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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4d43b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55805 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55805) diff --git a/old/55805-0.txt b/old/55805-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 85a2190..0000000 --- a/old/55805-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4516 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Travels in a Tree-top, by Charles Conrad Abbott - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Travels in a Tree-top - -Author: Charles Conrad Abbott - -Release Date: October 24, 2017 [EBook #55805] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAVELS IN A TREE-TOP *** - - - - -Produced by KD Weeks, ellinora and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note: - -This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. -Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. - -The several full-page illustrations have been repositioned slightly to -avoid falling in mid-paragraph. The captions appeared on a separate -page. These illustrations were not included in the pagination. Multiple -unnumbered blank pages associated with them have been removed. - -Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please -see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - --------------------------------------------------------- - - BY CHARLES CONRAD ABBOTT - - --------------------------------------------------------- - - THE FREEDOM OF THE FIELDS. With Frontispiece by Alice - Barber Stephens, and three photogravures. Buckram, - ornamental, $1.50 - - TRAVELS IN A TREE-TOP. With Frontispiece by Alice - Barber Stephens, and three photogravures. Buckram, - ornamental, $1.50 - - _Abbott’s Fireside and Forest Library_ - - THE FREEDOM OF THE FIELDS AND TRAVELS IN A TREE-TOP. - Two volumes in a box. 12mo. Buckram, ornamental, - $3.00 - - RECENT RAMBLES; Or, In Touch with Nature. Illustrated. - 12mo. Cloth, $2.00 - - THE HERMIT OF NOTTINGHAM. A novel. 12mo. Cloth, - ornamental, $1.25 - - WHEN THE CENTURY WAS NEW. A novel. 12mo. Cloth, $1.00 - - A COLONIAL WOOING. A novel. 12mo. Cloth, $1.00 - - BIRD-LAND ECHOES. Profusely illustrated by William - Everett Cram. Crown 8vo. Cloth, gilt top, $2.00 - - THE BIRDS ABOUT US. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $2.00 - - _Abbott’s Bird Library._ - - THE BIRDS ABOUT US and BIRD-LAND ECHOES. Two volumes - in a box. 12mo. Cloth, gilt top, $4.00 - - - - - _TRAVELS IN - A TREE-TOP_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -[Illustration: - - _An Old-fashioned Garden_ - By Alice Barber Stephens -] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - TRAVELS IN - ⧫ ⧫ A ⧫ ⧫ - TREE-TOP BY - CHARLES C. ABBOTT - -[Illustration] - - J. B. LIPPINCOTT CO. - PHILADELPHIA 1898 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1894 AND 1897, - BY - J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. - - - - - CONTENTS - - _Page_ - _Travels in a Tree-top_ 9 - _A Hunt for the Pyxie_ 61 - _The Coming of the Birds_ 71 - _The Building of the Nest_ 83 - _Corn-stalk Fiddles_ 97 - _The Old Kitchen Door_ 103 - _Up the Creek_ 109 - _A Winter-Night’s Outing_ 119 - _Wild Life in Water_ 125 - _An Old-fashioned Garden_ 133 - _An Indian Trail_ 147 - _A Pre-Columbian Dinner_ 155 - _A Day’s Digging_ 167 - _Drifting_ 173 - _Footprints_ 187 - _Bees and Buckwheat_ 195 - _Dead Leaves_ 203 - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - _Page_ - _An Old-fashioned Garden_ Frontispiece - By Alice Barber Stephens - - _The Chesapeake Oak_ 22 - - _The Old Drawbridge, Crosswick’s 116 - Creek_ - - _The Camp-Fire_ 187 - -[Illustration] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER FIRST - - _TRAVELS IN A TREE-TOP_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -A pearly mist shut out the river, the meadows, and every field for -miles. I could not detect the ripple of the outgoing tide, and the -heartiest songster sent no cheerful cry above the wide-spreading and -low-lying cloud; but above all this silent, desolate, and seemingly -deserted outlook there was a wealth of sunshine and a canopy of -deep-blue sky. Here and there, as islands in a boundless sea, were the -leafy tops of a few tall trees, and these, I fancied, were tempting -regions to explore. Travels in a tree-top—surely, here we have a bit of -novelty in this worn-out world. - -Unless wholly wedded to the town, it is not cheering to think of the -surrounding country as worn out. It is but little more than two -centuries since the home-seeking folk of other lands came here to trick -or trade with the Indians, wild as the untamed world wherein they dwelt; -and now we look almost in vain for country as Nature fashioned it. Man -may make of a desert a pleasant place, but he also unmakes the forest -and bares the wooded hills until as naked and desolate as the fire-swept -ruins of his own construction. It is but a matter of a few thousand -cart-loads of the hill moved to one side, and the swamp that the farmer -dreads because it yields no dollars is obliterated. He has never -considered its wealth of suggestiveness. “A fig for the flowers and -vermin. I must plant more corn.” - -But here and there the tall trees are still standing, and their tops are -an untravelled country. I climbed an oak this cool midsummer morning; -clambered beyond the mists, which were rolling away as I seated myself -far above the ground, safe from intrusion, and resting trustfully on -yielding branches that moved so gently in the passing breeze that I -scarcely perceived their motion. - -How much depends upon our point of view! The woodland path may not be -charming if the undergrowth too closely shuts us in. In all we do, we -seek a wider vision than our arm’s length. There may be nothing better -beyond than at our feet, but we never believe it. It is as natural to -ask of the distant as of the future. They are closely akin. Here in the -tree-top my wants were supplied. I was only in the least important sense -cribbed, cabined, and confined. - -Wild life, as we call it, is very discriminating, and that part of it -which notices him at all looks upon man as a land animal; one that -gropes about the ground, and awkwardly at that, often stumbling and ever -making more noise than his progress calls for; but when perched in a -tree, as an arboreal creature, he is to be studied anew. So, at least, -thought the crows that very soon discovered my lofty quarters. How they -chattered and scolded! They dashed near, as if with their ebon wings to -cast a spell upon me, and, craning their glossy necks, spoke words of -warning. My indifference was exasperating at first, and then, as I did -not move, they concluded I was asleep, dead, or a dummy, like those in -the corn-fields. The loud expostulations gave place to subdued -chatterings, and they were about to leave without further investigation, -when, by the pressure of my foot, I snapped a dead twig. I will not -attempt description. Perhaps to this day the circumstance is discussed -in corvine circles. - -It is difficult to realize the freedom of flight. Twisting and turning -with perfect ease, adapting their bodies to every change of the fitful -wind, these crows did not use their wings with that incessant motion -that we need in using our limbs to walk, but floated, rose and fell, as -if shadows rather than ponderable bodies. Until we can fly, or, rather, -ride in flying-machines, we cannot hope to know much of this flight-life -of birds, and it is the better part of their lives. But it was something -to-day to be with even these crows in the air. Following their erratic -flight from such a point of view, I seemed to be flying. We are given at -times to wonder a great deal about birds, and they have equal reason to -constantly consider us. Who can say what these crows thought of me? All -I can offer to him who would solve the problem is that their curiosity -was unbounded, and this is much if their curiosity and ours are akin. Of -course they talked. Garner need not have gone to Africa to prove that -monkeys talk, and no one can question that crows utter more than mere -alarm-cries. - -A word more concerning crows. What so absurd, apparently, as this? - - “A single crow betokens sorrow, - Two betoken mirth, - Three predict a funeral, - And four a birth.” - -Yet it is a very common saying, being repeated whenever a few, or less -than five, fly over. It is repeated mechanically, of course, and then -forgotten, for no one seems to worry over one or three crows as they do -when a looking-glass breaks or the dropped fork sticks up in the floor. -Seems to worry, and yet I strongly suspect a trace of superstition -lingers in the mind of many a woman. Those who will not sit as one of -thirteen at a table are not dead yet. Can it be that all this weakness -is only more concealed than formerly, but none the less existent? - -I watched the departing crows until they were but mere specks in the -sky, and heard, or fancied I heard, their cawing when half a mile away. -It is ever a sweet sound to me. It means so much, recalls a long round -of jolly years; and what matters the quality of a sound if a merry heart -prompts its utterance? - -I was not the only occupant of the tree; there were hundreds of other -and more active travellers, who often stopped to think or converse with -their fellows and then hurried on. I refer to the great, shining, black -ants that have such a variety of meaningless nicknames. Its English -cousin is asserted to be ill-tempered, if not venomous, and both Chaucer -and Shakespeare refer to them as often mad and always treacherous. I saw -nothing of this to-day. They were ever on the go and always in a hurry. -They seemed not to dissociate me from the tree; perhaps thought me an -odd excrescence and of no importance. No one thinks of himself as such, -and I forced myself upon the attention of some of the hurrying throng. -It was easy to intercept them, and they grew quickly frantic; but their -fellows paid no attention to such as I held captive for the moment. I -had a small paper box with me, and this I stuck full of pin-holes on -every side and then put half a dozen of the ants in it. Holding it in -the line of the insects’ march, it immediately became a source of -wonderment, and every ant that came by stopped and parleyed with the -prisoners. A few returned earthward, and then a number came together, -but beyond this I could see nothing in the way of concerted action on -the part of the ants at large looking towards succoring their captive -fellows. Releasing them, these detained ants at once scattered in all -directions, and the incident was quickly forgotten. Where were these -ants going, and what was their purpose? I wondered. I was as near the -tree’s top as I dared to go, but the ants went on, apparently to the -very tips of the tiniest twigs, and not one that I saw came down laden -or passed up with any burden. It is not to be supposed they had no -purpose in so doing, but what? There is scarcely an hour when we are not -called upon to witness just such aimless activity,—that is, aimless so -far as we can determine. - -Nothing molested these huge black ants, although insect-eating birds -came and went continually. One lordly, great-crested fly-catcher eyed -them meditatively for some seconds, and then my identity suddenly dawned -upon him. His harsh voice, affected by fear, was more out of tune than -ever, and, coupled with his precipitant flight, was very amusing. The -bird fell off the tree, but quickly caught himself, and then, as usual, -curiosity overcame fear. Students of bird-ways should never forget this. -The fly-catcher soon took a stand wherefrom to observe me, and, if -intently staring at me for thirty seconds was not curiosity, what shall -we call it? Is it fair to explain away everything by calling it mere -coincidence? It is a common practice, and about as logical as the old -cry of “instinct” when I went to school. To have said, when I was a boy, -that a bird could think and could communicate ideas to another of its -kind, would have brought down ridicule upon my head out of school, and -brought down something more weighty if the idea had been expressed in a -“composition.” I speak from experience. - -To return to the cheerier subject of curiosity in birds: our large hawks -have it to a marked degree, and advantage can be taken of this fact if -you wish to trap them. I have found this particularly true in winter, -when there is a general covering of the ground with snow. Food, of -course, is not then quite so plenty, but this does not explain the -matter. An empty steel trap on the top of a hay-stack is quite as likely -to be tampered with as when baited with a mouse. The hawk will walk all -around it, and then put out one foot and touch it here and there. If we -can judge from the bird’s actions, the question, What is it, anyway? is -running through its mind. I once played a trick upon a splendid black -hawk that had been mousing over the fields for half the winter. It often -perched upon a stack of straw instead of the lone hickory near by. Early -one morning I placed a plump meadow-mouse on the very top of the stack, -to which I had attached a dozen long strands of bright-red woollen yarn -and a bladder that I had inflated. This was secured to the mouse by a -silk cord, and all were so concealed by the snow and straw that the hawk -noticed the mouse only. The bird was suspicious at first: it was too -unusual for a mouse not to move when a hawk hovered above it. Then the -bird alighted on the stack and walked about the mouse, pecking at it -once, but not touching it. Then putting out one foot, he seized it with -a firm grip, the talons passing through the carcass, and at the same -time spread his wings and moved slowly towards the lone hickory that -towered near by. I was near enough to see every movement. It was evident -that the hawk did not look down at first, and saw nothing of the -streaming threads and bobbing bladder; but it did a moment later, and -then what a quickening of wings and hasty mounting upward! The hawk was -frightened, and gave a violent jerk with one foot, as if to disengage -the mouse, but it was ineffectual. The sharp claws had too strong a -hold, and the effect was only to more violently bob the bladder. Then -the hawk screamed and dashed into the trees near by, and was out of -sight. - -A curious and disappointing occurrence, while sitting aloft, was the -frequent discovery of my presence by birds and their sudden right-about -movement and departure. Occasionally I could see them coming as if -directly towards me, but their keen eyes noticed the unusual object, and -they would dart off with a promptness that showed how completely at home -they were while on the wing. Even the bluebirds, usually so tame, had -their misgivings, and came to rest in other trees. But if the birds were -not always about and above me, there were many below, and the sweet song -of the wood-robin from the tangled underbrush seemed clearer and purer -than when sifted through a wilderness of leaves. - -It was not until noon that the wood and open fields became silent or -nearly so, for the red-eye came continually, and, whether insect-hunting -in the tree or on the wing, it seemed never to cease its singing, or -querulous cry, which more aptly describes its utterance. To hear this -sound throughout a long summer day is depressing, particularly if you -hear nothing else, for the steady hum of insect-life hardly passes for -sound. It was only when I listened for it that I was aware that millions -of tiny creatures were filling the air with a humming that varied only -as the light breeze carried it away or brought it nearer and clearer -than before. There is a vast difference between absolute and comparative -or apparent silence. The former is scarcely ever a condition of the open -country unless during a still, cold winter night, and never of one of -our ordinary woodland tracts. We do find it, however, in the cedar -swamps and pine-land, even during summer. I have often stood in “the -pines” of Southern New Jersey and tried to detect some sound other than -that of my own breathing, but in vain. Not a twig stirred. The dark -waters of the pools were motionless; even the scattered clouds above -were at rest. It was to be absolutely alone, as if the only living -creature upon earth. But ere long a gentle breeze would spring up, there -was a light and airy trembling of the pines, and the monotone of a -whispered sigh filled the forest. Even this was a relief, and what a joy -if some lonely bird passed by and even lisped of its presence! The -_dee-dee_ of a titmouse at such a time was sweeter music than the choral -service that heralds the coming of a bright June morning. - -At noon, the day being torrid, there was comparative silence, and yet as -I looked about me I saw ceaseless activity in a small way. The ants were -still journeying, and red admiral and yellow swallow-tailed butterflies -came near, and the latter even passed high overhead and mingled with the -chimney-swifts. Had I been on the ground, walking instead of waiting, I -should have sought some sheltered spot and rested, taking a hint from -much of the wild life I was watching. - - AT NOONTIDE. - - Where cluster oaks and runs the rapid brook, - Repose the jutting rocks beneath the ferns; - Here seeks the thrush his hidden leafy nook, - And wandering squirrel to his hole returns. - - Afar the steaming river slowly wends - Its tortuous way to mingle with the sea; - No cheerful voice its languid course attends; - The blight of silence rests upon the lea. - - Where the wide meadow spreads its wealth of weeds, - Where the rank harvest waves above the field, - The testy hornet in his anger speeds, - And stolid beetle bears his brazen shield. - - Give them the glowing, fiery world they love, - Give me the cool retreat beside the stream; - While sweeps the sun the noontide sky above, - Here would I linger with the birds and dream. - -[Illustration: _The Chesapeake Oak_] - -And now what of the tree itself? Here I have been the better part of a -long fore-noon, and scarcely given this fine young oak a thought. A -young oak, yet a good deal older than its burden; an oak that was an -acorn when the century was new, and now a sturdy growth full sixty feet -high, straight of stem to its undermost branches and shapely everywhere. -Such trees are not remarkable of themselves, though things of beauty, -but at times how suggestive! Think of pre-Columbian America; then there -were oaks to make men marvel. “There were giants in those days.” -Occasionally we meet with them even now. A year ago I camped on the -shore of Chesapeake Bay near an oak that measured eighteen feet six -inches in circumference four feet from the ground, and in St. Paul’s -church-yard, not a great way off, are five big oaks, one of which is -twenty feet around shoulder high from the roots. Such trees are very -old. The church-yard was enclosed two centuries ago, and these were big -trees then, and so older by far than any monument of white men on the -continent, except possible traces of the Norsemen. If a tree such as -this in which I have been sitting is full to overflowing with -suggestiveness, how much more so a noble patriarch like that upon the -bay shore! It is usually not easy to realize the dimensions of a huge -tree by merely looking at it, but this mammoth impressed one at first -sight. The branches were themselves great trees, and together cast a -circular patch of shade, at noon, three paces more than one hundred feet -across. As a tree in which to ramble none could have been better shaped. -The lowest branches were less than twenty feet from the ground, and -after reaching horizontally a long way, curved upward and again outward, -dividing finally into the leaf-bearing twigs. Course after course -continued in this way, the size decreasing gradually, and the whole -forming, as seen from a distance, a magnificent dome-shaped mass. -Comparisons with the tree’s surroundings were full of suggestiveness. -The ground immediately about was densely covered with rank ferns and the -acorn sprouts of one or two years’ growth. Yet, where they were, it -seemed but a smoothly-shaven lawn, so insignificant were they when seen -with the tree; and the sproutland beyond, which would otherwise have -been a wood, was absolutely insignificant. Yet, in truth, everything -here was on a grand scale. The ferns were tall, and to prove it I sat -upon the ground among them and so shut out all view of the great tree -and its surroundings. I spent many hours seated upon different branches -of this oak, and every one had features all its own. From those nearest -the ground I surveyed the bird-life in the thicket beneath, and was -entertained by a pair of nesting cardinal red-birds that came and went -as freely as if quite alone, and whistled cheerfully morning, noon, and -night. I fancied I made friends with these birds, for early one morning -the male bird came to camp, as if to inspect my nest, thinking I was not -up, and he expressed his favorable opinion in most glowing terms. A pair -of doves, too, had a nest in sight, and their melancholy cooing seemed -out of tune here, where Nature had done her work so well. Once, at -least, while I was there, the bald eagle came for a few moments, and, -big bird as he is, was not conspicuous, and had not a flash of sunlight -fallen upon his yellow beak and white head, I should not have been aware -of his presence, as he certainly was not of mine. What I took to be a -duck-hawk, a few days later, interested me much more. He was a splendid -bird, and tarried but a short time. The leaves so concealed him that I -was not sure, having no field-glass at the time, but do not think I was -mistaken. The eagle did not appear to disturb the fish-hawk’s temper in -the least, but the great hawk did, and he was much excited until the -bird disappeared in the steam and smoke that as a great cloud rested -above Baltimore. - -The birds of this retired spot may be divided into two classes,—those of -the oak and of the sproutland growths about it, and the birds of the -air, principally swallows, which hung over the tree as a trembling -cloud. Never were swallows more numerous, except when flocked prior to -migration. In the tree and bushes were always many birds, yet often they -were far from each other. This gave me an excellent idea of what a great -oak really is. Birds quite out of sight and hearing of each other were -resting on branches from the same trunk. Although the middle of July, -there was no lack of song, and second nesting of many familiar birds is, -I judge, more common in Maryland than in New Jersey. Of all the birds -that came, the little green herons were the most amusing. A pair -doubtless had a nest near by, or young that were not yet on the wing. -They walked sedately along the level branches, as a man might pace up -and down his study, buried in deep thought. I listened carefully for -some expression of content, but they made no sound except when they were -startled and flew off. I was much surprised to find the beach-birds -occasionally darting among the branches, and once a spotted sandpiper -rested a moment near me. These birds we associate with water and the -open country, although this species is less aquatic than its fellows. -They were always in sight from the door of my tent, and always an -earlier bird than I. I recall now standing upon the beach long before -sunrise, marking the promises of the coming day, as I interpreted them. -The fish-hawks were ahead of me; so, too, the little sand-pipers. Their -piping at this time was very clear and musical. It was a delightful -accompaniment to the rippling water. The dear old song-sparrows were -quiet, and I was very glad; but with the first flooding of the sea with -sunlight they all sang out, and the Chesapeake was afar off and I in the -home meadows on the Delaware. I prefer novelty when away. It is well to -utterly forget, at times, that which we most prize. What boots it to -stand on the hill-top, if your thoughts are forever in the lowlands? -Twice, from the branches of the old oak, I saw a splendid sunset, but -nothing equal to the sunrise of to-day. With many a matter of this life -the beginning is better than the end. We had a superb sunset last night. -The color was gorgeous, but it was plain and commonplace compared to the -sunrise of to-day. Perhaps no tint was really brighter in one case than -in the other, but my mind was. The sunset was too closely linked with -the death of the day; there was the idea of a grand finale before the -curtain drops, and this tends to dull enthusiasm. It is not so with -sunrise. It is all freshness,—a matter of birth, of beginning, of a new -trial of life,—and with so happy an entrance, the exit should be one of -gladness only; but there is no trace of pity in Nature. In awful -certainty the night cometh. - -I was not surprised at every visit to this tree to find some new form of -life resting on its branches. A beautiful garter-snake had reached a low -branch by climbing to it from a sapling that reached a little above it. -There was no break in the highway that led to its very summit. The grass -leaned upon ferns, these upon shrubs, these again upon saplings, and so -the tree was reached. Any creeping thing could have climbed just eighty -feet above the earth with far less danger than men encounter clambering -over hills. - -And not only a zoological garden was this and is every other old tree, -but the oak had its botanic garden as well. When we consider that many -of the branches were so wide and level that one could walk upon them, it -is not strange that earth, dead leaves, and water should lodge in many -places. Indeed, besides the two gardens I have mentioned, the oak had -also an aquarium. But I cannot go into particulars. The parasitic -plant-life—not truly such, like the mistletoe—was a striking feature. -Maple seeds had lodged and sprouted, and in a saucer-shaped depression -where dust and water had lodged a starved hawkweed had got so far -towards maturity as to be in bud. - - * * * * * - -It may appear as utter foolishness to others, but I believe that trees -might in time become tiresome. Whether in leaf or bare of foliage, there -is a fixedness that palls at last. We are given to looking from the tree -to the world beyond; to hurrying from beneath their branches to the open -country. To live in a dense forest is akin to living in a great city. -There is a sense of confinement against which, sooner or later, we are -sure to rebel. We long for change. The man who is perfectly satisfied -has no knowledge of what satisfaction really is. Logical or not, I -turned my attention from the tree at last, and thought, What of the -outlook? Directly north, in the shallow basin, hemmed in by low hills, -lies the town. A cloud of smoke and steam rests over it, and barely -above it reach the church-spires and tall factory chimneys, as if the -place was struggling to be free, but only had its finger-tips out of the -mire of the town, of which I know but little. My wonder is that so many -people stay there, and, stranger still, wild life not only crowds its -outskirts, but ventures into its very midst. In one town, not far away, -I found the nests of seventeen species of birds, but then there was a -large old cemetery and a millpond within its boundaries. Time was when -through the town before me there flowed a creek, and a pretty wood -flourished along its south bank. The creek is now a sewer, and an open -one at that, and yet the musk-rat cannot quite make up his mind to leave -it. Stranger than this was seeing recently, in a small creek discolored -by a dyeing establishment, a little brown diver. How it could bring -itself to swim in such filth must remain a mystery. A queer old -character that had lived all his life in the country once said of the -nearest town, “It is a good place to dump what we don’t want on the -farm.” This old fellow would always drive me out of his orchard when -apples were ripe, but I liked him for the sentiment I have quoted. - -I am out of town now, and what of the world in another direction? -Turning to the east, I have farm after farm before me; all different, -yet with a strong family likeness. This region was taken up by English -Quakers about 1670 and a little later, and the houses they built were as -much alike as are these people in their apparel. The second set of -buildings were larger only and no less severely plain; but immediately -preceding the Revolution there were some very substantial mansions -erected. From my perch in the tree-top I cannot see any of the houses -distinctly, but locate them all by the group of Weymouth pines in front -and sometimes both before and behind them. The old-time Lombardy poplar -was the tree of the door-yards at first, but these, in this -neighborhood, have well-nigh all died out, and the pines replace them. -One farm-house is vividly pictured before me, although quite out of -sight. The owner made it a home for such birds as might choose to come, -as well as for himself, and what royal days have been spent there! There -was no one feature to attract instant attention as you approached the -house. The trees were thrifty, the shrubbery healthy, the roses -vigorous, and the flowering plants judiciously selected; but