Because these feathers are so lovely, rich women want to wear them in their hats; and these rich women are willing to pay a great deal of money for the egret feathers. So, for the sake of the money, hunters go wherever these lovely birds are to be found, and catch and kill them, and get the feathers. In fact, they have killed off so many of these lovely birds, to get feathers for rich women's hats, that to-day there are hardly any snowy egrets left in the United States. Worse than that, the hunters killed the Papa and Mamma egrets just when their babies were born, because at that time the feathers of the snowy egrets were the softest and loveliest. And so, for each Papa and Mamma egret which the cruel hunters killed, they left a dozen _baby birds in their nests to starve and die_. Think of that! Now, my dear children, I want the little girls among you to remember this, especially the little girls who are lucky enough to have rich Papas and Mammas. You can grow up to be beautiful, and look beautiful, without wearing these egret feathers. There are women who try to look beautiful, but who do not think of the pain they give to God's innocent creatures. So, if ever you want to wear egret feathers, think of the dozen baby egrets who must starve and die if you are to have them. [Illustration: Snowy Egrets Photograph of a group in the American Museum of Natural History, New York] CHAPTER XVI The Caged Parrot I shall finish this book by telling you a story--a true story, which, I hope, will make you think. Many years ago a sea captain returned to his home in the north of Scotland, after sailing the sea for a long time. He brought with him a parrot. The parrot had lived in South America, where the people speak the Spanish language. So all the words the parrot knew were in Spanish. The captain knew Spanish quite well, and often talked to the parrot in that language. But after a time the captain died, and there was nobody in that part of Scotland who could talk to the parrot. The parrot grew silent, and never opened his mouth to say a word. But he was thinking of his friend who was dead, and whose words in Spanish had reminded him of his sunny home. The people around him did not know that, and thought nothing of his silence. So the parrot in his cold and bleak cage pined and pined for his sunny home land, but never a word did he say. Forty years passed, and a new set of people came to live there. They took no notice of the silent old parrot. They put food and drink in the cage, but knew nothing about him except that he had been in the cage for many years. For a parrot lives much longer than a man--sometimes one hundred years. One day a sailor came to the house. He had lived in South America, and knew Spanish. He saw the parrot sitting in his cage, all alone and silent, with his head bent down, and his beak on his breast. Then the sailor spoke to the parrot in Spanish.