In the mid-seventies I was director of the Institute of Design in Chicago. I started in fall, when swarms of migrating birds would negotiate the city with buildings mostly constructed with glass-curtain walls. Around Crown Hall, the design and architecture studios, every morning one could find hundreds of bird carcasses. Students, staff and teachers, would rush into the building, trying to avoid stepping on them. It seemed as if none were concerned that something had been destroyed by human intervention: architecture. After one of my Albert Schweitzer lectures about human dignity, reverence for and the value and meaning of life, I handed out to each of the students in my classes rubber gloves and plastic bags and we systematically removed the remains of all birds. What was interesting, that from this day on, there were never any dead birds littering the walkways. Students understood that not caring for something that at one time was fully living, with beauty and energy, that ignoring these qualities after their death, reflected a lack of dignity and compassion in themselves.