what did -strike the visitor was the wealth of bird-life. For once let me -catalogue what I have seen in and about one door-yard and what should be -about every one in the land. At the end of the house, and very near the -corner of the long portico, stood a martin-box, occupied by the birds -for which it was intended. In the porch, so that you could reach it with -your hand, was a wren’s nest, and what a strange house it had! It was a -huge plaster cast of a lion’s head, and between the grim teeth the bird -passed and repassed continually. It promenaded at times on the lion’s -tongue, and sang triumphantly while perched upon an eyebrow. That wren -certainly saw nothing animal-like in the plaster cast as it was, and I -have wondered if it would have been equally free with a stuffed head of -the animal. My many experiments with animals, as to their recognition of -animals as pictured, have demonstrated everything, and so, I am afraid I -must admit, nothing. In the woodbine on the portico were two nests,—a -robin’s and a chipping-sparrow’s. These were close to each other, and -once, when sitting in a rocking-chair, I swayed the woodbine to and fro -without disturbing either bird. In the garden were a mocking-bird, -cat-bird, thistle-finch, song-sparrow, brown thrush, yellow-breasted -chat, and red-eyed vireo. In the trees I saw a great-crested -fly-catcher, purple grakle, a redstart, spotted warbler, and another I -failed to identify. In the field beyond the garden were red-winged -blackbirds and quail, and beyond, crows, fish-hawks, and turkey-buzzards -were in the air; and, as the day closed and the pleasant sights were -shut out, I heard the clear call of the kill-deer plover as they passed -overhead, heard it until it mingled with my dreams. “Providence Farm” is -indeed well named, for the birdy blessing of Providence rests upon it; -but were men more given to considering the ways and wants of wild life, -we might find such pleasant places on every hand. Farms appear to be -growing less farm-like. The sweet simplicity of colonial days has been -well-nigh obliterated, and nothing really better has replaced it. On the -other hand, a modern “country place,” where Nature is pared down until -nothing but the foundation-rocks remain, is, to say the least, an -eyesore. There is more pleasure and profit in an Indian trail than in an -asphaltum driveway. - -Westward lie the meadows, and beyond them the river. Seen as a whole, -they are beautiful and, like all of Nature’s work, will bear close -inspection. The bird’s-eye view to-day was too comprehensive to be -altogether enjoyable: it was bewildering. How completely such a tract -epitomizes a continent! The little creek is a river; the hillock, a -mountain; the brushland, a forest; the plowed tract, a desert. If this -fact were not so generally forgotten we would be better content with -what is immediately about us. Mere bigness is not everything. So, too, -with animal life. We spend time and money to see the creatures caged in -a menagerie, and never see the uncaged ones in the thicket behind the -house. Every lion must roar, or we have not seen the show; a lion -rampant is everything, a lion couchant, nothing. There was no visible -violence in the meadows to-day; Nature was couchant, and I was thankful. -When the tempest drives over the land I want my snug harbor by the -chimney-throat. The sparks can fly upward to join the storm if they -will. The storms I enjoy are matters of hearsay. - -Take up a ponderous government quarto of the geological survey and -glance over the splendid plates of remarkable rocks, cañons, and high -hills, and then look out of your window at the fields and meadow. What a -contrast! Yes, a decided one, and yet if you take an open-eyed walk you -will find a good deal of the same thing, but on a smaller scale. You -have not thought of it before; that is all. I put this matter to a -practical test not long ago, and was satisfied with the result. The last -plate had been looked at and the book was closed with a sigh, and a -restless youth, looking over the wide range of fields before him, was -thinking of the grand mountains, strange deserts, and deep cañons -pictured in the volume on his lap, and comparing such a country with the -monotonous surroundings of his home. - -“What a stupid place this part of the world is!” he said at last. “I -wish I could go out West.” - -“Perhaps it is not so stupid as it looks,” I replied. “Let’s take a -walk.” - -I knew what the book described at which the lad had been looking, and -had guessed his thoughts. We started for a ramble. - -“Let us follow this little brook as far as we can,” I suggested, “and -see what a stupid country can teach us,” purposely quoting my -companion’s words, with a little emphasis. - -Not fifty rods from beautiful old trees the collected waters, as a -little brook, flowed over an outcropping of stiff clay, and here we -voluntarily paused, for what one of us had seen a hundred times before -was now invested with new interest. There was here not merely a smooth -scooping out of a mass of the clay, to allow the waters to pass swiftly -by; the least resisting veins or strata, those containing the largest -percentage of sand, had yielded quickly and been deeply gullied, while -elsewhere the stiff, black ridges, often almost perpendicular, still -withstood the current, and, confining the waters to narrow limits, -produced a series of miniature rapids and one whirlpool that recalled -the head-waters of many a river. - -Near by, where, when swollen by heavy rains, the brook had filled the -little valley, temporary rivulets had rushed with fury over the clay, -and cut in many places deep and narrow transverse channels. From their -steep sides projected many a pebble that gave us “overhanging rocks,” -and one small bowlder bridged a crevice in the clay, and was in use at -the time as a highway for a colony of ants. Near it stood slender, -conical pillars of slightly cemented sand, some six inches in height, -and every one capped with a pebble of greater diameter than the apex of -the supporting sand. These were indeed beautiful. - -“I have never seen them before,” remarked the boy. - -“Very likely,” I replied, “but you have crushed them under foot by the -dozens.” They were not to be overlooked now, though, and in them he saw -perfect reproductions of wonderful “monument rocks” which he had so -lately seen pictured in the ponderous government geological report. - -Withdrawing to the field beyond, where a bird’s-eye view of the brook’s -course could be obtained, we had spread out before us a miniature, in -most of its essentials, of a cañon country. The various tints of the -clay gave the many-colored rocks; the different densities of the several -strata resulted in deep or shallow ravines, fantastic arches, caverns, -and beetling precipices. On a ridiculously small scale, you may say. -True, but not too small for the eyes of him who is anxious to learn. - -A few rods farther down the stream we came to a small sandy island which -divided the brook and made a pleasant variety after a monotonous course -through nearly level fields. A handful of the sand told the story. Here, -meeting with so slight an obstruction as a projecting root, the sandy -clays from above had been deposited in part, and year after year, as the -island grew, the crowded waters had encroached upon the yielding banks -on either side, and made here quite a wide and shallow stream. Small as -it was, this little sand-bar had the characteristic features of all -islands. The water rippled along its sides and gave it a pretty beach of -sloping, snow-white sand, while scarcely more than half a foot inland -the seeds of many plants had sprouted, and along the central ridge or -backbone the sod was thick set, and several acorns, a year before, had -sprouted through it. We found snails, spiders, and insects abundant, and -faint footprints showed that it was not overlooked by the pretty -teetering sand-piper. - -Now came a total change. Abruptly turning from its former -straightforward course, the brook entered a low-lying swamp, crowded to -the utmost with dense growths of tangled vines and stunted trees. The -water was no longer sparkling and colorless, but amber-tinted, and in -many a shallow pool looked more like ink. Life here appeared in many -forms. Small mud-minnows, turtles, and snakes were found in the gloomy, -weed-hidden pools, and numberless insects crowded the rank growths above -as well as the waters beneath. The mutual dependence of vegetation and -animal life was here very striking. Previously we had found -comparatively little either in the brook or about it, but now our eyes -were gladdened not only with what I have mentioned, but birds, too, were -in abundance. - -Bent upon freeing my native county from the charge of stupidity, I led -the way through this “dismal swamp.” It was no easy task. Nowhere were -we sure of our footing, and it required constant leaping from root to -root of the larger trees. There was at times no well-defined channel, -and often we could hear the gurgling waters hurrying beneath our feet, -yet catch no glimpse of them. - -Here, too, other springs welled to the surface, and the augmented volume -of waters finally left the swamp a stream of considerable size, which, -after a tortuous course through many fields, entered a deep and narrow -ravine. After untold centuries the brook has worn away the surface soil -over which it originally flowed, then the gravel beneath, and so down to -the clay, thirty feet below. Upon this now rest the bowlders and such -coarser material as the waters could not transport. - -Clinging to the trees growing upon the sides of the ravine, we closely -followed the course of the troubled, bubbling, foamy waters, stopping -ever and anon to look at the exposed sections of sand and gravel here -shown in curious alternate layers. The meaning of the word “deposits,” -so frequently met with in descriptive geology, was made plain, and when -we noticed of how mixed a character was the coarse gravel, it was easy -to comprehend what had been read of that most interesting phase of the -world’s past history, the glacial epoch, or great ice age. The gravel -was no longer an unsuggestive accumulation of pebbles, but associated -rolled and water-worn fragments of a hundred different rocks that by the -mighty forces of ice and water had been brought to their present -position from regions far away. - -The ravine ended at the meadows, through which the waters passed with -unobstructed flow “to join the brimming river.” As we stood upon the -bank of the mighty stream I remarked, “This is a stupid country, -perhaps, but it has some merits.” I think the boy thought so, too. - - * * * * * - -The meadows are such a comprehensive place that no one knows where to -begin, if the attempt is made to enumerate their features. There is such -a blending of dry land and wet, open and thicket-grown, hedge and brook -and scattered trees, that it is bewildering if you do not choose some -one point for close inspection. From the tree-top I overlook it all, and -try in vain to determine whether the azure strip of flowering iris or -the flaunting crimson of the Turk’s cap lilies is the prettier. Beyond, -in damper soil, the glistening yellow of the sunflowers is really too -bright to be beautiful; but not so where the water is hidden by the huge -circular leaves of the lotus. They are majestic as well as pretty, and -the sparse bloom, yellow and rosy pink, is even the more conspicuous by -reason of its background. How well the birds know the wild meadow -tracts! They have not forsaken my tree and its surroundings, but for one -here I see a dozen there. Mere inky specks, as seen from my point of -view, but I know them as marsh-wrens and swamp-sparrows, kingbirds and -red-wings, that will soon form those enormous flocks that add so marked -a feature to the autumn landscape. It needs no field-glass to mark down -the passing herons that, coming from the river-shore, take a noontide -rest in the overgrown marsh. - -I had once, on the very spot at which I was now looking, an unlooked-for -adventure. For want of something better to do, I pushed my way into the -weedy marsh until I reached a prostrate tree-trunk that during the last -freshet had stranded there. It was a wild place. The tall rose-mallow -and wavy cat-tail were far above my head, and every trace of -civilization was effectually shut out. It was as much a wilderness as -any jungle in the tropics. Nor was I alone. Not a minute elapsed before -a faint squeak told me that there were meadow-mice in the hollow log on -which I sat. Then the rank grass moved and a least bittern came into -view and as quickly disappeared. I heard continually the cackle of the -king-rail, and the liquid twittering of the marsh-wrens was a delight. -The huge globular nests of these birds were everywhere about me; but the -birds did not think of me as having any evil designs upon them, so they -came and went as freely as if alone. This is bird-viewing that one too -seldom enjoys nowadays. Often, and very suddenly, all sound ceased and -every bird disappeared. I did not recognize the cause at first, but was -enlightened a moment later. A large bird passed over, and its very -shadow frightened the little marsh-dwellers. If not, the shadow and -fright were a coincidence several times that morning. The day, for me, -ended with the unusual chance of a close encounter with a great blue -heron. I saw the bird hover for a moment directly overhead, and then, -letting its legs drop, it descended with lead-like rapidity. I leaned -backward to avoid it, and could have touched the bird when it reached -the ground, it was so near. I shall never know which was the more -astonished. Certainly, had it chosen, it could have stabbed me through -and through. - -I was glad to be again on drier land and in open country. There had been -adventure enough; and yet, as seen from a distance, this bit of marsh -was but weeds and water. - -Southward there stands the remnant of a forest: second- and third-growth -woodland usually; for trees of really great age are now generally alone. -I can see from where I sit three primeval beeches that are known to be -over two centuries old, and not far away towered one giant tulip-tree -that since the country’s earliest settlement had stood like a faithful -sentinel, guarding the south bank of a nameless spring brook. Ever a -thing of beauty, it shone with added splendor at night, when the rising -full moon rested in its arms, as if weary at the very outset of her -journey. My grandfather told me that in his boyhood it was known as the -“Indian tree,” because a basket-maker and his squaw had a wigwam there. -That was a century ago, and often, of late years, I have hunted on the -spot for some trace of these redskins, but found nothing, although all -about, in every field, were old Indian relics, even their cherished -tobacco-pipes. Small, recent growths of timber, even where they have -succeeded an ancient forest, are not, as a rule, attractive. Their -newness is too evident, and, except for a few passing birds, they are -not apt to harbor much wild life. As I look at the mingled foliage of -oaks and elms, beeches, hickories, and wild cherry, I give little heed -to that before me and recall forests worthy of the name, doing precisely -what I have declared unwise. A naturalist could find more material in -these few acres of woodland than he could “work up” in a lifetime. I -have underrated them. From the little thicket of blackberry vines I see -a rabbit slowly loping, as if in search of food. It is a full-grown -fellow, and suggests the round of the traps in late autumn and the woods -in winter. - -I never knew a boy brought up in the country who was not at one time an -enthusiastic trapper. Just as mankind in the infancy of the world were -forced to pit their energy and skill against the cunning of the animals -needed for food or of such that by reason of their fierceness endangered -human life, so the country boy of to-day puts his intelligence to work -to circumvent the superiority of such animal life as by fleetness of -foot or stroke of wing can avoid the pursuer. It is a question largely -of brain against anatomical structure. No Indian, even, ever outran a -deer, nor savage anywhere by mere bodily exertion stopped the flight of -a bird. Men were all sportsmen, in a sense, when sport, as we call it, -was necessary to human existence. As centuries rolled by, such animals -and birds as came in daily contact with man necessarily had their sleepy -wits aroused, and now it is a case of cunning against cunning. We are -all familiar with such phrases as “wild as a hawk” and “shy as a deer.” -In the morning of man’s career on earth there were no such words as -“shy” and “wild.” They came into use, as words are constantly coming -into our language, because circumstances make them a necessity; and as -men were trappers before they were traders or tillers of the field, so -the words are old, and while animal life lasts they will be retained. - -Nowadays we generally outgrow this love of trapping, or it remains in -the love of sport with gun or rod. But, old Izaak Walton and Frank -Forrester to the contrary notwithstanding, I hold that nothing in -fishing or shooting has that freshness, that thrilling excitement, that -close touch with nature, that clings to our early days, when, in autumn -and winter, we went the round of the traps. How through the long night -we had visions of the rabbit cautiously approaching the box-trap on the -edge of the swamp! How clearly we saw in the corner of the weedy old -worm-fence the stupid opossum bungling along, and awoke with a start as -the clumsy creature sprang the trap from the outside! I pity the boy who -has not had such a distressing dream. - -No boy ever turned out before sunrise with a smiling countenance to milk -or help in any way with farm work; but how different when it was a -matter of the traps he had set the night before! The anticipation of -success is an all-sufficient incentive, and neither bitter cold nor -driving storm deters him. Of a winter dawn much might be said. No boy -ever was abroad so early that the squirrels were not before him, and in -the fading light of the stars he will hear the crows cawing and the -blue-jays chattering in the woods. To the naturalist, of course, such -time of day is full of suggestiveness; but the general belief that it is -a proper time to sleep will never be given up. Indeed, judging others by -myself, as the boy gets well on in his teens there is a growing -disposition to let the traps go until broad daylight and even until -after breakfast. This is unfortunate in two ways: there is a likelihood -of seeing animal life in the full flush of activity in the pre-sunlit -hours that is unknown as the day advances; the night-prowlers are all -gone to their dens, and the birds that roost in colonies have dispersed -for the day. One seldom overtakes a raccoon or a weasel at or near -noontide, and in the woods where a thousand robins have roosted there -may now not be one. Then, again, your visit to the traps may be -anticipated if you are too deliberate in starting on your rounds. This -is an experience that no boy of spirit can calmly undergo, and no -wonder. The rude box-trap was not easy to make, considering the usual -condition of tools upon a farm. The hunt for likely places whereat to -set it had been real labor. The long tramp in the gloaming when tired -out from a day at school; the early tramp, before sunrise perhaps, for -he must be on time at school that morning,—all this is to be considered; -but if success crowns the effort, all is well. On the other hand, to -find that some rascal has been ahead of you and your labor has gone for -nothing—— I never knew a boy to be a saint at such a time. - -I can recall a well-marked rabbit-path I once found, half a mile from -home, and with great secrecy carried one of my traps to the place. It -was on the next farm, and so I had to be more than usually careful. -Nothing could be done in daylight for fear the boys living on that farm -would find me out, and this sort of poaching was not tolerated. At first -I was successful, catching two fine rabbits, and then, alas! was so -elated that, boylike, I said too much. Some one must have tracked me, -for I caught no more, although it was evident that the trap had been -disturbed. Straightway I suspected treachery, and prepared for revenge. - -Now, auntie had a fur tippet, or “boa,” as she called it, which was just -six feet long. The moths one summer had ruined it, and for some time it -had been lying around uncared for and a plaything for the younger -children. This I appropriated, and fastened to one end of it a rabbit’s -head, with the ears wired up and with huge painted marbles bulging from -the sockets for eyes. It was a startling if not life-like creature. - -Armed with this, I started after dark to the trap, and soon had all in -readiness for my victim. I coiled the “boa” into the rear of the box and -placed the head near the opening of the trap. The “figure-of-four” -triggers were laid outside in such a way as to suggest that the trap had -been sprung by an animal. Then I went home. - -The next morning I went to school without visiting the spot, fearing I -might meet with the supposed offender. All day long I wondered. No boy -had any marvellous tale to tell and no one looked at all guilty. There -soon came over me a feeling that perhaps I had played a trick upon -myself, and by sundown I was rather reluctant to determine if anything -had happened; but go I did. The trap had evidently been disturbed. The -“boa” with the rabbit’s head was lying at full length outside and the -bushes were broken as if a bull had rushed through them. But who or what -had been there? - -Two days of most distressing doubt passed, and then came Saturday. I was -ill at ease and took no pleasure in my holiday; but about noon our -neighbor came over, and I heard him tell grandfather how, on Fifth-day, -while the family were at breakfast, Bill, the bound boy, came rushing -into the room and exclaimed, excitedly, “Something from the menagerie’s -broke loose and got in the rabbit-trap!” - -I had had my revenge. - -A wood, to be at its best, should be located on the shore of a lake or -river, or, perhaps better still, a river should run through it. Here are -my impressions of such a wood, from my note-book of 1892, under date of -May 1: - -Nothing could have been more fitting than to take a May-day outing at -such a place. The swift current of the Great Egg Harbor River rolled -resistlessly along, its waters black as night, save where, over the -pebbly shallows, it gleamed like polished amber. The wind that swayed -the tall crowns of the towering pines made fitting music, according well -with the rippling laugh of the fretted river, while heard above all were -the joyous songs of innumerable warblers. - -We had placed our boat upon a wagon six miles below our point of -departure, and partly realized on our way what this pine region really -was. The cedar swamp, the oak openings, the arbutus that gave color to -the narrow wagon-track, the absence of man’s interference,—all tended to -give us the full significance of that most suggestive word, wilderness. -We needed but to catch a glimpse of an Indian to see this part of -creation precisely as it was in pre-Columbian days. I sat for some time -in the boat before taking up the anchor. This was but the entrance, I -was told, to spots more beautiful, but it was hard to believe. Here was -a river hidden in a forest, and what more could one wish? The warblers -well knew that May-day had come again, and every one of the mighty host -greeted the brilliant sunshine. There seemed literally to be hundreds of -them. Flashing like gems were redstarts, light as swallows upon the -wing. Bright-spotted warblers, and others sombre gray, laughed as they -tarried on the trembling twigs; then, mounting into the sunlight, sang -loudly as they flew, or darted into gloomy nooks so hidden that not even -a sunbeam could follow them. - -The river with its attendant birds could not claim all the merit; the -land was no less beautiful. The oaks were not yet in leaf, but there was -no lack of green. The holly’s foliage was bright as May, the polished -leaves of the tea-berry shone as a midsummer growth, the ink-berry had -defied the winter’s storms, and the maples glowed as a great ruddy -flame. Really distinct as was every object, yet, as a whole, the outlook -was dreary, hazy, half obscure, as we looked directly into the wood, -where the drooping moss festooned the branches of the smaller oaks. - -No voyager ever set forth from so fair a port. - -My companion knew the route, and with an oar he took his place astern to -guide the boat safely down the swift stream. It was all right as it -proved, but at times I forgot that I had come to see the forest. -Instead, an element of doubt as to the guide’s ability came painfully to -the front. With devilish malignancy, as I thought, trees had prostrated -themselves and rested just beneath the water’s surface, or stood up, -with outreached arms, as if defying us. How we passed many a crook and -turn I cannot now remember. I was too much occupied with desperately -clutching at anything within reach to notice the “when” or “how,” but -there still remains the delicious sensation of suddenly shooting into -smooth water and feeling—brave as a lion. - -For several miles on either side of the stream we had a typical mixed -forest. The willow-oak predominated at times, and the delicate foliage, -so unlike other oaks, was very beautiful. The leaves appeared -translucent in the bright sunlight, fairly sparkled, and once made a -splendid background to scarlet tanagers that flashed through them. In -this long reach of dense woods there were fewer birds than at our -starting-point, or perhaps they held back as we passed. But other life -was not wanting. From many a projecting stump there slid many a turtle -into the dark waters, and a mink or musk-rat crossed our bow. Careful -search would no doubt have revealed numerous creatures, for here was a -safe retreat for all the fauna of the State. The deer are not yet quite -gone, possibly a few bears remain. Certainly the raccoon and otter must -be abundant. I was constantly on the lookout for minks, for the river -abounds in fish. This animal is sometimes mistaken for a huge snake, as -it rises several inches above the water at times, and has then a rather -startling appearance. An old fisherman on Chesapeake Bay told me that he -had seen a mink with a huge eel in its mouth come to the surface, and -then the wriggling fish and long, lithe body of the mink together looked -like two serpents fighting. I can readily imagine it. Birches, -liquidambars, and pines in clusters would next command attention, and -usually there was a dense undergrowth. Holding the boat, at times, we -could hear the water rushing through the roots of this tangled mass, and -found that what we had supposed was firm land afforded no certain -footing, and a bluff of firm earth was very welcome when we thought of -landing for a hasty lunch. This _firm_ earth did indeed support us, but -in reality it was the most unstable of shifting sands, being held in -place by reindeer-moss, partridge-berry, and other pine-barren growths. -Nothing was in sight but the scrubby pines, and we had to be very -careful that our fire did not get among the “needles” and dash through -the woods. I found here absolutely no birds. They seem all to prefer the -tracts covered by deciduous trees; but insect-feeders could have -flourished here. The steam of our dinner-pot brought more substantial -forms than mosquitoes, one house-fly being determined to share my -Frankfurter and successfully defying all attempts at capture. - -Again afloat, we soon came to the mouth of an inflowing stream called -Dead River, said to be very deep. This point was perhaps the wildest of -all. The open water here was very wide, and a forest of projecting -stumps of various heights showed plainly that we were on the edge of an -area of drowned land. In the distance was an unbroken background of -pines, which now looked black. At wide intervals could be seen huge -pines that had escaped the charcoal-burner or lumberman. The stems and -lower branches were, of course, concealed, but in the hazy atmosphere -the tops were as floating islands of darkest green, standing boldly out -against the pearly sky behind them. - -Here, at the mouth of Dead River, we beheld a pretty sight. A wood-duck -with her brood rushed over the water in a most lively manner, flecking -the black expanse with patches of white foam. Such incidents add much to -such a journey. An empty forest is as forbidding as an empty house. - -In the coves there were changes from the surrounding scenery that were -not to be overlooked. A rank growth of golden-club resting on the dark -waters was very striking. The picture was such as we see on a Claude -Lorrain glass. Near by fresh sphagnum in a shallow pool was bronze and -green: a place for frogs to squat unseen, but I could find none. How -often this happens! At the very places where we think animal life will -be in abundance we can find no trace of it. Then, looking up, we see but -trees. No break in the line that hems us in. Trees