, or are about to be, reduced to slavery or confinement, and impels to actions of cruelty, will be patent from what follows:-- A friend, several summers ago, having procured a pair of young robins, placed them in a cage, which he hung from a tree-branch close to his dwelling, where the parent-birds could have an opportunity to feed them. All went well for a few days, when the parents, who had busied themselves in the intervals of feeding in attempts to secure their release, finding their efforts unavailing, flew away, but only to return with something green in their bills, most probably poisonous caterpillars, which they fed to their offspring. A few minutes later and they lay in the bottom of the cage dead, but the parents, as if conscious of what would result, flew away, and never came back.