When the New York Zoological Society began work on its Park in 1899, the northern half of the Borough of the Bronx was a regular daily hunting-ground for the slaughter of song-birds, and all other birds that could be found. Every Sunday it was "bangetty!" "bang!" from Pelham Bay to Van Cortlandt. The police force paid not the slightest attention to these open, flagrant, shameless violations of the city ordinances and the state bird laws. In those days I never but once heard of a policeman _on his own initiative_ arresting a birdshooter, even on Sunday; but whenever meddlesome special wardens from the Zoological Park have pointedly called upon the local police force for help, it has always been given with cheerful alacrity. In the fall of 1912 an appeal to the Police Commissioner resulted in a general order to stop all hunting and shooting in the Borough of the Bronx, and a reform is now on. The war on the bird-killers in New York City began in 1900. It seemed that if the Zoological Society did not take up the matter, the slaughter would continue indefinitely. The white man's burden was taken up; and the story of the war is rather illuminating. Mr. G.O. Shields, President of the League of American Sportsmen, quickly became interested in the matter, and entered actively into the campaign. For months unnumbered, he spent every Sunday patroling the woods and thickets of northern New York and Westchester county, usually accompanied by John J. Rose and Rudolph Bell of the Zoological Park force, for whom appointments as deputy game wardens had been secured from the State. The adventures of that redoubtable trio of man-hunters would make an interesting chapter. They were shot at by poachers, but more frequently they shot at the other fellows. Just why it was that no one was killed, no one seems to know. Many Italians and several Americans were arrested while hunting, haled to court, prosecuted and fined. Finally, a reign of terror set in; and that was the beginning of the end. It became known that those three men could not be stopped by threats, and that they always got their man--unless he got into a human rabbit-warren of the Italian boarding-house species. That was the only escape that was possible. The largest haul of dead birds was 43 robins, orioles, thrushes and woodpeckers, captured along with the five Italians who committed the indiscretion of sitting down in the woods to divide their dead birds. We saved all the birds in alcohol, and showed them in court. The judge fined two of the Italians $50 each, and the other three were sent to the penitentiary for two months each. Even yet, however, at long intervals an occasional son of sunny Italy tries his luck at Sunday bird shooting; but if anyone yells at him to "Halt!" he throws away his gun and stampedes through the brush like a frightened deer. The birds of upper New York are now fairly secure; but it has taken ten years of fighting to bring it about.