old and young, trees -living and dead, great and small; nothing but trees. - -The wind freshened as the day grew old, and doubly troubled were the -waters. There was no rest for them now, even in sheltered nooks, and it -was only by sturdy strokes of the oars that we made headway at all. -There was no perceptible current to bear us along as before. The waves -dashing against the bare trunks of trees long dead and now bent by the -wind added much to the wild scene. Novel as it all was, I could not -quite enjoy it. It was something to be contemplated from the shore, I -thought. I know I was laughed at, but the many “blind” stumps, or those -just beneath the surface, of which my companion spoke so unconcernedly -came too prominently to mind when I least expected them, and added much -significance to the fact that I cannot swim. - -As we neared home the scene abruptly changed, and the river was lost in -a wide expanse that might be called a lake if the fact was not so -evident that it is a mill-pond. This, however, did not detract from the -beauty of the surroundings, and before our final landing we drew up to a -bold bit of shore and searched, while it was yet day, for pyxie. There -was an abundance of blooming andromeda, too, and arbutus, with clubmoss -of richest green. I almost placed my hand on a centipede that glowed -like an emerald. It was resting on ruddy sphagnum, and made a splendid -picture. I could not capture the creature. An attempt to do so on my -part was followed by its disappearance with a suddenness that could be -likened only to the flashes of light that played upon its back. Here I -heard many frogs, but could find none. The rattle and peep were not like -the voices of those in the meadows at home, and I wondered about Cope’s -new tiger-frog and the little green hyla that is so rare here in Jersey. -Possibly I heard them both; probably not. - -We returned to prosy life when the boat was lifted over the dam, and the -incidents were few and commonplace in the short drift that carried us to -an old wharf, a relic of the last century. - - * * * * * - -What a difference between such a forest and a few hundred oaks and ashes -at home! and yet these are far better than treeless fields. It is these -few trees that hold many of our migratory birds, and through them, in -spring, troop the north-bound warblers. In the gloaming a small tract of -woodland widens out, and, seeing no open country beyond, what does it -matter, if we walk in a circle, whether it be one acre or one thousand? -There is good philosophy in “Small favors thankfully received.” Here in -this little wood are beautiful white-footed mice, a shy, nocturnal -jerboa, flying-squirrels, and, if I mistake not, a whole family of -opossums. Here, until autumn, are wood-robins that never weary us by -overmuch singing, and cat-birds, chewinks, and the rose-breasted -grosbeak. I do not complain, but as the summer passes I regret that -these birds have their appointed time and will soon be gone. Why so -soon? I often wonder, for their haunts do not lose their loveliness for -weeks after they have disappeared. - - No wall of green above, about, - They silently steal away; - With but a carpet of withered leaves, - The minstrel will not stay. - -But the spot is no “banquet-hall deserted,” for all that; the departure -of the summer birds is but to make way for those who have gladdened -Canadian woods for many weeks. The purple finch will soon be here, and -tree-sparrows in great companies, and the gentle white-throat; and -these, with our stately cardinal for a leader, will hold forth -melodiously, though the north winds blow and the angry east wind brings -the snow upon its wings. - -In the smile of winter sunshine there will be enacted another drama, but -now it is comedy rather than tragedy. There are no conflicting interests -now, no serious quarrels, no carking cares—the world is really in good -humor and our days of early darkness are misunderstood. - -Let him who doubts—and there are but few who do not—turn from the worn -lines of travel, go well out of the beaten path, and find, in the -way-side nooks his neighbors have neglected, most excellent company: -birds of brave heart that can sing in the teeth of a storm; and many a -creature, wrapped in his furry coat, laughs at the earnest efforts of -winter to keep him from his outings. - -Did I dare sit in this same oak when the leaves have fallen, I should -have strange tales to tell,—tales so strange that the summertide would -be commonplace in comparison. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER SECOND - - _A HUNT FOR THE PYXIE_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -No storm raged to defeat a long-cherished plan, and we must laugh at -threatening clouds or miss many an outing. In dreams the pyxie had been -blooming for weeks, and to prove that not all dreams go by contraries, I -started on a flower-hunt. This is not always so tame and adventureless a -matter as one might think. There are wood-blooms that scorn even a trace -of man’s interference, and the pyxie is one of them. Nature alone can -provide its wants, and only where Nature holds undisputed sway can it be -found. To find this beautiful flower we must plunge into the wilderness. - -It was a long tramp, but never wanting a purpose for every step taken. -Each turn in the path offered something new, and if ever for a moment a -trace of weariness was felt, it was because even to our hungry eyes the -wilderness was overfull. Bewildering multitudes are more to be feared -than possible dangers. There is no escape from the former. Not a tree or -bush, not a bird or blossom, but to-day offered excellent reason why -with them we should spend our time; and how often they all spoke at -once! - -Except the ceaseless rattle of small frogs, there was no sound, for that -sad sighing of the tall pines seems but the rhythmic breathing of -silence; or, passing from the wet grounds to the higher, drier, and more -barren tracts, we heard only the crisp crackling of the reindeer-moss we -crushed at every step. Although - - “It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, - And that craves wary walking,” - -we gave no thought to possible danger,—for rattlesnakes are still to be -found. Not even when we stooped to pick the bright berries of -winter-green did we think of a coiled serpent buried in dead leaves; and -what opportunity for murder the serpent had as we buried our faces in -pillows of pink and pearly arbutus! - -At last we reached South River (in Southern New Jersey), and just here -was no place to tarry, unless to court melancholy. It was not required -that my companion should enumerate the reasons why the one-time farm -along the river-bank had been abandoned. A glance at the surrounding -fields told the whole story. There was, indeed, barrenness,—and very -different, this, from what obtains in localities near by to which the -same term is applied. In the so-called pine barrens there is a luxuriant -vegetation; but here about the deserted house and out-building there was -nothing but glistening sand, moss, and those pallid grasses that suggest -death rather than life, however feeble. And how widely different is it -to be surrounded by ruin wrought by man, and to be in a forest where man -has never been! Could I not have turned my back upon the scene and -looked out only upon the river, the day’s pleasure would have vanished. -But we were soon away, and a naturalist’s paradise was spread before us. -What constitutes such a place? Not necessarily one where man has never -been: it will suffice if Nature has withstood his interference; and this -is true of these pine barrens, this weedy wilderness, this silent -battle-field where the struggle for existence never ceases, and yet, as -we see it, peaceful as the fleecy clouds that fleck an April sky. - -Though the wind that swept the wide reach of waters close at hand still -smacked of wintry weather, there was a welcome warmth on shore. The oaks -even hinted of the coming leaf. Their buds were so far swollen that the -sharp outlines of bare twigs against the sky were rounded off. The ruddy -stems of the blueberry bushes gave to the river-bank a fire-like glow, -and yet more telling was the wealth of bright golden glow where the tall -Indian grass waved in all its glory. The repellent desolation of -midwinter, so common to our cold-soil upland fields, was wholly wanting -here; for, while nothing strongly suggested life as we think of it, even -in early spring, yet nothing recalled death, the familiar feature of a -midwinter landscape. - -The scattered cedars were not gloomy to-day. Their green-black foliage -stood out in bold relief, a fitting background to the picture of -Spring’s promises. That the sea was not far off is evident, for even -here, a dozen miles from the ocean, many of these trees were bent and -squatty at the top, as are all those that face the fury of storms along -the coast. Every one harbored north-bound migrating birds; restless, -warbling kinglets principally. No other tree seemed to attract these -pretty birds, many a flock passing by scores of oaks to the next cedar -in their line of march. The clustered pines were not similarly favored, -not a bird of any kind appearing about them, and life of all kinds was -wholly absent in the long aisles between their stately trunks. Our path -led us through one great grove where every tree grew straight and tall -as a ship’s mast. The light that filled this wood was strangely -beautiful. Nothing stood out distinctly. To have passed here in the -gloaming would have tried weak nerves. Even in the glare of noonday my -imagination was abnormally active, every stunted shrub and prostrate log -assuming some startling shape. Think of such a place after sunset! Let -an owl whoop in your ears when hedged in by thick-set trees! -Philosophize as one will in daylight, it goes for little now, and the -days of Indians, cougars, and all ill-natured beasts come trooping back. -This distrust of darkness is not mere cowardice, and I would accept no -one’s statement that he is wholly free of it. Every sound becomes unduly -significant when we are alone in a wilderness; often unpleasantly so, -even during the day, and - - “in the night, imagining some fear, - How easy is a bush supposed a bear!” - -Out of the pines and into the oak woods: the change was very abrupt, and -as complete as possible. Every feature of the surroundings was bathed in -light now, and the emergence from the pine forest’s gloom restored our -spirits. We are ever craving variety, and there was positive beauty in -every stunted oak’s ugliness, and from them we needed but to turn our -heads to see thrifty magnolias near the river-bank. These have no -special enemy, now that the beavers are gone, and thrive in the black -mud by the water’s edge; better, by far, than the gum-trees near them, -for these were heavy laden with pallid mistletoe,—to me a most repugnant -growth. - -We reached open country at last, and here were birds without number. How -quickly all else fades at such a time! The whole valley trembled with -the ringing whistle of a thousand red-wings. A few swallows—the first of -their kind to return—darted over the wide waters and rested on -projecting branches of trees that floods had stranded on the islands. -The sprightly kill-deers ran with such dainty steps over the sand that I -could not find their footprints. They, too, were pioneer birds, but none -the less light-hearted because alone. They sang with all their last -year’s earnestness, scattering music among the marshes where frogs were -now holding high carnival. They were very tame, at least so far as we -were concerned, but a little in doubt as to what a stray hawk might be -about. But they left us only to make room for others, and whether we -looked riverward or landward mattered not: it was birds, birds, birds! -Here a hundred sparrows in an oak, there a troop of snow-birds in the -bushes, a whistling titmouse sounding his piercing notes, the plaintive -bluebird floating overhead, the laugh of the loon at the bend of the -river, and buzzards searching for stranded herring where the seine had -been drawn. - -A flock of herons, too, passed overhead, and, had they not seen us, -might have stopped here on the river-shore. What an addition to a -landscape! and yet now so seldom seen. No birds can be more harmless -than they, yet not even the hawks are subject to greater persecution. -Not long since these birds were abundant, and a “heronry” was one of the -“sights” of many a neighborhood; but people now scarcely know what a -“heronry” is. The very word suggests how rapidly our large birds are -disappearing, and their roosting-places, where hundreds gathered and -nested, too, in season, are matters of “ancient history.” In fear and -trembling, the herons that linger about our watercourses singly seek -secluded trees wherein to rest, and, I fear, even then sleep with one -eye open. A fancy, on the part of women, for heron plumes has wrought a -deal of mischief. - -But where is the pyxie? We knew it must be near at hand, but why make -haste to find it? All else was so beautiful here, why not wait even -until another day? The river-bank was itself a study. At the top, sand -of snowy whiteness; then a ribbon of clay over which water trickled -carrying iron in solution, that was slowly cementing a sand stratum -beneath, where every degree of density could be found, from solid rock -to a paste-like mass that we took pleasure in moulding into fantastic -shapes, thereby renewing our dirt-pie days. - -A little later in the year, this bluff, now streaked and spotted, will -be green with the broad-leaved sundews, curious carnivorous plants that -here take the place of grasses. There is a filiform sundew that grows -near by, where the ground is high, if not dry; but it, too, waits for -warmer days. Not so the pyxie. Almost at first glance, as we left the -bluff, we saw it, sparkling white, nestled among the gray mats of -reindeer-moss, or fringed by shining winter-green still laden with its -crimson fruit. - -Here the earth was strangely carpeted. Sphagnum, beautiful by reason of -rich color, gray-green moss, and the object of our long tramp,—pyxie. No -botany does it justice, passing it by with the mere mention of its -barbarous name, _Pyxidanthera barbulata_. It might be thought the -meanest of all weeds, but is, in truth, the chiefest glory of this -wonderful region. - -Is it strange we regretted that Time would not slacken his pace? I know -not where else, in these northern regions, so much is to be seen, and so -soon. Spring, elsewhere, is the round year’s strangest child, often too -forward, and too often backward; but her accomplishments here and now -are beyond criticism. Such perfect work, and yet she is not out of her -teens. The day was April 1. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER THIRD - - _THE COMING OF THE BIRDS_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -The moon in April is an important factor in the progress of that -event—the coming of the birds—which makes every spring memorable. While -not disposed to wait upon it too long, still, there is little doubt but -that the birds that have been wintering afar south travel very largely -by its light, and when it happens that the moon fulls between the middle -and the twenty-fifth of the month, the flights of thrushes, orioles, -wrens, and other migrants reach us a week earlier than when the nights -are dark during the same period. Temperature, storms, and general -backwardness of the season do not seem to have a like importance in bird -economy. - -Of course, by the coming of the birds I do not refer to the pioneers -that are in advance of every company. Indeed, I have seldom announced -the first of the season, but I have been met by the man who was at least -one day ahead of me; so firstlings are not favorites. - -There is every year the one memorable morning when we can say, in broad -terms, “The birds are here.” When the oriole whistles from the tallest -tree in the lawn; when the wren chatters from the portal of his old-time -home; when the indigo-finch sings in the weedy pasture; when lisping -warblers throng every tree and shrub; while over all, high in air, the -twittering swallows dart in ecstasy; and at last, the day-long concert -over, whippoorwills in the woods pipe their monotonous refrain. The -Indians were right: when there came such days as this, they had no -further fear of frost, and we need have but little. Our climate -certainly has changed slightly since their time, but we have in such a -bird-full day an assurance that the clinging finger-tips of Winter have -at last relaxed and his hold upon our fields and forests is lost. - -A word again of the advance guard. The brown thrush came on the -seventeenth of the month (April, 1892), when there were no leafy -thickets and the maples only were in bloom. What a glorious herald he -proved! and so he always proves. Before the sun was up I heard him in my -dreams, and later the fancy proved a fact. Perched at the very top of an -old walnut-tree, where the wintry world was spread before him, he sang -that song peculiarly his own. - - No hint of blushing roses on the hill, - The buds are sleeping yet upon the plain, - The blight of dreary winter clingeth still, - The forest weeps where falls the chilly rain. - - Scarce hopeful leaf-buds shrink—death’s solemn hush - Rests on the field, the meadow brook along, - Till breaks the day, O happy day! the thrush - Foretells the coming summer in a song. - -Two days later it was almost summer, and tripping along the river’s -pebbly beach were spotted sand-pipers. They were ahead of time this -year, I thought, but none the less happy because the trees were bare and -the water cold; but, stranger still, in the sheltered coves of the -mill-pond, that now reflected the gold of the spice-wood and the crimson -of the overhanging maples, there were warblers, merry as in midsummer, -and a pair, at least, of small thrushes. A bittern, too, stood in the -weedy marsh. There they had gathered on that sunny, summery day, as if -warm weather was an established fact; but how different the next -morning, when a cold north-east storm prevailed! How well it showed that -one such sunny day does not make a season! How clearly it proved that -birds have no prophetic insight! They were caught and suffered and -disappeared. Did they fly above the clouds and go to some distant point, -free of chilling rain, or did they hide in the cedar swamps? This -problem I did not essay to solve. In the few cedars along the -river-shore I found nothing but winter residents, but I made no careful -search. A few days later and spring-like conditions again prevailed and -every day some new bird was seen, but not until May 1 could we say, “The -birds have come.” - -These uncertain April days are not disappointing. We are not warranted -in expecting much of them, and whatsoever we do meet with is just so -much more than we had reason to look for,—an added bit of good luck that -increases our love for the year’s fourth month; but if no migrant came, -there is little likelihood that the pastures and rivershore would be -silent. There never was an April that had not its full complement of -robins and blithe meadow-larks, of glorious crested tits and gay -cardinals, of restless red-wings and stately grakles, and these are -quite equal to driving dull care away, and keeping it away, if the -migrants did not come at all. Even in March, and early in the month, we -often have a foretaste of abundant bird-life; an intimation of what a -few weeks will bring us. A bright March morning in 1893 was an instance -of this. I walked for miles along the river-bank with a learned German -who was enthusiastic about everything but what interested me. This may -not seem to be a promising outlook, but we undertook to convert each -other. I was to give up my frivolity, he determined. My effort was to -get his dry-as-dust whimsies out of him. The great ice-gorge of the past -winter was now a torrent of muddy waters and huge cakes of crystal that -rushed and roared not only through the river’s channel, but over half -the meadow-land that bordered it. It was, I admit, an excellent -opportunity to study the effects of such occurrences, for to them is due -the shaping of the valley, and gravel transportation, and all that; but -then there was the effect of light and shade upon the wonderful scene, -and beauty like this crowded out my taste for geology. The sky was -darkly blue, flecked with great masses of snow white-cloud that drifted -between the sun and earth, casting shadows that blackened the ice and -brought winter back again; but a moment later a flood of sunshine as -promptly changed all, and the bluebirds hinted of spring. Then, too, the -gulls and crows screamed above the roar and crunching of the ice as it -struck the scattered trees, while in every sheltered nook was a full -complement of song-sparrows. Why any one should bother about geology at -such a time I could not see; but my companion was intent upon problems -of the ice age, and continually remarked, “Now, if” or “Don’t you see?” -but I always cut him short with “See that crow?” or “Hear that sparrow?” -No, he had not seen or heard the birds, and neither had I his particular -impressions. At last the sunshine broke upon him, and he laughed aloud -when he saw the crows trying to steal a ride on ice-rafts that -continually upset. I was hopeful now, and he soon heard the birds that -sang, and whistled after a long line of kill-deer plover that hurried -by, every one calling to his fellows. It was something to know that the -coming of the birds can rouse a German out of his everlasting problems. -He had more to say of the springtide so near at hand than had I, and, -nosing over the ground, found nine vigorous plants in active growth, and -spoke so learnedly of _Cyperus_, _Galium_, _Allium_, and _Saponaria_ -that I as glibly thought, in jealous mood, “Confound him!” for now he -was taking possession of my province and showing me my littleness; but -then I had dragged him out of his problems. - -The truth is, I was in something like despair when we started out, for I -feared a lecture on physical geography, and, indeed, did not quite -escape; but the bitter was well mixed with the sweet, and he in time -listened with all my ardor to the birds that braved the boisterous wind -and were not afraid of a river wilder than they had ever seen before. -The day proved to be of more significance than as regards mere glacial -geology. It was a foretaste of what was coming in April. I drew a -glowing picture of what our April meant, and pictured a peaceful river -and violets and meadow blossoms as bright as they were fragrant. My -learned friend smiled, then grew enthusiastic; must come again to see -the birds as they arrived, and—must I say it?—spoke of beer. Alas! it -was Sunday. - -There are two reasons why April birds are particularly attractive. One -is, there are fewer of them, and again, there is practically no foliage -to conceal them. Better one bird in full view than a dozen half hidden. -Their songs, too, have a flavor of novelty, and ring so assuringly -through the leafless woods. The ear forever bends graciously to -promises, even though we know they will be broken; but birds, unlike -men, are not given to lying. When they promise May flowers and green -leaves they mean it, and, so far as history records, there has never -been a May without them, not even the cold May of 1816, when there was -ice and snow. But aside from their singing, April birds offer the -opportunity of studying their manners, which is better to know than the -number of their tail-feathers or the color of their eggs. The brown -thrush that sings so glibly from the bare branch of a lonely tree shows -now, by his way of holding himself and pointing his tail, that he is -closely akin to the little wrens and their big cousin, the Carolina -mocker, so called, which does not mock at all. Of all our April birds, I -believe I love best the chewink, or swamp-robin. To be sure, he is no -more a feature of April than of June, and many are here all winter; but -when he scatters the dead leaves and whistles his bi-syllabic refrain -with a vim that rouses an echo, or mounts a bush and sings his few notes -of real music, we forget that summer is only on the way, but not yet -here. Of all our birds, I always fancied this one was most set in his -singing, as he surely is in his ways; but Cheney tells us that "this -bird, like many others, can extemporize finely when the spirit moves -him. For several successive days one season a chewink gave me very -interesting exhibitions of the kind. He fairly revelled in the new song, -repeating it times without number. Whether he stole it from the first -strain of ‘Rock of Ages’ or it was stolen from him or some of his -family, is a question yet to be decided." Now, the chewink is a bird of -character, and, above all things, dislikes interference, and he sings -“for his own pleasure, for he frequently lets himself out lustily when -he knows he is all alone,” as Dr. Placzeck has said of birds in general. -I shall never forget a little incident I once witnessed, in which a -chewink and a cardinal grosbeak figured. They reached the same bush at -the same moment, and both started their songs. The loud whistle of the -red-bird quite smothered the notes of the chewink, which stopped -suddenly before it was through and, with a squeak of impatience, made a -dash at the intruder and nearly knocked him off his perch. Such haps and -mishaps as these—and they are continually occurring—can only be seen in -April or earlier, when we can see through the woods, and not merely the -outer branches of the trees when in leaf. In April we can detect, too, -the earliest flowers, and they fit well with the songs of the -forerunning birds. There is more, I think, for all of us in an April -violet than in a June rose; in a sheltered bit of turf with sprouting -grass than in the wide pastures a month later. We do not hurry in-doors -at the sudden coming of an April shower. The rain-drops that cling to -the opening leaf-buds are too near real gems not to be fancied a -veritable gift to us, and we toy with the baubles for the brief moment -that they are ours. The sunshine that follows such a shower has greater -magic in its touch than it possesses later in the year; the buds of the -morning now are blossoms in the afternoon, so quickening is the warmth -of the first few days of spring. The stain of winter is washed away by -an April shower, and the freshest green of the pasture is ever that -which is newest. There is at times a subtle element in the atmosphere -that the chemist calls “ozone,” but a better name is “snap.” It dwells -in April sunshine and is the inveterate foe of inertia. It moves us, -whether we will or not, and we are now in a hurry even when there is no -need of haste. The “spring fever” that we hear of as a malady in town -never counts as its victim the lover of an April outing. The beauty of -novelty is greater than the beauty of abundance. Our recollection of a -whole summer is but dim at best, but who forgets the beginnings thereof? -We passed by unheeding many a sweet song before the season was over, but -can recall, I venture to say, our first glimpse of the returning spring. -Though the sky may be gray, the earth brown, and the wind out of the -north, let a thrush sing, a kinglet lisp, a crested tit whistle, and a -tree-sparrow chirp among the swelling leaf-buds, and you have seen and -heard that which is not only a delight in itself, but the more pleasing -that it is the prelude announcing the general coming of the birds. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER FOURTH - - _THE BUILDING OF THE_ - _NEST_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -There are probably very few children who are not more or less familiar -with birds’ nests, for they are not by any means confined to the -country, but are to be found in the shade trees of every village street, -to say nothing of the old-time lilac hedges, gooseberry bushes, and -homely shrubbery of fifty years ago. Even in our large cities there are -some few birds brave enough to make their homes in or very near the -busiest thoroughfares. As an instance, it was not so long ago that a -yellow-breasted chat—a shy bird—nested in the yard of the Pennsylvania -Hospital, at the corner of Eighth and Spruce Streets, Philadelphia, and -soon learned to mimic many a familiar street sound. Such instances as -these were more common before the unfortunate blunder of introducing the -English sparrow. But it is in the country only that we find boys really -posted in the matter of nests, and I wish I could add that they always -adopt the rules of “hands off” when these nests come under their notice. -It means far more mischief than most people think to disturb a nest, and -so let every boy decide that he will not be guilty of such wanton -cruelty. This, however, does not shut off every boy and girl in the land -from studying these nests, and a more delightful subject can never come -under youthful investigation. - -What is a bird’s nest? Every one knows, after a fashion, and yet few -have ever considered how much that bunch of twigs, hollow in a tree, or -hole in the ground really means. Like so much that is familiar, we -glance at it in a careless way and never stop to consider its full -significance. Except in a very few instances, a bird’s nest is never the -result of a single individual’s labor. Even if but one bird does all the -work, there has previously been a decision reached by two birds as to -where the nest shall be placed, and how much this means! At once we are -brought to consider that an interchange of thought has taken place. The -pair have discussed, literally, the merits and drawbacks of the -situation, and have had in mind not only their own safety, but that of -their offspring. The fact that they make mistakes at times proves this. -Were this not the case, or if nests were placed hap-hazard in any tree -or bush or anywhere on the ground, bird enemies would have a happy time -for a short season, and then birds, like many of the world’s huge -beasts, would become extinct. On the contrary, birds have long since -learned to be very careful, and their ingenuity in this apparently -simple matter of choosing a nest site is really astonishing. This, too, -has resulted in quickening their wits in all directions, and the bird -that is really a booby is scarcely to be found. - -Birds suffer at times from their misjudgment or over-confidence, and -this, it must be added, reflects upon us. The instances are numberless -where birds have quickly learned that certain people love them, and they -lose all fear. Again, naturally very timid birds soon learn when they -are free from persecution. The writer frequently passes in the cars by a -zoological garden on the bank of a river, and has been impressed with -the abundant illustration of birds’ intelligence to be noticed there. -The crows have learned that fire-arms are not allowed to be used -anywhere near, and so they fearlessly hop about not only the enclosure -of the garden, but the many tracks of the railroad just outside, showing -no timidity even when the locomotives rush by. Stranger still, wild -ducks gather in the river almost directly under the railroad bridge, and -do not always dive out of sight as the trains pass by, and I have never -seen them take wing, even when the whistle blew the quick, short, -penetrating danger signal. - -To come back to their nests: birds have other enemies than man to guard -against, and so are never in a hurry in the matter of determining where -to build. Time and again a location has been discovered to be unsuitable -after a nest has been commenced, and the structure abandoned. I have -observed this many times. Indeed, my own curiosity has led the birds to -move, they not quite approving my constant watching of what was going -on. I well remember seating myself once in a shady nook to eat my lunch, -and being almost attacked by a pair of black-and-white tree-creeping -warblers. Their actions were plainly a protest against my staying where -I was, and on looking about, I found that I had almost sat upon their -nest, which was then just completed, but contained no eggs. I visited -the spot the next day and found a single egg; but my coming was a -mistake, for the birds now believed I had sinister designs, and -abandoned their new-made home. - -The method of building, of course, varies as much as the patterns of -nests. Even when the same materials are used, they are differently -treated, and a nest of sticks only may in one case be merely thrown -together, as it were, while in another they are so carefully interlaced -that the structure is a basket, and holds together if held by the rim -only. Another, the same in general appearance, would immediately fall to -pieces if similarly treated. A reason for this is discoverable in some -cases, but not in all. If we examine a great many nests, the rule will -hold good, I think, that where they are very loosely put together, the -locality is such that no natural disturbing causes, as high winds, are -likely to bring disaster. Until I studied this point the occurrence of -exceedingly frail nests was ever a matter of surprise, for it is to be -remembered that the same species, as a cat-bird or cardinal red-bird, -does not build after a uniform fashion, but adapts its work to the spot -chosen for the nest. It would be very hazardous to say that a nest was -built by this or that bird, unless the builder was seen in possession. - -So difficult is it to watch a pair of birds while building, that the -method of their working is largely to be guessed at from the work -itself, but by means of a field-glass a good deal can be learned. It -would appear as if a great many twigs were brought for the foundation of -a nest, such as a cat-bird’s or song-sparrow’s, that were unsuitable. I -have occasionally seen a twig tossed aside with a flirt of the head very -suggestive of disappointment. The builders do not always carry with them -a distinct idea of what they want when hunting for material, and so -labor more than would be necessary if a little wiser. Very funny -disputes, too, often arise, and these are most frequent when wrens are -finishing their huge structures in a box or some corner of an -out-building. A feather, or a bit of thread, or a small rag will be -carried in by one bird and tossed out by the other with a deal of -scolding and “loud words” that is positively startling. But when the -framework of any ordinary open or cup-shaped nest is finally completed, -the lining is not so difficult a matter. Soft or yielding materials are -used that to a greater or less extent have a “felting property,” and by -the bird’s weight alone assume the shape desired. This is facilitated by -the bird in two ways: the builder sits down, as if the eggs were already -laid, and with its beak pushes the loose material between it and the -framework, and tucks odd bits into any too open crevices. While doing -this, it slowly moves around until it has described a complete circle. -This brings to light any defects in the outer structure, and the bird -can often be seen tugging away at some projecting end, or its mate, -outside of the nest, rearranging a twig here and there, while the other -bird—shall I say?—is giving directions. - -Surprise has often been expressed that the common chipping sparrow can -so neatly curl a long horse-hair into the lining of its little nest. It -cannot be explained, perhaps, but we have at least a clue to it. One end -of the hair is snugly tucked in among stouter materials, and then,—I ask -the question only,—as the bird coils it about the sides of the nest with -its beak, does it break or dent it, or is there some chemical effect -produced by the bird’s saliva? The hairs do not appear to be merely -dry-curled, for in that case they would unroll when taken from the nest, -and such as I have tried, when just placed in position, retained the -coiled condition when removed. But old hair, curled by long exposure to -the air and moisture, is often used, and this is far more tractable. -When we come to examine woven nests, such as the Baltimore oriole and -the red-eyed vireo, as well as some other small birds, build, there is -offered a great deal more to study, for how they accomplish what they -do, with their only tools their feet and beak, is not wholly known. That -the tropical tailor-bird should run a thread through a leaf and so bring -the edges together and make a conical-shaped bag, is not so very -strange. It is little more than the piercing of the leaf and then -putting the thread through the hole. This is ingenious but not -wonderful, because not difficult; but let us consider a Baltimore oriole -and his nest. The latter is often suspended from a very slender elm or -willow twig, and the bird has a hard time to hold on while at work. One -experienced old oriole has for years built in the elm near my door, and -occasionally I have caught a glimpse of him. I will not be positive, but -believe that his first move is to find a good stout string, and this he -ties to the twig. I use the word “tie” because I have found in many -cases a capitally-tied knot, but how the bird, or birds, could -accomplish this I cannot imagine. Both feet and beak, I suppose, are -brought into play, but how? To get some insight into the matter, I once -tied a very long string to the end of a thread that the oriole had -secured at one end and left dangling. This interference caused some -commotion, but the bird was not outwitted. It caught the long string by -its loose end and wrapped it over and over various twigs, and soon had a -curious open-work bag that served its purpose admirably. The lining of -soft, fluffy stuff’s was soon added. This brought up the question as to -whether the bird ever ties short pieces together and so makes a more -secure cable that gives strength to the finished nest. In examining -nests, I have seen such knots as might have been tied by the birds, but -there was no way to prove it. That they do wrap a string several times -about a twig and then tie it, just as a boy ties his fishing-line to a -pole, is certain. With my field-glass I have followed the bird far -enough to be sure of this. When at work, the bird, from necessity, is in -a reversed position,—that is, tail up and head down. This has an obvious -advantage, in that the builder can see what is going on beneath him, and -shows, too, how near the ground the nest will come when finished; but it -sometimes happens that he gets so absorbed in his work that a person can -approach quite near, but I never knew him to become entangled in the -loose ends that hang about him. - -The oriole at times offers us a wonderful example of ingenuity. It -occasionally happens that too slight a twig is selected, and when the -nest is finished, or, later, when the young are nearly grown, the -structure hangs down too low for safety or sways too violently when the -parent birds alight on it. This is a difficulty the bird has to contend -with, and he has been known to remedy it by attaching a cord to the -sustaining twigs and tying them to a higher limb of the tree, thus -securing the necessary stability. - -A more familiar evidence of the intelligence of birds is when the vireos -are disturbed by the presence of a cow-bird’s egg in their nest. To get -rid of it, they often build a new floor to the nest, and so leave the -offending egg to spoil. But there is displayed here an error of judgment -that I am surprised to find. The birds that take this trouble certainly -could throw the egg out, and, I should think, preserve their own eggs, -which invariably are left to decay when a new structure is reared above -the old. I believe even three-storied vireos’ nests have been found. - -There is one common swallow that is found well-nigh everywhere, which -burrows into the sand; and when we think of it, it seems strange that so -aerial a bird should build so gloomy an abode for the nesting season. -This bank swallow, as it is called, selects a suitable bluff, facing -water, and, with closed beak, turns round and round with its head to the -ground, thus boring a hole big enough to crawl into. It turns into a -gimlet for the time, and uses its beak as the point of the tool. This is -odd work for a bird that almost lives in the air; and then think, too, -of sitting in a dark cave, sometimes six feet long, until the eggs are -hatched. On the other hand, the barn swallow makes a nest where there is -plenty of light and air, and is a mason rather than a carpenter or -miner. The mud he uses is not mere earth and water, but is made more -adherent by a trace of secretion from the bird’s mouth; at least, my -experiments lead me to think so. To build such a nest would be slow work -did not the two birds work together and carry their little loads of -mortar with great rapidity. They waste no time, and use only good -materials, for I have noticed them, when building, go to a quite distant -spot for the mud when a pool was directly outside of the barn in which -they were building. To all appearance the nest is of sun-dried mud, but -the material has certainly undergone a kind of puddling first that makes -it more adherent, bit to bit, and the whole to the rafter or side of the -building. Again, these swallows have the knack of carrying a little -water on the feathers of their breasts, I think, and give the structure -a shower-like wetting from time to time. At last the structure “sets” -and is practically permanent. - -There are birds that build no nests, like the kill-deer plover and the -woodcock, and yet they exercise a faculty of equal value intellectually; -for to be able to locate a spot that will be in the least degree exposed -to danger is a power of no mean grade. The kill-deer will place its eggs -on sloping ground, but somehow the heaviest dashes of rain do not wash -out that particular spot. There are sand-pipers that lay their eggs on a -bit of dead grass, just out of reach of the highest tides. As we look at -such _nests_, we conclude that the birds trust a great deal to good -luck; but, as a matter of fact, the destruction of eggs when in no -nests, or next to none, is very small. Why, on the other hand, -woodpeckers should go to such an infinity of trouble to whittle a nest -in the firm tissue of a living tree, when a natural hollow would serve -as well, is a problem past finding out. I have even seen a woodpecker -make a new nest in a tree which already contained one in every respect -as good. - -Going back to the fields and thickets, it will be seen that birds, as a -rule, desire that their nests should be inconspicuous, and their efforts -are always largely in this direction in the construction. The foliage of -the tree or bush is considered, and when not directly concealed by this, -the nest is made to look marvellously like a natural production of the -vegetable world, as the beautiful nest of our wood pee-wee or the -humming-bird shows. These nests are then not merely the homes of young -birds, but are places of defence against a host of enemies. The parent -birds have no simple task set before them that can be gone through with -mechanically year after year. Every season new problems arise, if their -favorite haunts suffer change, and every year the birds prove equal to -their solution. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER FIFTH - - _CORN-STALK FIDDLES_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -It is a merit of our climate that at no time of the year are we, as -children, shut out from healthy out-door pleasure. There are shady nooks -along our creeks and rivers and delightful old mill-ponds wherein we may -bathe in midsummer, and there are acres of glassy ice over which to -skate in midwinter. Spring and autumn are too full of fun to -particularize, the average day being available for scores of methods -whereby to make life a treasure beyond compare, spending it, to the mind -of a boy, in that most rational way, having sport. I do not know why we -always played marbles at one time of the year and flew our kites at -another: this is for the folk-lore clubs to fathom. Suffice it, that -there has been for centuries a time for every out-door amusement as -fixed as the phases of the moon. So much for the sport common to all -boys. And now a word concerning an old-time musical instrument that may -be now quite out of date,—the corn-stalk fiddle. - -This very primitive musical instrument is associated with the dreamy -Indian-summer days of late November. Then it discoursed delicious music, -but at other times it would have been “out of tune and harsh.” Did the -Indians give the secret to the children of our colonial forefathers? It -would be a pleasing thought whenever the toy comes to mind, as the mere -suggestion is a pleasant fancy. - -The husking over, the corn-stalks carted and stored in a huge rick by -the barn-yard, the apples gathered, the winter wood cut, and then the -long quiet, with almost nothing to do. Such was the routine when I was a -boy, and if the uncertain, dreamy days would only come, there was sure -to be a short round of pleasure wherein the fiddle figured more -prominently than all else. - -It was no small part of the fun to see Billy make a fiddle; it was such -a curious combination of mummery and skill. Having whetted his keen, -old-fashioned Barlow knife on the toe of his boot, he would flourish it -above his head with a whoop as though he was looking for an enemy -instead of a corn-stalk. Finding one that was glossy and long enough -between the joints, he would press it gently between his lips, trying -the several sections, and then selecting the longest and most glossy -one. So much of the proceeding was for our benefit, as the cunning old -fellow well knew that it added to his importance in our eyes. - -What followed was skill. Having cut off the stalk above and below the -ring-like joints, he had now a convenient piece about eight or ten -inches in length. This he warmed by rubbing it violently with the palm -of his hand, and then placing the point of the knife as near the joint -as practicable, he drew it quickly down to the next joint or lower end. -It must be a straight incision, and Billy seldom failed to make it so. A -parallel one was then made, not more than one-sixteenth of an inch -distant. A space of twice this width was left, and two or three more -strings were made in the same manner. These were freed of the pith -adhering to their under sides, and held up by little wooden “bridges,” -one at each end. The bow was similarly fashioned, but was made of a more -slender section of corn-stalk and had but two strings. - -It was indeed surprising how available this crude production proved as a -musical instrument. Youth and the environment counted for a great deal, -of course, and my Quaker surroundings forbidding music, it was a sweeter -joy because a stolen one. - -I can picture days of forty years ago as distinctly as though a matter -of the present. My cousin and myself, with Black Billy, would often -steal away and carry with us one of the smaller barn doors. This we -would place in a sunny nook on the south side of the stalk-rick, and -while the fiddle was being made, would part with our jackets that we -might dance the better. Billy was soon ready, and with what a joyful -grin, rolling of his huge black eyes, and vigorous contortion of the -whole body would our faithful friend draw from the corn-stalk every note -of many a quaint old tune! And how we danced! For many a year after the -old door showed the nail-marks of our heavily-heeled shoes where we had -brought them down with a vigor that often roused the energy of old -Billy, until he, too, would stand up and execute a marvellous _pas -seul_. Then, tired out, we would rest in niches in the stalk-rick, and -Billy would play such familiar airs as had penetrated even into the -quiet of Quakerdom. It was no mere imitation of the music, but the thing -itself; and it would be an hour or more before the fiddle’s strings had -lost their tension, the silicious covering had worn away, and the sweet -sounds ceased. - -Almost the last of my November afternoons passed in this way had a -somewhat dramatic ending. The fiddle was one of more than ordinary -excellence. In the height of our fun I spied the brim of my -grandfather’s hat extending an inch or two around the corner. I gave no -sign, but danced more vigorously than ever, and as the music and dancing -became more fast and furious the crown of his stiff hat appeared, and -then my grandfather’s face. His countenance was a study. Whether to give -the alarm and run or to remain was the decision of an instant. I gave no -sign, but kept one eye on him. “Faster!” I cried to Billy, and, to my -complete astonishment, the hat moved rapidly up and down. Grandfather -was keeping time! “Faster!” I cried again, and the music was now a -shrieking medley, and the broad-brimmed hat vibrated wonderfully fast. -It was too much. I gave a wild yell and darted off. Circling the barn -and stalk-rick, I entered the front yard with a flushed but innocent -face, and met grandpa. He, too, had an innocent, far-away look, but his -hat was resting on the back of his head and his checks were streaming -with perspiration, and, best of all, he did not seem to know it. - -“Grandpa,” I asked at the supper-table that evening, “does thee know why -it is that savage races are so given to dancing?” - -"Charles," he replied, gravely, and nothing more was said. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER SIXTH - - _THE OLD KITCHEN DOOR_ - - -The white porch, with its high roof and two severely plain pillars to -support it; the heavy door, with its ponderous knocker; the straggling -sweetbrier at one side; the forlorn yellow rose between the parlor -windows; the grass that was too cold to welcome a dandelion; the low box -hedge, and one huge box bush that never sheltered a bird’s nest; all -these were in front to solemnly greet that terror of my early -days,—company. - -To me these front-door features all meant, and still mean, restraint; -but how different the world that lingered about the old farm-house -kitchen door! There was no cold formality there, but freedom,—the -healthy freedom of old clothes, an old hat; ay, even the luxury of an -open-throated shirt was allowed. - -After a tramp over the meadows, after a day’s fishing, after the round -of the rabbit-traps in winter, what joy to enter the kitchen door and -breathe in the delectable odor of hot gingerbread! There were appetites -in those days. - -I do not understand the mechanism of a modern kitchen: it looks to me -like a small machine-shop; but the old farm kitchen was a simple affair, -and the intricacies and mystery lay wholly in the dishes evolved. It is -said of my grandmother that a whiff of her sponge-cake brought the -humming-birds about. I do know there was a crackly crust upon it which -it is useless now to try to imitate. - -But the door itself—we have none such now. It was a double door in two -ways. It was made of narrow strips of oak, oblique on one side and -straight on the other, and so studded with nails that the whole affair -was almost half metal. It was cut in two, having an upper and a lower -section. The huge wooden latch was hard and smooth as ivory. At night -the door was fastened by a hickory bar, which, when I grew strong enough -to lift it, was my favorite hobby-horse. - -The heavy oak sill was worn in the middle until its upper surface was -beautifully curved, and to keep the rain out, when the wind was south, a -canvas sand-bag was rolled against it. A stormy-day amusement was to -pull this away on the sly, and sail tiny paper boats in the puddle that -soon formed on the kitchen floor. There was mischief in those days. - -Kitchens and food are of course inseparably connected, and what -hunting-ground for boys equal to the closets where the cakes were kept? -I do not know that the matter was ever openly discussed, but as I look -back it seems as if it was an understood thing that, when our cunning -succeeded in outwitting auntie, we could help ourselves to jumbles. Once -I became a hero in this line of discovery, and we had a picnic behind -the lilacs; but, alas! only too soon we were pleading for essence of -peppermint. Over-eating is possible, even in our teens. - -Recent raids in modern kitchen precincts are never successful. Of late I -always put my hand in the wrong crock, and find pickles where I sought -preserves. I never fail, now, to take a slice of a reserved cake, or to -quarter the pie intended for the next meal. Age brings no experience in -such matters. It is a case where we advance backward. - -Of the almost endless phases of life centring about the kitchen door -there is one which stands out so prominently that it is hard to realize -the older actor is now dead and that of the young on-lookers few are -left. Soon after the dinner-horn was sounded the farm hands gathered at -the pump, which stood just outside the door, and then in solemn -procession filed into the kitchen for the noonday meal. All this was -prosy enough, but the hour’s nooning after it,—then there was fun -indeed. - -Scipio—“Zip,” for short—was not ill-natured, but then who loves too much -teasing? An old chestnut burr in the grass where he was apt to lie had -made him suspicious of me, and I had to be extra cautious. Once I nearly -overstepped the mark. Zip had his own place for a quiet nap, and, when -stretched upon the grass under the big linden, preferred not to be -disturbed. Now it occurred to me to be very funny. I whittled a cork to -the shape of a spider, added monstrous legs, and with glue fastened a -dense coating of chicken-down over all. - -It was a fearful spider. - -I suspended the sham insect from a limb of the tree so that it would -hang directly over Zip’s face as he lay on the ground, and by a black -thread that could not be seen I could draw it up or let it down at -pleasure. It was well out of sight when Zip fell asleep, and then I -slowly lowered the monster until it tickled his nose. It was promptly -brushed aside. This was repeated several times, and then the old man -awoke. The huge spider was just touching his nose, and one glance was -enough. With a bound and a yell he was up and off, in his headlong -flight overturning the thoughtless cause of his terror. I was the more -injured of the two, but never dared in after-years to ask Zip if he was -afraid of spiders. - -And all these years the front door never changed. It may have been -opened daily for aught I know, but I can remember nothing of its -history. - -Stay! As befitting such an occurrence, it was open once, as I remember, -when there was a wedding at the house; but of that wedding I recall only -the preparations in the kitchen for the feast that followed; and, alas! -it has been opened again and again for funerals. - -Why, indeed, should the front door be remembered? It added no sunshine -to the child’s short summer; but around the corner, whether dreary -winter’s storm or the fiercest heat of August fell upon it, the kitchen -door was the entrance to a veritable elysium. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER SEVENTH - - _UP THE CREEK_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -There is greater merit in the little word “up” than in “down.” If, when -in a place new to me, I am asked to go “up the creek,” my heart leaps, -but there is less enthusiasm when it is suggested to go down the stream. -One seems to mean going into the country, the other into the town. All -this is illogical, of course, but what of that? The facts of a case like -this have not the value of my idle fancies. After all, there is a -peculiar merit in going up-stream. It is something to be going deeper -and deeper into the heart of the country. It is akin to getting at the -foundations of things. - -In the case of small inland streams, generally, the mouth is a -commonplace affair. The features that charm shrink from the fateful -spot, and we are put in a condition of anticipation at the start which, -happily, proves one of abundant realization at the finish. - -A certain midsummer Saturday was not an ideal one for an outing, but -with most excellent company I ventured up the creek. It was my friend’s -suggestion, so I was free from responsibility. Having promised nothing, -I could in no wise be justly held accountable. Vain thought! Directly I -suffered in their estimation because, at mere beck and nod, polliwogs -were not forthcoming and fishes refused to swim into my hand. What -strange things we fancy of our neighbors! Because I love the wild life -about me, one young friend thought me a magician who could command the -whole creek’s fauna by mere word of mouth. It proved an empty day in one -respect, animal life scarcely showing itself. To offer explanations was -of no avail, and one of the little company recast her opinions. Perhaps -she even entertains some doubt as to my having ever seen a bird or fish -or the coveted polliwog. - -It is one thing to be able to give the name and touch upon the habits of -some captured creature, and quite another to command its immediate -presence when we enter its haunts. This always should, and probably -never will, be remembered. - -But what of the creek, the one-time Big-Bird Creek of the Delaware -Indians? With ill-timed strokes we pulled our languid oars, and passed -many a tree, jutting meadow, or abandoned wharf worthy of more than a -moment’s contemplation. But, lured by the treasure still beyond our -reach, we went on and on, until the trickling waters of a hillside -spring proved too much for us, and, turning our prow landward, we -stopped to rest. - -Among old trees that afforded grateful shade, a spring that bubbled from -an aged chestnut’s wrinkled roots, a bit of babbling brook that too soon -reached the creek and was lost, and, beyond all, wide-spreading meadows, -boundless from our point of view—what more need one ask? To our credit, -be it said, we were satisfied, except, perhaps, that here, as all along -our course, polliwogs were perverse. Birds, however, considerately came -and went, and even the shy cuckoo deigned to reply when we imitated his -dolorous clucking. A cardinal grosbeak, too, drew near and whistled a -welcome, and once eyed us with much interest as we sat lunching on the -grass. What did he think of us? Eating, with him, is so different a -matter, and perhaps he could give us a few useful hints. The trite -remark, “Fingers came before forks,” has a significance in the woods, if -not in the town. While eating we listened, and I heard the voices of -nine different birds. Some merely chirped in passing, it is true, but -the marsh-wrens in the cat-tail thicket just across the creek were not -silent for a moment. Here in the valley of the Delaware, as I recently -found them on the shores of Chesapeake Bay, the wrens are quite -nocturnal, and I would have been glad to have heard them sing in the -moonlight again; for our enthusiasm would have been strengthened by a -few such glimpses of the night side of Nature. - -No bird is so welcome to a mid-day camp as the white-eyed vireo, and we -were fortunate in having one with us while we tarried at the spring. Not -even ninety degrees in the shade has any effect upon him, and this -unflagging energy reacts upon the listener. We could at least be so far -alive as to give him our attention. Mid-day heat, however, does affect -many a song-bird, and now that nesting is well-nigh over, the open woods -are deserted for hidden cool retreats, where the songster takes its -ease, as we, far from town, are taking ours. There is much in common -between birds and men. - -How, as we lingered over our glasses, counting the lemon-seeds embedded -in sugar, we would have enjoyed a wood-thrush’s splendid song or a -rose-breasted grosbeak’s matchless melody! but the _to-whee_ of the -pipilo scratching among dead leaves, the plaint of an inquisitive -cat-bird threading the briers, the whir of a humming-bird vainly seeking -flowers,—these did not pass for nothing; and yet there was comparative -silence that suggested a sleeping rather than a wakeful, active world. - -Here let me give him who loves an outing a useful hint: be not so -anxious for what may be that you overlook that which is spread before -you. More than once to-day our discussion of the “silence” of a -midsummer noontide drowned the voices of singing-birds near by. - -How often it has been intimated to us that "two’s company and three’s a -crowd"! but to really see and hear what transpires in the haunts of wild -life, _one_ is company and _two’s_ a crowd. We cannot heed Nature and -fellow-man at the same moment; and as to the comparative value of their -communications, each must judge for himself. - -Certainly the human voice is a sound which animals are slow to -appreciate. How often have I stood in silence before birds and small -animals and they have shown no fear! A movement of my arms would put -them on guard, perhaps; but a word spoken, and away they sped. Not a -bird, I have noticed, is startled by the bellow of a bull or the neigh -of a horse, and yet my own voice filled them with fear. Even snakes that -knew me well and paid no attention to my movements were startled at -words loudly spoken. It is a bit humiliating to think that in the -estimation of many a wild animal our bark is worse than our bite. - -A midsummer noontide has surely some merit, and when I failed to find -fish, frog, or salamander for my young friend, it became necessary to -point to some feature of the spot that made it worth a visit. To my -discomfiture, I could find nothing. Trees have been talked of overmuch, -and there were no wild flowers. The August bloom gave, as yet, only a -hint of what was coming. I had hit upon a most unlucky interim during -which no man should go upon a picnic. In despair and empty-handed, we -took to our boat and started up the creek. It was a fortunate move, for -straightway the waters offered that which I had vainly sought for on -shore. Here were flowers in abundance. The pickerel-weed was in bloom, -the dull-yellow blossoms of the spatterdock dotted the muddy shores, -bind-weed here and there offered a single flower as we passed by, and -never was golden-dodder more luxuriant. Still, it is always a little -disappointing when Flora has the world to herself, and while we were -afloat it was left to a few crows and a single heron to prove that she -had not quite undisputed sway. - -Up the creek with many a turn and twist, and now on a grassy knoll we -land again, where a wonderful spring pours a great volume of sparkling -water into the creek. Here at last we have an object lesson that should -bear fruit when we recall the day. Not a cupful of this clear cold water -could we catch but contained a few grains of sand, and for so many -centuries has this carrying of sand grains been in progress that now a -great ridge has choked the channel where once rode ships at anchor. An -obscure back-country creek now, but less than two centuries ago the -scene of busy industry. Perhaps no one is now living who saw the last -sail that whitened the landscape. Pages of old ledgers, a bit of diary, -and old deeds tell us something of the place; but the grassy knoll -itself gives no hint of the fact that upon it once stood a warehouse. -Yet a busy place it was in early colonial times, and now utterly -neglected. - -It is difficult to realize how very unsubstantial is much of man’s work. -As we sat upon the grassy slope, watching the outgoing tide as it -rippled and broke in a long line of sparkling bubbles, I rebuilt, for -the moment, the projecting wharf, of which but a single log remains, and -had the quaint shallops of pre-Revolutionary time riding at anchor. -There were heard, in fact, the cry of a heron and the wild scream of a -hawk; but these, in fancy, were the hum of human voices and the tramp of -busy feet. - -[Illustration: _The Old Drawbridge, Crosswick’s Creek_] - -The scattered stones that just peeped above the grass were not chance -bowlders rolled from the hill near by, but the door-step and foundation -of the one-time warehouse. The days of buying, selling, and getting gain -came back, in fancy, and I was more the sturdy colonist than the -effeminate descendant. But has the present no merit? We had the summer -breeze that came freighted with the odors gathered from the forest and -the stream, and there were thrushes rejoicing in our hearing that the -hill-sides were again as Nature made them. It meant much to us to tarry -in the shade of venerable trees spared by the merchants that once -collected here, whose names are now utterly forgotten. Stay! there are -two reminders of ancient glory. A beech that overhangs the brook has its -bark well scarred, and, now beyond decipherment, there are initials of -many prominent naturalists of Philadelphia. A few rods up-stream is -another beech that has remained unchanged. On it can be seen the -initials T. A. C., 1819; those of the celebrated paleontologist, Conrad, -born near here in 1803. - -The shadows lengthen; the cooler hours of eventide draw on; the languid -thrushes are again abroad; music fills the air. We are homeward bound -and hurrying down-stream. Our minds are not so receptive as when we -started. How shrunken to a few rods is every mile! Trees, flowers, and -birds are scarcely heeded; but the good gathered as we went up the creek -we bring away, and, once again in the dusty village street, we realize -that we have but to turn our back upon the town to find the world a -picture. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER EIGHTH - - _A WINTER-NIGHT’S - OUTING_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -Not long since I was asked—and not for the first time—if I could date -the beginning of my taste for natural history pursuits or give any -incident that appeared to mark a turning-point in my career. - -It did not seem possible to do this, on first consideration; but a -recent living over of days gone by recalled an incident which happened -before I was eleven years old, and, as it was almost my first regular -outing that smacked of adventure, it is probable that it impressed me -more forcibly than any earlier or, indeed, later events. - -Heavy and long-continued rains had resulted in a freshet, and then three -bitter cold days had converted a wide reach of meadows into a frozen -lake. Happier conditions could not have occurred in the small boy’s -estimation, and, with boundless anticipation, we went skating. - -After smooth ice, the foremost requirement is abundant room, and this we -had. There was more than a square mile for each of us. The day had been -perfect and the approaching night was such as Lowell so aptly describes, -“all silence and all glisten.” - -As the sun was setting we started a roaring fire in a sheltered nook, -and securely fastening our skates without getting at all chilled, -started off. Then the fun commenced. We often wandered more than a mile -away, and it was not until the fire was reduced to a bed of glowing -coals that we returned to our starting-point. - -Here a great surprise awaited us. The heat had drawn from the wooded -hill-side near by many a meadow-mouse that, moved by the warmth or by -curiosity, ventured as near as it dared. These mice were equally -surprised at seeing us, and scampered off, but, it seemed to me, with -some show of reluctance, as if a chance to warm themselves so thoroughly -should not be missed. - -We freshened the fire a little and fell back a few paces, but stood near -enough to see if the mice would return. This they did in a few minutes, -and, to our unbounded surprise and amusement, more than one sat up on -its haunches like a squirrel. They seemed to be so many diminutive human -beings about a camp-fire. - -It was a sight to give rise to a pretty fairy tale, and possibly our -Indians built up theirs on just such incidents. These mice were, to all -appearances, there to enjoy the warmth. There was little running to and -fro, no squeaking, not a trace of unusual excitement, and, although it -was so cold, we agreed to wait as long as the mice saw fit to stay. - -This resolution, however, could not hold. We were getting chilled, and -so had to draw near. As we did this, there was a faint squeaking which -all noticed, and we concluded that sentinels had been placed to warn the -congregated mice of our approach. - -The spirit of adventure was now upon us, and our skates were but the -means to other ends than mere sport. What, we thought, of the gloomy -nooks and corners where thickets stood well above the ice? We had -shunned these heretofore, but without open admission that we had any -fear concerning them. Then, too, the gloomy gullies in the hill-side -came to mind. Should we skate into such darkness and startle the wild -life there? - -The suggestion was made, and not one dared say he was afraid. - -We thought of the fun in chasing a coon or skunk over the ice, and -bravely we ventured, feeling our way where we knew the ice was thin and -rough. - -At a bend in the little brook, where a large cedar made the spot more -dark and forbidding, we paused a moment, not knowing just how to -proceed. - -The next minute we had no time for thought. A loud scream held us almost -spellbound, and then, with one dash, we sought the open meadows. - -Once there, we breathed a little freer. We could see the fast-fading -light of the fire, and at last could flee in a known direction if -pursued. Should we hurry home? We debated this for some time, but were -more fearful of being laughed at than of facing any real danger, and -therefore concluded, with proper caution, to return. - -Keeping close together, we entered the ravine again, stopped near the -entrance and kindled a fire, and then, by its light, proceeded farther. -It was a familiar spot, but not without strange features as we now saw -it. - -Again we were startled by the same wild cry, but for a moment only. A -barn owl, I think it was, sailed by, glaring at us, as we imagined, and -sought the open meadows. - -We turned and followed, though why, it would be hard to say. The owl -flew slowly and we skated furiously, trying to keep it directly -overhead. Now we were brave even to foolhardiness, and sped away over -the ice, indifferent to the direction taken. To this day I have credited -that owl with a keen sense of humor. - -On we went, over the meadows to where the swift but shallow creek flowed -by, and then, when too late, we knew where we were. The ice bent beneath -us, then cracked, and in an instant we were through it, our feet well in -the mud and the water about our necks. Just how we got out I never knew, -but we did, and the one dry match among us was a veritable treasure. It -did not go out at the critical moment, but started ablaze the few twigs -we hastily gathered, and so saved us from freezing. As we dried our -clothes and warmed our benumbed bodies, I, for one, vowed never again to -chase an owl on skates, but to go at it more soberly. From that eventful -night the country has been attractive by reason of its wild life. It was -there I became—if indeed I ever have become—a naturalist. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER NINTH - - _WILD LIFE IN WATER_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -“The antelope has less reason to fear the lion than has the minnow to -dread the pike. We think of timid antelopes and roaring lions, but the -former has good use of its limbs, and so a fighting chance for its life; -but the minnows have little advantage in the struggle for existence, and -none at all when the predatory fishes are in pursuit of them.” - -This was written in a note-book more than thirty years ago, and I let it -stand as evidence of how easy it is to be in error in matters of natural -history. - -When I went to school there was but one teacher of the five that knew -anything about such matters, and he had the old-time views. Then a fish -was a mere machine so far as intelligence was concerned. We were told of -the cunning of foxes and the instinct of ants and bees, but never a word -of fishes. - -The truth is, I might very properly speak of wild “wit” in the water -instead of “life,” for there can be not the shadow of a doubt but that -many of our fishes are really cunning. We need but watch them carefully -to be readily convinced of this. How else could they escape danger? - -The pretty peacock minnows throng the grassy beach at high tide, playing -with their fellows in water just deep enough to cover them, and are, -when here, very tame and careless. They even get stranded upon the airy -side of floating leaves, and enjoy the excitement. They realize, it -would seem, that where they are no pike can rush down upon them, no -snake work its way unseen among them, no turtle crawl into their -playground; but as the tide goes out and these minnows are forced nearer -to the river’s channel, they lose their carelessness and are suspicious -of all about them. - -To call this instinctive fear and result of heredity sounds well; but -the naturalist is brought nearer to the wild life about him when he -credits them simply with common sense. The charm of watching such “small -deer” vanishes if we lean too much on the learned and scientific -solutions of the comparative psychologist, and possibly, too, we wander -further from the truth. All I positively know is, that when danger -really exists the minnows are aware of it; when it is absent they throw -off the burden of this care, and life for a few hours is a matter of -pure enjoyment. - -Brief mention should be made of the protective character of the coloring -of certain fishes. If such are fortunate enough to be protectively -colored, there is little to be said; but are they conscious of this? -Does a fish that is green or mottled green and gray keep closely to the -weeds, knowing that it is safer there than when in open water or where -the bottom is covered with white sand and pebbles? This may be a rather -startling question, but there is warrant for the asking. Float half a -day over the shallows of any broad pond or stream, study with care and -without preconception the fishes where they live, and you will ask -yourself not only this question, but many a stranger one. If fish are -fools, how is it that the angler has so generally to tax his ingenuity -to outwit them? How closely Nature must be copied to deceive a trout! - -Having said so much of small fishes, what now of the larger ones that -prey upon them? A pike, for instance? Probably many more people have -studied how to catch a pike than have considered it scientifically. It -is tiresome, perhaps, but if a student of natural history really desires -to know what a fish actually is, he must watch it for hours, being -himself unseen. - -At one time there were several large pike in my lotus pond. Under the -huge floating leaves of this splendid plant they took refuge, and it was -difficult to catch even a glimpse of them. At the same time the schools -of minnows seemed to enjoy the sunlight and sported in the open water. -More than once, however, I saw a pike rush out from its cover, and -finally learned that it systematically lay in wait for the minnows; and -I believe I am justified in adding that the minnows knew that danger -lurked under the lotus leaves. - -The situation was not so hap-hazard a one as might appear at first -glance, and hours of patient watching convinced me that there was a -decided exercising of ingenuity on the part of both the pike and the -minnows; the former ever on the lookout for a victim, the latter -watchful of an ever-present danger. Day long it was a tragedy where -brute force counted for little and cunning for a great deal. - -Another very common fish in my pond was likewise very suggestive in -connection with the subject of animal intelligence. I refer to the -common “sunny,” or “pumpkin-seed.” A shallow sand-nest had been scooped -near shore and the precious eggs deposited. A school of silvery-finned -minnows had discovered them, and the parent fish was severely taxed in -her efforts to protect them. - -So long as this school of minnows remained together, the sunfish, by -fierce rushes, kept them back; but soon the former—was it accident or -design?—divided their forces, and as the parent fish darted at one -assaulting party, the other behind it made a successful raid upon the -nest. This continued for some time, and the sunfish was getting quite -weary, when, as if a sudden thought struck it, its tactics changed, and -it swam round and round in a circle and sent a shower of sand out into -the space beyond the nest. This effectually dazed the minnows. - -Little incidents like this are forever occurring and effectually set -aside the once prevalent idea that fish are mere living machines. Look a -pike in the eye and you will detect something very different from mere -instinctive timidity. - -But fish are not the only creatures that live in the water; there are -one snake and several species of turtles, and frogs, mollusks, and -insects innumerable. These are too apt to be associated with the land, -and, except the two latter forms, are usually thought of as taking to -the water as a place of refuge, but really living in the open air. This -is a great mistake. There is a lively world beneath the surface of the -water, and the tragedy of life is played to the very end, with here and -there a pretty comedy that wards off the blues when we look too long and -see nothing but the destruction of one creature that another may live. - -Here is an example of cunning or wit in a water-snake. A friend of mine -was recently sitting on the bank of a little brook, when his attention -was called to a commotion almost at his feet. Looking down, he saw a -snake holding its head above the water, and in its mouth struggled a -small sunfish. Now, what was the snake’s purpose? It knew very well that -the fish would drown in the air, and not until it was dead could it be -swallowed with that deliberation a snake loves. The creature was cunning -enough to kill by easy means prey that would otherwise be difficult to -overcome, for while crosswise in the snake’s mouth it could not be -swallowed, and if put down for an instant the chances of its recapture -would be slight. - -To suppose that a turtle, as you watch it crawling over the mud, has any -sense of humor in its horny head seems absurd; yet naturalists have -recorded their being seen at play, and certainly they can readily be -tamed to a remarkable degree. Their intelligence, however, shows -prominently only in the degree of cunning exhibited when they are in -search of food. The huge snapper “lies in wait,” and truly this is a -most suggestive and comprehensive phrase. I believe, too, that this -fierce turtle buries surplus food, and so gives further evidence of -intellectual activity. - -To realize what wild life in the water really is it must be observed -where Nature has placed it. It is perhaps not so much set forth by -exceptional incidents that the student happens to witness as by that -general appearance of common sense which is so unmistakably stamped upon -even the most commonplace movements. Writers upon animal intelligence do -not need to be constantly on the lookout for special exhibitions of -cunning in order to substantiate the claims they make in favor of life’s -lower forms. It is plainly enough to be seen if we will but patiently -watch whensoever these creatures come and wheresoever they go and the -manner of their going and coming. - -Do not be so intent upon watching for the marvellous that ordinary -incidents are not seen. In studying wild life everywhere, and perhaps -more particularly in the water, to be rightly informed we must see the -average individual amid commonplace surroundings. Doing this, we are not -misinformed nor led to form too high an opinion. It is as in the study -of humanity. We must not familiarize ourselves with the mountebank, but -with man. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER TENTH - - _AN OLD-FASHIONED - GARDEN_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -The world at large is a most intricate machine, and parts viewed -separately give no hint of their importance to what appear quite -independent objects. Man may dissociate without destroying, but, when he -does so, his constant attention must then take the place of the acts -that Nature designed other conditions of life should perform. The -isolated plant, for instance, is destroyed by insects unless we protect -it by a glass covering or a poison-bath: Nature gave it to the birds to -protect the plant, and in so doing find food for themselves. This law of -interdependence is made very plain in the case of a modern garden or the -trim lawns of a large city, and in less degree applies to towns and -villages. The caterpillar nuisance that requires the collaring of -shade-trees with cotton-wool to protect their foliage illustrates this; -and what an example is a modern garden filled to overflowing with exotic -plants! An all-important feature is wanting,—birds; for, except English -sparrows, we have none, and these are worse than useless. - -It was not always so, and the cause of the deplorable change is not hard -to find. Whenever we chance, in our wanderings, to come upon some -long-neglected corner of colonial times, there we will find the bloom -and birds together. I have said “neglected;” not quite that, for there -was bloom, and the birds are excellent gardeners. - -Let me particularize. My garden is a commonplace affair, with the single -innovation of a tub sunk in the ground to accommodate a lotus,—so -commonplace, indeed, that no passer-by would notice it; and yet during a -single summer afternoon I have seen within its boundaries fifteen -species of birds. At that hottest hour of the midsummer day, two P.M., -while looking at the huge pink blossoms of the classic lotus, my -attention was called to a quick movement on the ground, as if a rat ran -by. It proved to be an oven-bird, that curious combination of thrush and -sand-piper, and yet neither, but a true warbler. It peered into every -nook and corner of the shrubbery, poised on the edge of the sunken -lotus-tub, caught a wriggling worm that came to the surface of the -water, then teetered along the fence and was gone. Soon it returned, and -came and went until dark, as much at home as ever in the deep recesses -of unfrequented woods. As the sun went down, the bird sang once with all -the spring-tide ardor, and brought swiftly back to me many a long -summer’s day ramble in the country. It is something to be miles away -from home while sitting on your own door-step. - -Twice a song-sparrow came, bathed in the lotus-tub, and, when not -foraging in the weedy corners, sang its old-fashioned song, now so -seldom heard within town limits. The bird gave me two valuable hints as -to garden management. Water is a necessity to birds as well as to any -other form of life, and shelter is something more than a mere -attraction. Was it not because the birds happened to be provided with -them to-day that I had, as I have had the summer long, more birds than -my neighbors? - -How seldom do we see the coral honeysuckle, and how generally the -trumpet-creeper has given place to exotic vines of far more striking -bloom, but, as will appear, of less utility! If the old-time vines that -I have mentioned bore less showy flowers, they had at least the merit of -attracting humming-birds, that so grandly rounded out our complement of -summer birds. These feathered fairies are not difficult to see, even -though so small, and, if so inclined, we can always study them to great -advantage. They become quite tame, and in the old-fashioned gardens were -always a prominent feature by reason of their numbers. They are not -forever on the wing, and when preening their feathers let the sunshine -fall upon them, and we have emeralds and rubies that cost nothing, but -are none the less valuable because of this. In changing the botanical -features of our yards we have had but one thought, gorgeous flowers; but -was it wise to give no heed to the loss of birds as the result? I fancy -there are many who would turn with delight from formal clusters of -unfamiliar shrubs, however showy, to a gooseberry hedge or a lilac -thicket with song-sparrows and a cat-bird hidden in its shade. We have -been unwise in this too radical change. We have abolished bird-music in -our eagerness for color, gaining a little, but losing more. We have paid -too clear, not for a whistle, but for its loss. But it is not too late. -Carry a little of the home forest to our yards, and birds will follow -it. And let me here wander to an allied matter, that of the -recently-established Arbor Day. What I have just said recalls it. - -To merely transplant a tree, move it from one spot to another, where -perhaps it is less likely to remain for any length of time than where it -previously stood, is, it seems to me, the very acme of folly. The -chances are many that the soil is less suitable, and so growth will be -retarded, and the world is therefore not one whit the better off. There -is far too much tree-planting of this kind on Arbor Day. In many an -instance a plot of ground has been replanted year after year. I fancy we -will have to reach more nearly to the stage of tree appreciation before -Arbor Day will be a pre-eminent success. Can we not, indeed, accommodate -ourselves a little more to the trees growing where Nature planted them? -I know a village well, where the houses are placed to accommodate the -trees that stood there when the spot was a wilderness. The main street -is a little crooked, but what a noble street it is! I recall, as I write -these lines, many a Friends’ meeting-house, and one country school, -where splendid oaks are standing near by, and to those who gather daily -or weekly here, whether children or grown people, the trees are no less -clear than the buildings beside them. The wanderer who revisits the -scenes of his childhood looks first at the trees and then at the houses. -Tree-worship, we are told, was once very prevalent, and it is not to be -regretted that in a modified form it still remains with us. - -As a practical matter, let me here throw out the suggestion that he will -be doing most excellent work who saves a tree each year. This is a -celebration that needs no special day set forth by legislative -enactment. How often I have heard farmers remark, "It was a mistake to -cut those trees down"! Of course it was. In nine cases out of ten the -value of the trees felled proves less than was expected, and quickly -follows the realization of the fact that when standing their full value -was not appreciated. Think of cutting down trees that stand singly or in -little groups in the middle of fields because it is a trouble to plant -around them, or for the reason that they shade the crops too much! What -of the crop of comfort such trees yield to both man and beast when these -fields are pastures? “But there is no money in shade-trees.” I cannot -repress my disgust when I hear this, and I have heard it often. Is there -genuine manhood in those who feel this way towards the one great -ornament of our landscape? - -It is not—more’s the pity—within the power of every one to plant a tree, -but those who cannot need not stand idly by on Arbor Day. Here is an -instance where half a loaf is better than no bread. Many a one can plant -a shrub. How often there is an unsightly corner, even in the smallest -enclosure, where a tall tree would be a serious obstruction, whereon can -be grown a thrifty bush, one that will be a constant source of pleasure -because of its symmetry and bright foliage, and for a time doubly -attractive because of its splendid blossoming! We know too little of the -many beautiful flowering shrubs that are scattered through every -woodland, which are greatly improved by a little care in cultivation, -and which will bear transplanting. We overlook them often, when seen -growing in the forest, because they are small, irregular, and often -sparse of bloom. But remember, in the woods there is a fierce struggle -for existence, and when this is overcome the full beauty of the shrub’s -stature becomes an accomplished fact. - -Here is a short list of common shrubs, every one of which is hardy, -beautiful in itself, and can be had without other cost or labor than a -walk in the country, for I do not suppose any land-owner would refuse a -“weed,” as they generally call these humble plants. The spicewood -(_Lindera benzoin_), which bears bright golden flowers before the leaves -appear; the shad-bush (_Amelanchier canadensis_), with a wealth of snowy -blossoms, which are increased in number and size by a little attention, -as judicious trimming; and the “bush” of the wild-wood can be made to -grow to a beautiful miniature tree. The well-known pinxter flower -(_Azalea nudicaule_) is improved by cultivation, and can be made to grow -“stocky” and thick-set, instead of scragged, as we usually find it. Its -bright pink blossoms make a grand showing in May. There is a little wild -plum (_Prunus spinosa_) which only asks to be given a chance and then -will rival the famous deutzias in profusion of bloom, and afterwards -remains a sturdy tree-like shrub, with dark-green foliage that is always -attractive. This, too, blooms before the foliage is developed, and hints -of spring as surely as the robin’s song. A larger but no less handsome -bush is the white flowering thorn (_Cratægus crus-galli_), and there are -wild spireas that should not be overlooked, and two white flowering -shrubs that delight all who see them in bloom, the deer-berry -(_Vaccinium stamineum_), and the “false-teeth” (_Leucothoe racemosa_). -All these are spring flowers. And now a word about an August bloomer, -the sweet pepper-bush (_Clethra alnifolia_). This is easily grown and is -a charming plant. - -It happens, too, that a place can be found for a hardy climber, and as -beautiful as the coral honeysuckles of our grandmother’s days is the -climbing bittersweet (_Celastrus scandens_). The plant itself is -attractive. Its vigorous growth soon covers the support provided for it, -and in autumn and throughout the winter its golden and crimson fruit -hangs in thick-set clusters upon every branch. - -Considering how frequently near the house there are unsightly objects, -and how depressing it is to be forever looking upon ugliness, it is -strange that the abundant means for beautifying waste places are so -persistently neglected. With one or more of the plants I have named, an -eyesore may be changed to a source of pleasure, and it was Beecher, I -think, who said, “A piece of color is as useful as a piece of bread.” He -never spoke more truly. - -And what of the old-time arbors, with the straggling grape-vine, and -perhaps a rude wren-box perched at the entrance? Is there better shade -than the grape-vine offers, a sweeter odor than its bloom affords, or -more charming music than the song of the restless house-wren? Certainly -there have been no improvements upon these features of the old-time -garden: yet how seldom do we see them now! We must travel far, too, to -find a martin-box. As a matter of fact, the bluebird, wren, and martin -might, if we chose, be restored to the very hearts of our largest towns. -People have no more terror for them than for the English sparrow, and -they can all hold out against these piratical aliens, if we would -consider their few and simple needs. The wrens need but nesting-boxes -with an entrance through which the shoulders of a sparrow cannot pass; -and the bluebirds and martins require only that their houses be closed -during the winter and very early spring, or until they have returned -from their winter-quarters. This is easily done, and when the birds are -ready to occupy the accommodations provided for them they will take -possession and successfully hold the forts against all intruders. This -is not a fancy merely, suggested as the basis of experimentation, but is -the result of the experience of several people in widely-separated -localities. I vividly recall visiting at a house in a large town, where -purple martins for more than fifty years had occupied boxes placed upon -the eaves of a one-story kitchen. - -While stress is laid upon the importance of regaining the presence in -town of these birds, it must not be supposed that they are all that are -available. There are scores of wild birds, known only to the -ornithologist, that can be “cultivated” as readily as the wild shrubbery -that under startling names figures in many a florist’s catalogue. Give -them a foothold, and they will come to stay. Orioles, thrushes, vireos, -fly-catchers, are not unreasonably afraid of man, and would quickly -acquire confidence if they were warranted in so doing. How long would a -scarlet tanager or a cardinal grosbeak remain unmolested if it appeared -in any city street? Here is the whole matter in a nutshell: the birds -are not averse to coming, but the people will not let them. This is the -more strange, when we remember that hundreds of dollars were spent to -accommodate the pestiferous imported sparrow, that is and always must be -a positive curse. Hundreds for sparrows, and not one cent for a -bluebird! While the mischief can never be undone, it can be held in -check, if we will but take the trouble, and this is a mere matter of -town-garden rearrangement; and why, indeed, not treat our ears to music -as well as our eyes to color and our palates to sweetness? Plant here -and there a bush that will yield you a crop of birds. That this may not -be thought merely a whim of my own, let me quote from the weather record -of Dr. John Conrad, who for forty years was the apothecary of the -Pennsylvania Hospital, in Philadelphia. This institution, bear in mind, -is in the heart of the city, not in its outskirts. Under date of March -23, 1862, he records, “Crocus and snow-drop came into bloom last week -and are now fully out.” Again, he says, “Orioles arrived on April 8, -after the fruit-trees burst into bloom.” Here we have a migratory bird -in the city three weeks earlier than its usual appearance in the -country, but I do not think the doctor was mistaken. I have positive -knowledge of the fact that he was a good local ornithologist. Under date -of June, 1866, Conrad writes, “A very pleasant June. Fine bright -weather, and only one week too warm for comfort. The roses bloomed well -(except the moss-rose) and for the most part opened better than usual. -The garden full of birds, and insects less abundant than usual. Many -blackbirds reared their young in our trees, and as many as sixteen or -twenty have been counted on the lawn at one time. Cat-birds, orioles, -thrushes, wrens, vireos, robins, etc., abound and make our old hospital -joyous with their sweet songs.” - -During the summer of 1892 I was twice in the hospital grounds, with -which I was very familiar during my uncle’s—Dr. Conrad’s—lifetime, and I -heard only English sparrows, although I saw two or three native birds. -It was a sad change. Think of being able to speak of your garden as -“full of birds,”—as “joyous with their sweet songs.” This, not long ago, -could truthfully be done. Will it ever be possible to do so again? - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER ELEVENTH - - _AN INDIAN TRAIL_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -It was a strange coincidence. A farmer living near by employed an Indian -from the school at Carlisle, and now that the work of the summer was -over, this taciturn youth walked daily over a hill to a school-house -more than a mile away, and the path leading to it was an Indian trail. - -Not long since I met the lad on this very path returning from school, -and when he passed I stood by an old oak and watched him until lost -among the trees, walking where centuries ago his people had walked when -going from the mountain village and rock shelters along an inland creek -to the distant town by the river. - -As you looked about from the old oak there was no public road or house -in sight; nothing but trees and bushes, huge rocks, and one curious -jutting ledge that tradition holds is a veritable relic of prehistoric -time,—a place where council fires were lit and midnight meetings held. - -Whether tradition is true or not, the place was a fitting one whereat to -tarry and fall a-thinking. Happy, indeed, could the old oak have spoken. - -Many a public road of recent date has been built on the line of an old -trail, as many a town and even city have replaced Indian villages; but -take the long-settled regions generally, the ancient landmarks are all -gone, and a stray potsherd or flint arrow-point in the fields is all -that is left to recall the days of the dusky aborigines. - -Only in the rough, rocky, irreclaimable hills are we likely now to be -successful, if such traces as a trail are sought for. - -It was so here. Bald-top Hill is of little use to the white man except -for the firewood that grows upon its sides and the scattered game that -still linger in its thickets. As seen from the nearest road, not far -off, there is nothing now to suggest that an Indian ever clambered about -it. The undergrowth hides every trace of the surface; but after the -leaves drop and a light snow has fallen, a curious white line can be -traced from the base of the summit; this is the old trail. - -It is a narrow path, but for so long a time had it been used by the -Indians that, when once pointed out, it can still be followed without -difficulty. It leads now from one little intervale to another: from -farmer A to farmer B; but originally it was part of their long highway -leading from Philadelphia to Easton, perhaps. It matters not. Enough to -know that then, as now, there were towns almost wherever there was land -fit for dwellings, and paths that led from one to the other. It is clear -that the Indians knew the whole country well. The routes they finally -chose resulted from long experience, and were as direct as the nature of -the ground made possible. - -The study of trails opens up to us a broader view of ancient Indian life -than we are apt to entertain. - -We find the sites of villages on the banks of the rivers and larger -inflowing streams; travel by canoes was universal. No locality was so -favorable as the open valley, and here the greater number of Indians -doubtless dwelt. But the river and its fertile shores could not yield -all that this people needed: they had to draw from the resources of the -hills behind them. They soon marked the whole region with a net-work of -trails leading to the various points whence they drew the necessities of -life. The conditions of the present day are laid down on essentially the -same lines as then. - -An Indian town was not a temporary tent site, or mere cluster of -wigwams, here to-day and miles away to-morrow; nor did these people -depend solely upon the chase. Beside the trail over which I recently -passed was a great clearing that had been an orchard. We can yet find -many a barren spot that is rightly known to the people of to-day as an -Indian field. So persistently were their cornfields cropped that at last -the soil was absolutely exhausted, and has not yet recovered its -fertility. - -There was systematic bartering, too, as the red pipe-stone or catlinite -from Minnesota and obsidian from the more distant Northwest, found on -the Atlantic coast, as well as ocean shells picked up in the far -interior, all testify. There was also periodical journeying in autumn -from inland to the sea-coast to gather supplies of oysters, clams, and -other “sea food,” which were dried by smoking and then “strung as beads -and carried as great coils of rope” back to the hills to be consumed -during the winter. - -Many small colonies, too, passed the winters on the coast in the shelter -of the great pine forests that extended to the very ocean beach. It was -no hap-hazard threading of a wilderness to reach these distant points. -The paths were well defined, well used. For how long we can only -conjecture, but the vast accumulations of shells on the coast, often now -beneath the water, point to a time so distant that the country wore a -different aspect from what it now does; a time when the land rose far -higher above the tide and extended seaward where now the ocean rolls -resistlessly. - -Returning inland, let us trace another of these old-time paths from the -river-shore whereon the Indians had long dwelt, over hill and dale until -we reach a valley hemmed in by low, rolling hills. - -It is a pretty spot still, although marred by the white man’s work; but -why was it the goal of many a weary journey? - -Here is found the coveted jasper, varied in hue as autumn leaves or a -summer sunset. The quick eye of some wandering hunter, it may be, found -a chance fragment, and, looking closer, saw that the ground on which he -stood was filled with it; or a freshet may have washed the soil from an -outcropping of the mineral. Who can tell? It must suffice to know that -the discovery was made in time, and a new industry arose. No other -material so admirably met the Indian’s need for arrow-points, for the -blades of spears, for knives, drills, scrapers, and the whole range of -tools and weapons in daily use. - -So it came that mining camps were established. To this day, in these -lonely hills, we can trace out the great pits the Indians dug, find the -tools with which they toiled, and even the ashes of their camp-fires, -where they slept by night. So deeply did the Indian work the land -wheresoever he toiled that even the paths that led from the mines to the -distant village have not been wholly blotted out. - -The story of the jasper mines has yet to be told, and it may be long -before the full details are learned concerning the various processes -through which the mineral passed before it came into use as a finished -product. Much vain speculation has been indulged in; the fancied method -of reducing a thick blade to a thin one has been elaborately described, -although never carried out by any human being; in short, the impossible -has been boldly asserted as a fact beyond question. - -The Indian’s history can be read but in small part from the handiwork -that he has left behind. - -One phase of it, in the valley of the Delaware, is more clearly told -than all else,—the advance from a primitive to a more cultured status. -There were centuries during which jasper was known only as -river-pebbles, and its discovery in abundance had an influence upon -Indians akin to that upon Europe’s stone-age people when they discovered -the use of metals. At least here in the valley of the Delaware this is -true. - -It is vain to ask for the beginning of man’s career in this region; what -we find but hints at it. But he came when there were no trails over the -hills, no path but the icy river’s edge; only as the centuries rolled by -was the country developed to the extent of knowing every nook and corner -of the land, and highways and by-ways became common, like the roads that -now reach out in every direction. - -A “trail,” then, has a wealth of meaning, and those who made it were no -“mere savages,” as we so glibly speak of the Indians, thanks to the -average school-books. - -The haughty Delawares had fields and orchards; they had permanent towns; -they mined such minerals as were valuable to them; they had weapons of -many patterns; they were jewellers in a crude way, and finished many a -stone ornament in a manner that still excites admiration. They were -travellers and tradesmen as well as hunters and warriors. - -Although my day’s search for relics of these people had yielded but a -few arrow-points, potsherds, and a stone axe, when I saw the Indian on -his way from school, walking in the very path his people had made long -centuries ago, the story of their ancient sojourn here came vividly to -mind in the dim light of an autumn afternoon, when a golden mist wrapped -the hills and veiled the valleys beyond, and I had a glimpse of -pre-Columbian America. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER TWELFTH - - ._A PRE-COLUMBIAN - DINNER_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -A ponderous geologist, with weighty tread and weightier manner, brought -his foot down upon the unoffending sod and declared, “These meadows are -sinking at a rapid rate; something over two feet a century.” We all knew -it, but Sir Oracle had spoken, and we little dogs did not dare to bark. - -Not long after I returned alone to these ill-fated meadows and began a -leisurely, all-day ramble. They were very beautiful. There was a wealth -of purple and of white boneset and iron-weed of royal dye. Sunflower and -primrose gilded the hidden brooks, and every knoll was banked with -rose-pink centaury. Nor was this all. Feathery reeds towered above the -marsh, and every pond was empurpled with pontederia and starred with -lilies. Afar off, acres of nut-brown sedge made fitting background for -those meadow tracts that were still green, while close at hand, more -beautiful than all, were struggling growths held down by the -golden-dodder’s net that overspread them. - -It does not need trees or rank shrubbery to make a wilderness. This -low-lying tract to-day, with but a summer’s growth above it, is as wild -and lonely as are the Western plains. Lonely, that is, as man thinks, -but not forsaken. The wily mink, the pert weasel, the musk-rat, and the -meadow-mouse ramble in safety through it. The great blue heron, its -stately cousin, the snowy egret, and the dainty least bittern find it a -congenial home. - -The fiery dragon-fly darts and lazy butterflies drift across the -blooming waste; bees buzz angrily as you approach; basking snakes bid -you defiance. Verily, this is wild life’s domain and man is out of -place. - -It was not always so. The land is sinking, and what now of that older -time when it was far above its present level,—a high, dry, upland tract, -along which flowed a clear and rapid stream? The tell-tale arrow-point -is our guide, and wherever the sod is broken we have an inkling of -Indian history. The soil, as we dig a little deeper, is almost black -with charcoal—dust, and it is evident that centuries ago the Indians -were content to dwell here, and well they might be. Even in colonial -days the place had merit, and escaped not the eager eyes of Penn’s -grasping followers. It was meadow then, and not fitted for his house, -but the white man built his barn above the ruins of his dusky -predecessor’s home. All trace of human habitation is now gone, but the -words of the geologist kept ringing in my ears, and of late I have been -digging. It is a little strange that so few traces of the white man are -found as compared with relics of the Indian. From the barn that once -stood here and was long ago destroyed by a flood one might expect to -find at least a rusty nail. - -The ground held nothing telling of a recent past, but was eloquent of -the long ago. Dull indeed must be the imagination that cannot recall -what has been here brought to light by the aid of such an implement as -the spade. Not only were the bow and spear proved to be the common -weapons of the time, but there were in even greater abundance, and of -many patterns, knives to flay the game. It is not enough to merely -glance at a trimmed flake of flint or carefully-chipped splinter of -argillite, and say to yourself, “A knife.” Their great variety has a -significance that should not be overlooked. The same implement could not -be put to every use for which a knife was needed; hence the range in -size from several inches to tiny flakes that will likely remain a puzzle -as to their purpose. - -Besides home products, articles are found that have come from a long -distance, and no class of objects is more suggestive than those that -prove the widely-extended system of barter that prevailed at one time -among the Indians of North America. There are shells and shell ornaments -found in Wisconsin which must have been taken there from the shores of -the Gulf of Mexico; catlinite or red pipe-stone ornaments and pipes -found in New Jersey that could only have come from Minnesota. Shell -beads are often found in graves in the Mississippi Valley that were -brought from the Pacific coast, and the late Dr. Leidy has described a -shell bead, concerning which he states that it is the _Conus ternatus_, -a shell which belongs to the west coast of Central America. This was -found, with other Indian relics, in Hartman’s Cave, near Stroudsburg, -Pennsylvania. Two small arrow-points found in New Jersey a year or more -ago proved to be made of obsidian. These specimens could only have come -from the far South-west or from Oregon, and the probabilities are in -favor of the latter locality. It is not unlikely that objects like the -above should find their way inland to the Great Lakes, and so across the -continent and down the Atlantic coast. On the other hand, arrow-points -could have had so little intrinsic value in the eyes of an Indian that -we are naturally surprised that they should have been found so far from -their place of origin. Obsidian has occurred but very rarely east of the -Alleghanies, so far as I am aware. In the Sharples collection, at West -Chester, Pennsylvania, is a single specimen, reported to have been found -near that place, and a few traces have since been discovered in the -uplands immediately adjoining these Delaware meadows, and really there -is no reason to suppose that objects of value should not have passed -quite across the continent, or been carried from Mexico to Canada. There -were no vast areas absolutely uninhabited and across which no Indian -ever ventured. - -It has been suggested that, as iron was manufactured in the valley of -the Delaware as early as 1728, the supposed obsidian arrow-points are -really made of slag from the furnaces, but a close examination of the -specimens proves, it is claimed, this not to have been the case, and at -this comparatively late date the making of stone arrow-points had -probably ceased. Just when, however, the use of the bow as a weapon was -discarded has not been determined, but fire-arms were certainly common -in 1728 and earlier. - -A careful study, too, of copper implements, which are comparatively -rare, seems to point to the conclusion that very few were made of the -native copper found in New Jersey, Maryland, and elsewhere along the -Atlantic coast, but that they were made in the Lake Superior region and -thence gradually dispersed over the Eastern States. The large copper -spear from Betterton, Maryland, recently found, and another from New -Jersey, bear a striking resemblance to the spear-heads from the -North-west, where unquestionably the most expert of aboriginal -coppersmiths lived. Of course, the many small beads of this metal -occasionally found in Indian graves in the Delaware Valley might have -been made of copper found near by, but large masses are very seldom met -with. - -Speaking of copper beads recalls the fact that a necklace comprising -more than one hundred was recently found on the site of an old Dutch -trader’s house, on an island in the Delaware. They were of Indian -manufacture, and had been in the fur trader’s possession, if we may -judge from the fact that they were found with hundreds of other relics -that betokened not merely European, but Dutch occupation of the spot. -This trader got into trouble and doubtless deserved his summary taking -off. - -It is not “a most absurd untruth,” as was stated not long ago in the -_Critic_ in a review of a New York history, that the Indians were “a -people of taste and industry, and in morals quite the peers of their -Dutch neighbors.” They had just as keen a sense of right and wrong. -There never was a handful of colonists in North America whose whole -history their descendants would care to have known. The truth is, we -know very little of the Indian prior to European contact. Carpet-knight -archæologists and kid-gloved explorers crowd the pages of periodical -literature, it is true, but we are little, if any, the wiser. - -It is supposed, and is even asserted, that the Indian knew nothing of -forks; but that he plunged his fingers into the boiling pot or held in -his bare hands the steaming joints of bear or venison is quite -improbable. Now, the archæologist talks glibly of bone awls whenever a -sharpened splinter of bone is presented him, as if such instruments were -only intended to perforate leather. They doubtless had other uses, and I -am sure that more than one split and sharpened bone which has been found -would have served excellently well as a one-tined fork wherewith to lift -from the pot a bit of meat. Whether or not such forks were in use, there -were wooden spoons, as a bit of the bowl and a mere splinter of the -handle serve to show. Kalm tells us that they used the laurel for making -this utensil, but I fancied my fragment was hickory. Potsherds -everywhere spoke of the Indians’ feasting, and it is now known that, -besides bowls and shallow dishes of ordinary sizes, they also had -vessels of several gallons’ capacity. All these are broken now, but, -happily, fragments of the same dish are often found together, and so we -can reconstruct them. - -But what did the Indians eat? Quaint old Gabriel Thomas, writing about -1696, tells us that “they live chiefly on _Maze_ or _Indian Corn_ rosted -in the Ashes, sometimes beaten boyl’d with Water, called _Homine_. They -have cakes, not unpleasant; also Beans and Pease, which nourish much, -but the Woods and Rivers afford them their provision; they eat morning -and evening, their Seats and Tables on the ground.” - -In a great measure this same story of The Indians’ food supply was told -by the scattered bits found mingled with the ashes of an ancient hearth. -Such fireplaces or cooking sites were simple in construction, but none -the less readily recognized as to their purpose. A few flat pebbles had -been brought from the bed of the river near by, and a small paved area -some two feet square was placed upon or very near the surface of the -ground. Upon this the fire was built, and in time a thick bed of ashes -accumulated. Just how they cooked can only be conjectured, but the -discovery of very thick clay vessels and great quantities of -fire-cracked quartzite pebbles leads to the conclusion that water was -brought to the boiling-point by heating the stones to a red heat and -dropping them into the vessel holding the water. Thomas, as we have -seen, says corn was “boyl’d with Water.” Meat also was, I think, -prepared in the same manner. Their pottery probably was poorly able to -stand this harsh treatment, which would explain the presence of such -vast quantities of fragments of clay vessels. Traces of vegetable food -are now very rarely found. A few burnt nuts, a grain or two of corn, -and, in one instance, what appeared to be a charred crab-apple, complete -the list of what, as yet, have been picked from the mingled earth and -ashes. This is not surprising, and what we know of vegetable food in use -among the Delaware Indians is almost wholly derived from those early -writers who were present at their feasts. Kalm mentions the roots of the -golden-club, arrow-leaf, and ground-nut, besides various berries and -nuts. It is well known that extensive orchards were planted by these -people. It may be added that, in all probability, the tubers of that -noble plant, the lotus, were used as food. Not about these meadows, but -elsewhere in New Jersey, this plant has been growing luxuriantly since -Indian times. - -Turning now to the consideration of what animal food they consumed, one -can speak with absolute certainty. It is clear that the Delawares were -meat-eaters. It needs but little digging on any village site to prove -this, and from a single fireplace deep down in the stiff soil of this -sinking meadow have been taken bones of the elk, deer, bear, beaver, -raccoon, musk-rat, and gray squirrel. Of these, the remains of deer were -largely in excess, and as this holds good of every village site I have -examined, doubtless the Indians depended more largely upon this animal -than upon all the others. Of the list, only the elk is extinct in the -Delaware Valley, and it was probably rare even at the time of the -European settlement of the country, except in the mountain regions. If -individual tastes varied as they do among us, we have certainly -sufficient variety here to have met every fancy. - -With a food supply as varied as this, an ordinary meal or an -extraordinary feast can readily be recalled, so far as its essential -features are concerned. It is now September, and, save where the ground -has been ruthlessly uptorn, everywhere is a wealth of early autumn -bloom. A soothing quiet rests upon the scene, bidding us to -retrospective thought. Not a bit of stone, of pottery, or of burned and -blackened fragment of bone but stands out in the mellow sunshine as the -feature of a long-forgotten feast. As I dreamily gaze upon the -gatherings of half a day, I seem to see the ancient folk that once dwelt -in this neglected spot; seem to be a guest at a pre-Columbian dinner in -New Jersey. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER THIRTEENTH - - _A DAY’S DIGGING_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -As long ago as November, 1679, two Dutchmen, Jasper Dankers and Peter -Sluyter, worked their way laboriously across New Jersey from Manhattan -Island, and reached South River, as the Delaware was then called, at -least by the Hollanders. They were all agog to see the falls at the head -of tide-water, and spent a miserable night in a rickety shanty, which -was cold as Greenland, except in the fireplace, and there they roasted. -All this was not calculated to put them in excellent humor, and so the -next day, when they stood on the river-bank and saw only a trivial rapid -where they had expected a second Niagara, their disgust knew no bounds. -These travel-tired Dutchmen quickly departed, rowing a small boat -down-stream, and growling whenever the tide turned and they had to row -against it. - -When they reached Burlington, they recorded of an island nearly in front -of the village, that it “formerly belonged to the Dutch Governor, who -had made it a pleasure ground or garden, built good houses upon it, and -sowed and planted it. He also dyked and cultivated a large piece of -meadow or marsh.” The English held it at the time of their visit, and it -was occupied by “some Quakers,” as the authors quoted called them. - -One of these Dutch houses, built in part of yellow bricks, and with a -red tiled roof, I found traces of years ago, and ever since have been -poking about the spot, for the very excellent reasons that it is a -pretty one, a secluded one, and as full of natural history attractions -now as it was of human interest when a Dutch beer-garden. - -Had no one who saw the place in its palmy days left a record concerning -the beer, I could, at this late day, have given testimony that if there -was no beer, there were beer mugs, and schnapps bottles, and -wineglasses, for I have been digging again and found them all; and then -the pipes and pipe-stems! I have a pile of over five hundred. The Dutch -travellers were correct as to the place having been a pleasure-garden. -It certainly was, and probably the very first on the Delaware River. But -there was “pleasure,” too, on the main shore, for the men who referred -to the island stayed one night in Burlington, and, the next day being -Sunday, attended Quaker meeting, and wrote afterwards, “What they -uttered was mostly in one tone and the same thing, and so it continued -until we were tired out and went away.” Doubtless they were prejudiced, -and so nothing suited them, not even what they found to drink, for they -said, “We tasted here, for the first time, peach brandy or spirits, -which was very good, but would have been better if more carefully made.” -They did not like the English, evidently, for the next day they went to -Takanij (Tacony), a village of Swedes and Finns, and there drank their -fill of “very good beer” brewed by these people, and expressed -themselves as much pleased to find that, because they had come to a new -country, they had not left behind them their old customs. - -The house that once stood where now is but a reach of abandoned and -wasting meadow was erected in 1668 or possibly a little earlier. Its -nearest neighbor was across a narrow creek, and a portion of the old -building is said to be still standing. Armed with the few facts that are -on record, it is easy to picture the place as it was in the days of the -Dutch, and it was vastly prettier then than it is now. The public of -to-day are not interested in a useless marsh, particularly when there is -better ground about it in abundance, and whoever wanders to such uncanny -places is quite sure to be left severely alone. This was my experience, -and, being undisturbed, I enjoyed the more my resurrective work. I could -enthuse, without being laughed at, over what to others was but -meaningless rubbish, and I found very much that, to me, possessed -greater interest than usual, because of a mingling of late Indian and -early European objects. With a handful of glass, porcelain, and amber -beads were more than one hundred of copper; the former from Venice, the -latter the handiwork of a Delaware Indian. With a white clay pipe, made -in Holland in the seventeenth century, was found a rude brown clay one, -made here in the river valley. Mingled with fragments of blue and white -Delft plates, bowls, and platters, were sundried mud dishes made by -women hereabouts during, who can say how many centuries? How completely -history and pre-history here overlapped! We know pretty much everything -about Dutchmen, but how much do we really know of the native American? -After nearly thirty years’ digging, he has been traced from the days of -the great glaciers to the beginnings of American history; but we cannot -say how long a time that comprises. The winter of 1892-1893 was, so far -as appearances went, a return to glacial times. Ice was piled up fifty -feet in height, and the water turned from the old channel of the river. -The cutting of another one opened up new territory for the relic hunter -when the ice was gone and the stream had returned to its old bed. Many -an Indian wigwam site that had been covered deep with soil was again -warmed by the springtide sun, and those were rare days when, from the -ashes of forgotten camps, I raked the broken weapons and rude dishes -that the red men had discarded. It was reading history at first hands, -without other commentary than your own. The ice-scored gravel-beds told -even an older story; but no one day’s digging was so full of meaning, or -brought me so closely in touch with the past, as when I uncovered what -remained of the old Dutch trader’s house; traced the boundaries of the -one-time pleasure-garden, hearing in the songs of birds the clinking of -glasses, and then, in fancy, adding to the now deserted landscape the -fur-laden canoes of the Indians who once gathered here to exchange for -the coveted gaudy beads the skins of the many animals which at that time -roamed the forests. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER FOURTEENTH - - _DRIFTING_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -Make an early start if you wish an eventful outing. Why know the world -only when the day is middle-aged or old? A wise German has said, “The -morning hour has gold in its mouth.” For many a rod after leaving the -wharf the river still “smoked,” and the scanty glimpses between the -rolling clouds of mist spurred the imagination. There was nothing -certain beyond the gunwales. The pale-yellow color of the water near at -hand and the deep-green and even black of that in the distance had no -daytime suggestiveness. It was not yet the familiar river with its -noonday glitter of blue and silver. - -It is not strange that the initial adventure to which the -above-mentioned conditions naturally gave rise occurred while this state -of uncertainty continued. Very soon I ran upon a snag. To strike such an -object in mid-river was rather startling. Was I not in or near the -channel? Steamboats come puffing and plowing here and sailing craft pass -up and down, so my only care had been to avoid them; but now there came -in my path the twisted trunk of an old forest tree and held me fast. All -the while the mist rose and fell, giving no inkling of my whereabouts. -In the dim, misty light what a strange sea-monster this resurrected -tree-trunk seemed to be! Its thick green coat of silky threads lay -closely as the shining fur of the otter, a mane of eel-grass floated on -the water, the gnarly growths where branches once had been glistened as -huge eyes, and broken limbs were horns that threatened quick -destruction. There was motion, too. Slowly it rose above the water and -then as slowly sunk from view. Could it be possible that some -long-necked saurian of the Jersey marls had come to life? Nonsense; and -yet so real did it seem that I was ready for the river-horse to rise - - “from the waves beneath, - And grin through the grate of his spiky teeth.” - -With such an uncanny keeper, I was held a prisoner. At last I struck it -with an oar to beat it back, and rocked the frail boat until I feared -plunging into the deep water and deeper mud beneath. Deep water? It -suddenly occurred to me to try its depth, and the truth was plain. I was -far from the channel, and might with safety have waded to the shore. As -usual, I had rashly jumped at conclusions. The mouth of an inflowing -creek was near at hand, and this sunken tree, a relic of some forgotten -freshet, had been lying here in the mud for several years. The tide -lifted and let fall the trunk, but the root-mass was still strongly -embedded. I knew the spot of old, and now, fearing nothing, was rational -again. - -Such sunken trees, however, are well calculated to alarm the unthinking. -It is said of one yet lying in the mud of Crosswicks Creek, that it rose -so quickly once as to overturn a boat. This is not improbable. That -occurrence, if true, happened a century ago, and the same tree has since -badly frightened more than one old farmer. I am told this of one of them -who had anchored his boat here one frosty October morning and commenced -fishing. While half asleep, or but half sober, the tree slowly raised up -and tilted the boat so that its occupant felt compelled to swim. His -view of the offending monster was much like my own fevered vision of -to-day. He not only swam ashore, but ran a mile over a soft marsh. To -him the _sea_-serpent was a reality, although he saw it in the _creek_. - -It is of interest to note that among the early settlers of this region, -for at least three generations, the impression was prevalent that there -might be some monster lurking in the deep holes of the creek or in the -river. The last of the old hunters and fishermen of this region, who had -spent all his life in a boat or prowling along shore, was ever talking -of a “king tortle” that for forty years had defied all his efforts to -capture it. “Mostly, it only shows its top shell, but I have seen it -fair and square, head and legs, and I don’t know as I care to get very -close, neither.” This was his unvaried remark whenever I broached the -subject. To have suggested that it was a sunken log, or in some other -way tried to explain the matter, would only have brought about his ill -will. I once attempted it, very cautiously, but he effectually shut me -up by remarking, “When this here creek runs dry and you can walk over -its bottom, you’ll larn a thing or two that ain’t down in your books -yet, and ain’t goin’ to be.” The old man was right. I do not believe in -“king tortles,” but there certainly is “a thing or two” not yet in the -books. Stay! How big do our snappers grow? Is the father of them all -still hiding in the channel of Crosswicks Creek? - -A description in an old manuscript journal, of the general aspect of the -country as seen from the river, bears upon this subject of strange wild -beasts and monsters of the deep, as well as on that of sunken trees that -endangered passing shallops. - -“As we pass up the river,” this observant writer records, "we are so -shut in by the great trees that grow even to the edge of the water, that -what may lye in the interior is not to be known. That there be fertile -land, the Indians tell us, but their narrow paths are toilsome to travel -and there are none [of these people] now that seem willing to guide us. -As we approached ffarnsworth’s the channel was often very close to the -shore, and at one time we were held by the great trees that overhung the -bank and by one that had been fallen a long time and was now lodged in -the water. As I looked towards the shore, I exclaimed, ‘Here we are -indeed in a great wilderness. What strangeness is concealed in this -boundless wood? what wonder may at any time issue from it, or fierce -monster not be lurking in the waters beneath us?’ Through the day the -cries of both birds and beasts were heard, but not always. It was often -so strangely quiet that we were more affected thereby than by the sounds -that at times issued forth. At night there was great howling, as we were -told, of wolves, and the hooting of owls, and often there plunged into -the stream wild stags that swam near to our boat. But greater than all -else, to our discomfort, were the great sunken trunks of trees that were -across the channel, where the water was of no great depth." - -What a change! and would that this old traveller could revisit the -Delaware to-day. My boat is free again and the mists are gone. Through -the trees are sifted the level sunbeams. There is at least a chance now -to compare notes. The forest is now a field, the trackless marsh a -meadow; wild life is largely a thing of the past; silence, both day and -night, replaces sound. No, not that; but only the minor sounds are left. -There are still the cry of the fish-hawk and the sweet song of the -thrush. No stags now swim the river, but there remain the mink and the -musk-rat. It has not been long since I saw a migration of meadow-mice, -and at night, I am sure, many an animal dares to breast the stream, a -mile wide though it be. Too cunning to expose itself by day, it risks -its life at night; and how tragic the result when, nearly at the -journey’s end, it is seized by a lurking foe; dragged down, it may be, -by a snake or a turtle! - -The world is just as full of tragedy as ever, and, let us hope, as full -of comedy. In a bit of yonder marsh, above which bends the tall wild -rice, there is daily enacted scene after scene as full of import as -those which caused the very forest to tremble when the wolf and panther -quarrelled over the elk or deer that had fallen. - -It has been insisted upon that a goal-less journey is necessarily a -waste of time. If on foot, we must keep forever on the go; if in a boat, -we must keep bending to the oars. It is this miserable fallacy that -makes so many an out-door man and woman lose more than half of that for -which they went into the fields. Who cares if you did see a chippy at -every turn and flushed a bittern at the edge of the marsh? If you had -been there before them, and these birds did the walking, you would have -gone home the wiser. It is not the mere fact that there are birds that -concerns us, but what are they doing? why are they doing it? This the -town-pent people are ever anxious to know, and the facts cannot be -gathered if you are forever on the move. Suppose I rush across the river -and back, what have I seen? The bottom of the boat. I came to see the -river and the sky above, and if this is of no interest to the reader, -let him turn the leaf. - -Does every storm follow the track of the sun? As the sun rose there were -clouds in the east and south and a haziness over the western sky. Had I -asked a farmer as to the weather probabilities, he would have looked -everywhere but due north. Why does he always ignore that quarter? There -may be great banks of cloud there, but they go for nothing. “Sou-east” -and “sou-west” are forever rung in your ears, but never a word of the -north. Sometimes I have thought it may be for this reason that about -half the time the farmer is all wrong, and the heaviest rains come when -he is most sure that the day will be clear. - -Looking upward, for the sky was clear in that direction now, I saw that -there were birds so far above me that they appeared as mere specks. Very -black when first seen, but occasionally they flashed as stars seen by -day from the bottom of a well. They could not be followed, except one -that swept swiftly earthward, and the spreading tail and curve of wings -told me it was a fish-hawk. What a glorious outlook from its -ever-changing point of view! From its height, it could have seen the -mountains and the ocean, and the long reach of river valley as well. If -the mists obscure it all, why should a bird linger in the upper air? The -prosy matter of food-getting has nothing to do with it. While in camp on -Chesapeake Bay, I noticed that the fish-hawks were not always fishing, -and often the air rang with their strange cries while soaring so far -overhead as to be plainly seen only with a field-glass. Every movement -suggested freedom from care as they romped in the fields of space. It is -not strange that they scream, or laugh, shall we say? when speeding -along at such rate and in no danger of collision. If I mistake not, the -cry of exultation is coincident with the downward swoop, and I thought -of old-time yelling when dashing down a snow-clad hill-side; but how -sober was the work of dragging the sled up-hill! The hawks, I thought, -were silent when upward bound. If so, there is something akin to -humanity in the hawk nature. - -I have called the cry of the fish-hawk a “laugh,” but, from a human -stand-point, do birds laugh? It is extremely doubtful, though I recall a -pet sparrow-hawk that was given to playing tricks, as I called them, and -the whole family believed that this bird actually laughed. Muggins, as -we named him, had a fancy for pouncing upon the top of my head and, -leaning forward, snapping his beak in my face. Once an old uncle came -into the room and was treated in this fashion. Never having seen the -bird before, he was greatly astonished, and indignant beyond measure -when the hawk, being rudely brushed off, carried away his wig. Now the -bird was no less astonished than the man, and when he saw the wig -dangling from his claws he gave a loud cackle, unlike anything we had -ever heard before, and which was, I imagine, more an expression of -amusement than of surprise. I think this, because afterwards I often -played the game of wig with him, to the bird’s delight, and he always -“laughed” as he carried off the prize. On the contrary, the unsuccessful -attempt to remove natural hair elicited no such expression, but -sometimes a squeal of disgust. - -In the _Spectator_ of October 1, 1892, page 444, I find a most -thoughtful article, entitled “The Animal Sense of Humor,” and I quote as -follows: “The power of laughter is peculiar to man, and the sense of -humor may be said, generally speaking, to be also his special property.” -Again, “We never saw the slightest approach to amusement in one animal -at the mistakes of another, though dogs, so far as we can venture to -interpret their thoughts, do really feel amusement at the mistakes of -men.” Possibly the author is right, but do not cats show a sense of -humor at the rough-and-tumble gambols of their kittens? Is not the sly -cuff on the ear that sends a kitten sprawling indicative of a sense of -fun on the part of tabby? Our author says, “so far as we can venture to -interpret their thoughts.” "Ay, there’s the rub." No one can tell how -far it is safe to venture, but I go a great deal beyond my neighbors. -Our author concludes, “In animals, as in man, humor is the result of -civilization, and not as we understand it, a natural and spontaneous -development.” I cannot subscribe to this. I know little of domestic -animals, but have got the idea of an animal’s sense of humor from wild -life, and confirmed it by what I have seen of cats and dogs. - -While I have been drifting, and using my eyes and ears instead of legs -and arms, as is advocated, the clouds, too, have been creeping this way, -and, while the morning is yet fresh, it is certainly going to rain. Had -I consulted the barometer, I would have known this; but then, knowing -it, might I not have stayed at home? Why not enjoy part of a day? That -the rain will soon be here does not diminish one’s pleasure, unless -there is a fear of getting wet, and this is all too common. I hope that -it does not mean that you have but one suit of clothes. - -The approaching rain, the increasing cloudiness, the shut-in appearance, -made the river exceedingly attractive. With the down-dropping clouds -dropped down the birds, and the swallows now skimmed the water as they -had been skimming the sky. The fish-hawks departed, but a host of -land-birds crossed the stream, as if comparing the shelter afforded by -the cedars on one side and pines on the other. These birds chattered as -they flew by, and turned their heads up- and downstream, as if curious -as to all that might be going on. Suddenly the water ceased to be -rippled, and far down-stream a cloud appeared to have reached the river. -It was the rain. It seemed to march very slowly, and every drop made a -dimple on the river’s breast. Then I could hear the on-coming host, the -sound having a distinct bell-like tinkle as each drop touched the -surface and disappeared. A curious effect, too, was produced by the wind -or the varying density of the cloud above, in that the drops were very -near together where I happened to be, and much farther apart and larger -some distance beyond the boat. I could of course make no measurements, -but appearances suggested that in the middle of the river the drops were -less numerous in the proportion of one to five. Does it usually rain -harder over land than over water? Heretofore I had seen the rain upon -the river while on shore, and was now very glad to have been caught -adrift, so as to observe it from a new point of view. It was a beautiful -sight, well worth the thorough wetting that I got and which drove me -home soon after with pleasant thoughts of my goalless journey. - -[Illustration: _The Camp-Fire_] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER FIFTEENTH - - _FOOTPRINTS_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -While the camp-fire was smoking, for the wood was green and I was -willing that my companion should worry over it, I strolled up the long, -sandy beach with no particular object in mind and quite ready to meet -and parley with any creature that I overtook. I saw only evidences of -what had been there, or what I supposed had been. There were tracks that -I took to be those of herons, and others that suggested a raccoon in -search of crayfish. Here and there a mouse had hurried by. What lively -times had been kept up at low tide within sight of the tent door! and -yet we knew nothing of it. But these tracks were not well defined, and -therefore why not misinterpreted? I have not suggested all the -possibilities of the case—— Here my meditations were checked by the call -to breakfast, but I took up the subject again as I walked alone in the -woods, for I was but the companion of a worker, not one myself. - -It occurred to me that when we read of hunters, or perhaps have followed -a trapper in his rounds, we have been led to think that footprints are -animal autography that the initiated can read without hesitation. To -distinguish the track of a rabbit from that of a raccoon is readily -done, and we can go much further, and determine whether the animal was -walking or running, made a leap here or squatted there; but can we go to -any length, and decipher every impress an animal may have made in -passing over the sand or mud? I think not. I have seen a twig sent -spinning a long distance up the beach at low tide, making a line of -equidistant marks that were extremely life-like in appearance. A cloud -of dead leaves have so dotted an expanse of mud that a gunner insisted -there had been a flock of plover there a few moments before he arrived. -All depends, or very much does, on the condition of the surface marked. -If very soft and yielding, the plainest bird-tracks may be distorted, -and a mere dot, on the other hand, may have its outline so broken as to -appear as though made by a bird or mammal. Still, tracks are a safe -guide in the long run, and, whether our opinion as to them be correct or -not, the rambler finds something worth seeing, and he goes on anything -but a wild-goose chase who sometimes finds himself mistaken. It is well -to check our confidence occasionally and realize the limits of our -power. - -Opportunity afforded while in camp, and I made a short study of -footprints. With a field-glass I noted many birds, and then going to the -spot, examined the impressions their feet had made. A night-heron did -not come down flatly upon its feet with outspread toes, and so the -tracks were quite different from the impressions made when the bird -walked. Crows, I noticed, both hopped and walked, and the marks were -very different, the former being broad and ill-defined in comparison -with the traces of the same bird’s stately tread. Had the bird not been -seen, any one would have supposed two creatures had been keeping close -company, or that some one individual had passed by in the very path of -another. The purple grakle and red-winged blackbird made tracks too much -alike to be distinguished, yet these birds have not the same size or -shape of foot. A water-snake came up over the mud and left a line of -marks upon the sand that could not be recognized as that of any animal, -except it might be a faint resemblance to the trail of a mussel. I -chased a dozen crayfish over a mud flat, and their backward and sidewise -leapings caused an old gunner to say there had been plover about. A -blue-winged teal made a long double line of dents in the sand before it -rose clear of the beach, and these were very like many a footprint I had -previously seen. What, then, must we think of the fossil footprints of -which so much has been written? As different species, a long series of -these impressions in the rock have been described and given -high-sounding titles. I am not entitled to an opinion, but have doubts, -nevertheless, of the wisdom of considering every slightly different form -as made by a different creature. I have given my reasons, and will only -add another instance, one of greater significance than all as bearing -upon the question. I startled a slumbering jumping-mouse last summer and -it bounded across the smooth sand bared by the outgoing tide. Its track -then was one made by its body rather than the extremities, and a curious -dent in the river-shore’s smooth surface it was; but before taking again -to the woods it walked in its peculiar way, and the little footprints -were quite distinct and unmistakably those of a small mammal. Had the -two sets of markings been preserved in a slab of sandstone, no -ichnologist would have recognized the truth, but probably would have -said, “Here is a case where some leaping creature has overtaken a small -rodent and devoured it.” - -Difficult as fossil footprints may be to decipher, they call up with -wonderful distinctness the long ago of other geologic ages. It is hard -to realize that the stone of which our houses are built once formed the -tide-washed shore of a primeval river or the bed of a lake or ocean gone -long before man came upon the scene. - -But the footprints of to-day concern me more. Looking over the side of -the boat, I saw several mussels moving slowly along and making a deep, -crooked groove in the ripple-marked sand, “streaking the ground with -sinuous trace,” as Milton puts it; and the school of blunt-headed -minnows made little dents in the sand wherever the water was shallow, -when they turned suddenly and darted off-shore. This sand seemed very -unstable, and a little agitation of the water caused many a mark to be -wiped out; and yet we find great slabs of ripple-marked and foot-marked -sandstone. I picked up such a piece not long ago on which were rain-drop -marks. This is the story of a million years ago; but who ever found -Indian moccasin-marks not two centuries old? The footprints that could -tell us many a wonderful story are all gone and the tale of a rain-drop -remains. This is a bit aggravating. Here where we have pitched our camp, -or very near it, was a Swedish village in 1650 and later, and for two -days I have been hunting for evidence of the fact,—some bit of broken -crockery, rusty nail, glass, pewter spoon, anything,—but in vain. -History records the village, and correctly, without a doubt, but there -are no footprints here, nor other trace to show that a white man ever -saw the place until our tent was pitched upon the beach. - -Towards evening I had occasion to renew my youth,—in other words, “run -on an errand,” as my mother put it,—and going half a mile through the -woods, I came to a narrow but well-worn path. This was so akin to my -footprint thoughts of the morning that I gladly followed it instead of -making a short cut. It was fortunate, for the path led directly to where -I wished to go, and our theoretical geography, as usual, was terribly -out of joint. As it was, on the edge of an old village I found a very -old man in a very old house. His memory as to the earlier half of the -century was excellent, and he gave me the desired information and more. -I spoke of the path through the woods, and he chuckled to himself. - -“Through the woodses, eh? Well, when I made the path, goin’ and comin’ -through the brush that wasn’t shoulder-high, there was no trees then. -That was more’n forty years ago.” - -"No, John, ’twa’n’t," piped a weak voice from the interior of the little -cottage; “’twa’n’t mor’n——” - -"Laws, man, don’t mind her. She disputes the almanac, and every winter -gets in New Year’s ahead of Christmas." - -I did not stop to argue the matter, but hurried campward, glad that, if -I could find no footprints of human interest and historic, I at least -had followed a path made forty years ago,—a path that had been worn -among bushes and now led through a forest. It was indeed suggestive. By -the camp-fire that night I vowed to plant a forest where now there was -but a thicket, and in my dreams I walked through a noble wood. - -Think how much might be done to beautify the world, and how little is -accomplished. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER SIXTEENTH - - _FOOTPRINTS_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -The great storm of yesterday cleared the air as well as cleaned the -beaches, and the river was fresh and sparkling as though the tempest had -added new life, so that the listless midsummery water was now as -champagne, “with beaded bubbles winking at the brim.” The air was heavy -with sweetness and with song, the fields and meadows painted as the -rose. The buckwheat was in bloom, and a million bees were humming. The -pasture was gay with pink gerardia, or reflected the summer sky where -the day-flower blossomed. There was no commingling of these late -flowers. Each had its own acre, exercised squatter sovereignty, and -allowed no trespassing. The only evidence of man’s interference, except -the buckwheat-field, was a dilapidated worm-fence, and this is one of -several instances where beauty increases hand in hand with decay. The -older such a fence, the better; when merely a support for Virginia -creeper or the rank trumpet-vine, it is worthy the rambler’s regard. -Wild life long ago learned what a safe snug-harbor such ruined fences -offer. It puzzles even a mink to thread their mazes, and the shy rabbit -that has its “form” in a brier-hidden hollow of the crooked line feels -that it is safe. - -There are traces of these old fences of which no record remains, placed -perhaps by the very earliest settler in a tract that he had cleared and -which has since gone back to an almost primitive state. In an old -woodland I once traced a fence by the long line of cypripediums in -bloom, which were thriving in the mould of decayed fence-rails, a pretty -if not permanent monument to departed worth. - -A word more of these old fences in winter. When the snow beats across -the field, it stops here and gracefully curves above it, arching the -rails and vines until all is hidden, unless it be some lonely projecting -stake, by which alone it communicates with the outside world. I rashly -attempted once to go across-lots over a new country, and made a -discovery. The snow-bound fence was but a drift, I thought, but it -proved to be far different. The thick mat of hardy growths had kept back -the snow, which was but a roof and did not wholly exclude the light. For -some distance I could dimly make out the various growths, and each -little cedar stood up as a sentinel. A loud word sounded and resounded -as if I had spoken in an empty room or shouted in a long tunnel. The -coldest day in the year could not inconvenience any creature that took -shelter here, and I found later that life, both furred and feathered, -knew the old fence far better than I did. - -But this is the last day but one of August, and so nominally the end of -summer. Only nominally, for these flowery meadows and sweet-scented -fields contradict the almanac. This quiet nook in the Delaware meadows -offers no intimation of autumn until October, and late in the month at -that. The bees and buckwheat will see to this, or seem to, which is just -as much to the purpose. To-day along the old worm-fence are many -kingbirds, and, although mute, they are not moping. There is too much -insect life astir for that. With them are orioles and bluebirds, the -whole making a loose flock of perhaps a hundred birds. The bluebirds are -singing, but in a half-hearted, melancholy way, reminding me of an old -man who spent his time when over ninety in humming “Auld Lang Syne.” -Before the buckwheat has lost its freshness these birds will all be -gone, but at what time the bluebirds part company with the others I do -not know. They certainly do not regularly migrate, as do the others. -There was a colony of them that lived for years in and about my barn, -and one was as sure to see them in January as in June. No English -sparrows could have been more permanently fixed. - -When the buckwheat is ripe and the fields and meadows are brown, there -will be other birds to take their place. Tree-sparrows from Canada and -white-throats from New England will make these same fields merry with -music, and the tangle about the old fence will ring with gladness. But -it is August still, and why anticipate? High overhead there are black -specks in the air, and we can mark their course, as they pass, by the -bell-like _chink-chink_ that comes floating earthward. It is one of the -sounds that recall the past rather than refer to the present. The -reed-bird of to-day was a bobolink last May. His roundelay that told -then of a long summer to come is now but a single note of regret that -the promised summer is a thing of the past. It is the Alpha and Omega of -the year’s song-tide. Not that we have no other songs when the reed-bird -has flown to the Carolina rice-fields. While I write, a song-sparrow is -reciting reminiscences of last May, and there will be ringing rounds of -bird-rejoicing from November to April. Still, the initial thought holds -good: bobolink in May, and only a reed-bird in August; the beginning and -the end; the herald of Summer’s birth and her chief mourner; Alpha and -Omega. - -Where the brook that drains the meadow finds its way, the little -rail-birds have congregated. Many spent their summer along the -Musketaquid, where Thoreau spent his best days, but they bring no -message from New England. They very seldom speak above a whisper. Not so -the king-rail. He chatters as he threads the marsh and dodges the great -blue barrier that sweeps above the cat-tail grasses and has to be -content with a sparrow or a mouse. - -These late August days are too often overfull, and one sees and hears -too much,—so very much that it is hard to give proper heed to any one of -the many sights and sounds. But how much harder to turn your back upon -it! All too soon the sun sinks into the golden clouds of the western -sky. - -That was a happy day when the buckwheat was threshed in the field, on a -cool, clear, crisp October morning. The thumping of the Hails on the -temporary floor put the world in good humor. No bird within hearing but -sang to its time-keeping. Even the crows cawed more methodically, and -squirrels barked at the same instant that the flail sent a shower of -brown kernels dancing in the air. The quails came near, as if impatient -for the grains eyes less sharp than theirs would fail to find. It was -something at such a time to lie in the gathering heap of straw and join -in the work so far as to look on. That is a boy’s privilege which we -seldom are anxious to outgrow. A nooning at such a time meant a fire to -warm the dinner, and the scanty time allowed was none too short for the -threshers to indulge in weather prognostications. This is as much a -habit as eating, and to forego it would be as unnatural as to forego the -taking of food. As the threshers ate, they scanned the surroundings, and -not a tree, bush, or wilted weed but was held to bear evidence that the -coming winter would be “open” or “hard,” as the oldest man present saw -fit to predict. No one disputed him, and no one remembered a week later -what he had said, so the old man’s reputation was safe. - -The buckwheat threshed, the rest is all a matter of plain prose. Stay! -In the coming Indian summer there was always a bee-hunt. The old man -whom we saw in the buckwheat-field in October was our dependence for -wild honey, which we fancied was better than that from the hives. He -always went alone, carrying a wooden pail and a long, slender oaken -staff. How he found the bee-trees so readily was a question much -discussed. “He smells it,” some one suggested; “He hears ’em a-buzzin’,” -others remarked. Knowing when he was going, I once followed on the sly -and solved the mystery. He went without hesitation or turning of the -head to a hollow beech, and straightway commenced operations. I did not -stay to witness this, but came away recalling many a Sunday afternoon’s -stroll with him in these same woods. What he had seen in August he had -remembered in December, and, wise man that he was, said nothing -meanwhile. Why, indeed, should he throw aside the opportunity to pose as -one having superior knowledge, when others were so persistent in -asserting it of him? There is that much vanity in all men. - -But a year later his superior knowledge failed him. I had found the same -tree in my solitary rambles, and was there ahead of him. Still, I never -enjoyed my triumph. I felt very far from complimented when he remarked, -as an excuse for his failure, that “a skunk had been at the only -bee-tree in the woods. He saw signs of the varmint all about;” and when -he said this he looked directly at me, with his nose in the air. - -It is winter now, and when in the early morning I find cakes and honey -upon the breakfast-table, excellent as they are in their way, they are -the better that they call up the wide landscape of those latter August -days and of frosty October, for I see less of the morning meal before me -than of bees and buckwheat. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH - - _DEAD LEAVES_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -I have often wondered why the Indians did not call November the month of -dead leaves. The out-of-town world is full of them now. They replace the -daisies and dandelions in the open fields, the violets and azaleas in -the shady woods. They are a prominent feature of the village street. -Many will cling to the trees the winter long, but millions are scattered -over the ground. Even on the river I find them floating, borne slowly by -the tide or hurrying across the rippled surface, chased by the passing -breeze. - -The pleasure—common to us all—we take in crushing them beneath our feet -savors of heartlessness. Why should we not recall their kindness when, -as bright-green leaves, each cast its mite of grateful shade, so dear to -the rambler, and now, when they have fallen, let them rest in peace? We -should not be ugly and revengeful merely because it is winter. There is -nothing to fret us in this change from shade to sunshine, from green -leaves to brown. The world is not dead because of it. While the sun -looks down upon the woods to-day there arises a sweet odor, pleasant as -the breath of roses. The world dead, indeed! What more vigorous and full -of life than the mosses covering the rich wood-mould? Before me, too, -lies a long-fallen tree cloaked in moss greener than the summer -pastures. Not the sea alone possesses transforming magic; there is also -“a _wood_-change into something rich and strange.” Never does the -thought of death and decay centre about such a sight. The chickadee -drops from the bushes above, looks the moss-clad log over carefully, -and, when again poised on an overhanging branch, loudly lisps its -praises. What if it is winter when you witness such things? One swallow -may not make a summer, but a single chickadee will draw the sting from -any winter morning. - -I never sit by the clustered dead leaves and listen to their faint -rustling as the wind moves among them but I fancy they are whispering of -the days gone by. What of the vanished springtide, when they first -timidly looked forth? They greeted the returning birds, the whole merry -host of north-bound warblers, and what startling facts of the bird-world -they might reveal! There is no eye-witness equal to the leaf, and with -them lives and dies many a secret that even the most patient -ornithologist can never gain. How much they overhear of what the birds -are saying! to how much entrancing music they listen that falls not upon -men’s ears! What a view of the busy world above us has the fluttering -leaf that crowns the tall tree’s topmost twig! Whether in storm or -sunshine, veiled in clouds or beneath a starlit sky, whatsoever happens, -there is the on-looking leaf, a naturalist worth knowing could we but -learn its language. - -A word here as to the individuality of living leaves. Few persons are so -blind as to have never noticed how leaves differ. Of every size and -shape and density, they have varied experiences, if not different -functions, and their effect upon the rambler in his wanderings is by no -means always the same. At high noon, when the midsummer sun strives to -parch the world, let the rambler stand first beneath an old oak and then -pass to the quivering aspen, or pause in the shade of a way-side locust -and then tarry beneath the cedar, at whose roots the sunshine never -comes. It needs but to do this to realize that there are leaves and -leaves: those that truly shelter and those that tease you by their -fitfulness. - -It is winter now and the leaves are dead; but, although blighted, they -have not lost their beauty. Heaped in the by-paths of this ancient wood, -they are closely associated with the pranks of many birds, and for this -alone should be lovingly regarded. Even now I hear an overstaying -chewink—for this is a warm wood the winter long—tossing them in little -clouds about him as he searches for the abundant insects that vainly -seek shelter where they have fallen. The birds seem to seek fun as well -as food among the leaves. I have often watched them literally dive from -the overhanging bushes into a heap of leaves, and then with a flirt of -the wings send dozens flying into the air. It is hard to imagine any -other purpose than pure sport. When, as often happens, two or three -follow their leader, I always think of a string of boys diving or -playing leap-frog. “Coincidence,” cries old Prosy, with a wise shake of -his head. Perhaps; but I think old Prosy is a fool. - -The strange, retiring winter wren is equally a lover of dead leaves. He -plays with them in a less boisterous manner, but none the less delights -in tossing them to and fro. It is at such a time that a few notes of his -marvellous summer song occasionally escape him. The white-throated -sparrows fairly dance among or upon the heaped-up leaves, and play -bo-peep with the clouds of them they send aloft; and in February the -foxie sparrows play the same pranks. Squirrels and mice are equally at -home, and abandon all prudence when they frolic among the windrows. The -more clatter and cackle, the better they are pleased. When freed from -the restraint of fear, wild life is fun-loving to the very brim. - -Dead leaves are never deserted unless the weather is extremely cold or a -storm has prevailed until they are a sodden mat. Even from such a -wetting they soon recover and respond to the passing breeze’s gentlest -touch. Dead leaves are the matured fruit of summer, and what an -important part they really play as the year closes! They are not now of -the air, airy, but of the earth, earthy. Dead, it is true, yet living. -Passive, yet how active! They are whispering good cheer now to the -sleeping buds that await the coming of a new year, and faithfully guard -them when the storm rages. For such deeds we owe them our kindliest -thoughts. - -In the golden sunshine of this dreamy day the leaves have yet another -visitor that makes merry with them. The little whirlwind, without a -herald, springs laughingly upon them, even when the profoundest quiet -reigns throughout the wood. Touched by this fairy’s wand, the leaves -rise in a whirling pillar and dance down the narrow path into some even -more secluded nook. Dead leaves, indeed! Never did the wildest madcap of -a courting bird play livelier pranks. - -Time was when I would have searched the woods for winter-green and worn -it gayly. I am content to-day to carry a withered leaf. - - - - - INDEX - - A. _Allium_, 77. - _Amelanchier_, 140. - _Andromeda_, 57. - _Ants_, 14, 36. - _Arbutus_, 51, 57, 62. - _Arrow-point_, 156. - _Azalea_, 141. - - B. _Bear_, 54. - _Beaver_, 66. - _Beech_, 43. - _Birch_, 54. - _Bittern_, 73, 180. - _least_, 42. - _Bittersweet_, 142. - _Blackbird_, 32, 41, 67, 75, 189. - _Blueberry_, 64. - _Bluebird_, 18, 67, 143, 197. - _Boneset_, 155. - _Butterflies_, 20, 156. - _Buzzards_, 67. - - C. _Cardinal bird_, 23, 59, 75, 80, 87, 111, 144. - _Cat-bird_, 32, 59, 87, 137, 146. - _Caterpillar_, 133. - _Catlinite_, 150, 158. - _Cat-tail_, 42. - _Cedar_, 64. - _Celastrus_, 142. - _Centaury_, 155 - _Centipede_, 57. - _Chat_, 32, 83. - _Cherry, wild_, 43. - _Chewink_, 59, 80, 206. - _Chickadee_, 204. - _Chimney-swift_, 20. - _Clay_, 35. - _Clethra_, 141. - _Cougars_, 65. - _Cow-bird_, 93. - _Crayfish_, 187, 190. - _Crocus_, 145. - _Crow_, 11, 32, 47, 76, 86, 189, 200. - _Cyperus_, 77. - - D. _Day-flower_, 195. - _Deer_, 54, 179 - _Deer-berry_, 141. - _Deutzia_, 141. - _Diver_, 29. - _Dodder_, 116, 156. - _Dove_, 24. - _Dragon-fly_, 156. - _Ducks, wild_, 86; - _wood-_, 56. - - E. _Eagle_, 24. - _Eel_, 54. - _Elk_, 179. - _Elm_, 43. - - F. “_False-teeth_,” 141. - _Finch, indigo_, 72; - _purple_, 59; - _thistle_, 32. - _Fly-catcher_, 15, 32, 144. - _Frogs_, 58, 67. - - G. _Galium_, 77. - _Gerardia_, 195. - _Golden-club_, 56. - _Grakle_, 32, 75, 145, 189. - _Grosbeak, rose-breasted_, 59. - _Gulls_, 76. - _Gum-tree_, 66. - - H. _Harrier_, 199. - _Hawk, black_, 17. - _duck-_, 24. - _fish-_, 26, 32, 179, 181. - _sparrow-_, 182. - _Heron, blue_, 42; - _green_, 25; - _night_, 189. - _Herons_, 41, 67, 187. - _Herring_, 67. - _Hickory_, 17, 44. - _Holly_, 51. - _Honeysuckle_, 136. - _Humming-bird_, 136. - _Hyla_, 58. - - I. _Indian grass_, 64. - _relics_, 148, 152, 157, 160. - _Ink-berry_, 52. - _Iris_, 40. - _Iron-weed_, 155. - - J. _Jasper_, 151. - _Jay, blue-_, 47. - _Jerboa_, 59. - - K. _Kill-deer plover_, 32, 67, 77, 95. - _Kingbird_, 41, 197. - _Kinglet_, 65, 82. - _King-rail_, 42, 199. - - L._Leucothoe_, 141. - _Lindera_, 140. - _Liquidambar_, 54. - _Loon_, 67. - _Lotus_, 41, 134. - - M. _Magnolia_, 66. - _Maple_, 28, 52, 72. - _Martin_, 31, 143. - _Mink_, 53, 156, 179. - _Minnow, mud-_, 39. - _Minnows_, 126, 191. - _Mistletoe_, 28, 66. - _Mocking-bird_, 32. - _Moss, club-_, 57; - _reindeer_, 54, 62. - _Mouse, meadow-_, 17, 42, 156, 179. - _white-footed_, 59. - _Musk-rat_, 29, 53, 156, 179. - _Mussel_, 191. - - O._Oak_, 10, 21, 44, 64, 138. - _willow-_, 53. - _Obsidian_, 150, 159. - _Opossum_, 46, 59. - _Orioles_, 71, 90, 144, 197. - _Oven-bird_, 135. - _Owl, barn_, 123. - - P. _Panther_, 179. - _Partridge-berry_, 54. - _Pepper-bush, sweet_, 141. - _Pike_, 125. - _Pine, Weymouth_, 30. - _Pinxter flower_, 141. - _Pipilo_, 113. - _Plover_, 188. - _Plum, wild_, 141. - _Pontederia_, 155. - _Poplar, Lombardy_, 30. - _Primrose_, 155. - _Pyxie_, 57, 61, 68. - - Q. _Quail_, 32, 200. - - R. _Rabbit_, 44, 188, 196. - _Raccoon_, 47, 187. - _Rail-bird_, 199. - _Raven_, 146. - _Red-eye_, 19, 32. - _Redstart_, 32. - _Reed-bird_, 198. - _Reeds_, 155. - _Relics, Indian_, 43. - _Robin_, 32, 47, 75, 146. - _Rose-mallow_, 41. - _Roses_, 145. - - S. _Sand-piper_, 25, 38. - _Saponaria_, 77. - _Sedge_, 156. - _Shad-bush_, 140. - _Snake, garter-_, 27. - _water-_, 130, 179, 190. - _Snow-birds_, 67. - _Sparrow, chipping_, 32, 180. - _foxie_, 207. - _song-_, 25, 32, 76, 88, 135. - _swamp-_, 41. - _tree-_, 59, 82, 198. - _white-throated_, 59, 198, 207. - _Sphagnum_, 56, 57, 69. - _Spice-wood_, 73, 140. - _Spiders_, 37. - _Spirea_, 141. - _Squirrel, flying-_, 59. - _Sundew_, 69. - _Sunfish_, 129. - _Sunflower_, 41, 155. - _Swallow, bank_, 93; - _barn_, 94. - - T. _Tanager, scarlet_, 53, 144. - _Tea-berry_, 52. - _Teal, blue-winged_, 190. - _Thorn, white_, 141. - _Thrush, brown_, 32, 72, 82. - _Thrushes_, 71, 144. - _Titmouse_, 20, 67, 75. - _Trout_, 127. - _Trumpet-creeper_, 136. - _Tulip-tree_, 43. - _Turkey-buzzard_, 32. - _Turtle, snapping-_, 132, 179. - - V. _Vireo, red-eyed_, 32, 90; - _white-eyed_, 112. - - W. _Warbler, spotted_, 32, 51. - _tree-creeping_, 87. - _Warblers_, 51, 73, 205. - _Weasel_, 156. - _Whippoorwill_, 72. - _Winter-green_, 62, 69. - _Wolf_, 179. - _Wood-robin_, 18. - _Wren_, 31, 72, 142. - _Carolina_, 79. - _marsh-_, 41. - _winter_, 207. - - - - -[Illustration] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note - -Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and -are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. -The following issues should be noted, along with the resolutions. - - 95.10 Why, on the other hand, wood[ /-]peckers Added. - 140.9 and often sparse of bloom[,/.] But Replaced. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Travels in a Tree-top, by Charles Conrad Abbott - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAVELS IN A TREE-TOP *** - -***** This file should be named 55805-0.txt or 55805-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/8/0/55805/ - -Produced by KD Weeks, ellinora and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Travels in a Tree-top - -Author: Charles Conrad Abbott - -Release Date: October 24, 2017 [EBook #55805] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAVELS IN A TREE-TOP *** - - - - -Produced by KD Weeks, ellinora and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>Transcriber’s Note:</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c001'>The several full-page illustrations have been repositioned slightly -to avoid falling in mid-paragraph. The captions appeared on a -separate page. These illustrations were not included in the pagination. -Multiple unnumbered blank pages associated with them have been removed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please -see the transcriber’s <a href='#endnote'>note</a> at the end of this text -for details.</p> - -<div class='htmlonly'> - -<p class='c001'>Any corrections are indicated using an <ins class='correction' title='original'>underline</ins> -highlight. Placing the cursor over the correction will produce the -original text in a small popup.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -</div> -<div class='epubonly'> - -<p class='c001'>Any corrections are indicated as hyperlinks, which will navigate the -reader to the corresponding entry in the corrections table in the -note at the end of the text.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i_001.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<hr class='c002' /> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div>BY CHARLES CONRAD ABBOTT</div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c004' /> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>The Freedom of the Fields.</span> With Frontispiece -by Alice Barber Stephens, and -three photogravures. Buckram, ornamental, -$1.50</p> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>Travels in a Tree-Top.</span> With Frontispiece -by Alice Barber Stephens, and three photogravures. -Buckram, ornamental, $1.50</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div><cite>Abbott’s Fireside and Forest Library</cite></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>The Freedom of the Fields and Travels -in a Tree-Top.</span> Two volumes in a box. -12mo. Buckram, ornamental, $3.00</p> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>Recent Rambles</span>; Or, In Touch with Nature. -Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $2.00</p> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>The Hermit of Nottingham.</span> A novel. -12mo. Cloth, ornamental, $1.25</p> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>When the Century was New.</span> A novel. -12mo. Cloth, $1.00</p> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>A Colonial Wooing.</span> A novel. 12mo. -Cloth, $1.00</p> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>Bird-Land Echoes.</span> Profusely illustrated by -William Everett Cram. Crown 8vo. Cloth, -gilt top, $2.00</p> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>The Birds About Us.</span> Illustrated. 12mo. -Cloth, $2.00</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div><cite>Abbott’s Bird Library.</cite></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c005'><span class='sc'>The Birds About Us</span> and <span class='sc'>Bird-Land -Echoes</span>. Two volumes in a box. 12mo. -Cloth, gilt top, $4.00</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_I'>I</span> - <h1 class='c006'><i>TRAVELS IN <br /> A TREE-TOP</i></h1> -</div> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div id='frontis' class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_006.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic003'> -<p><cite>An Old-fashioned Garden</cite><br />By Alice Barber Stephens</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> - -<div class='box'> - -<div class='innerbox'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='xxlarge'>TRAVELS IN</span></div> - <div><span class='xxlarge'>⧫ ⧫ A ⧫ ⧫</span></div> - <div><span class='xxlarge'>TREE-TOP</span> <span class='large'><span class='fss'>BY</span></span></div> - <div><span class='xlarge'>CHARLES C. ABBOTT</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_title.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='xxlarge'>J. B. LIPPINCOTT CO.</span></div> - <div><span class='xxlarge'>PHILADELPHIA 1898</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c007'> - <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_II'>II</span><span class='sc'>Copyright</span>, 1894 <span class='fss'>AND</span> 1897,</div> - <div>BY</div> - <div><span class='sc'>J. B. Lippincott Company</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_v'>v</span> - <h2 class='c008'><span class='sc'>Contents</span></h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary=''> -<colgroup> -<col width='89%' /> -<col width='10%' /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class='c009'> </td> - <td class='c010'><em>Page</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>Travels in a Tree-top</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch01'>9</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>A Hunt for the Pyxie</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch02'>61</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>The Coming of the Birds</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch03'>71</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>The Building of the Nest</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch04'>83</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>Corn-stalk Fiddles</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch05'>97</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>The Old Kitchen Door</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch06'>103</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>Up the Creek</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch07'>109</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>A Winter-Night’s Outing</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch08'>119</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>Wild Life in Water</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch09'>125</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>An Old-fashioned Garden</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch10'>133</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>An Indian Trail</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch11'>147</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>A Pre-Columbian Dinner</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch12'>155</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>A Day’s Digging</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch13'>167</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>Drifting</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch14'>173</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>Footprints</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch15'>187</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>Bees and Buckwheat</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch16'>195</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>Dead Leaves</em></td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#ch17'>203</a></td> - </tr> -</table> -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_vii'>vii</span> - <h2 class='c008'><span class='sc'>Illustrations</span></h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary=''> -<colgroup> -<col width='66%' /> -<col width='23%' /> -<col width='10%' /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class='c009'> </td> - <td class='c011'> </td> - <td class='c010'><span class='small'><em>Page</em></span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>An Old-fashioned Garden</em></td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#frontis'>Frontispiece</a></td> - <td class='c010'> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'>By Alice Barber Stephens</td> - <td class='c011'> </td> - <td class='c010'> </td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>The Chesapeake Oak</em></td> - <td class='c011'> </td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#i022'>22</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>The Old Drawbridge, Crosswick’s Creek</em></td> - <td class='c011'> </td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#i116'>116</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><em>The Camp-Fire</em></td> - <td class='c011'> </td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#i187'>187</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='figcenter id005'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span> -<img src='images/i_015header.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch01' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>FIRST</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter First: Travels in a Tree-top'><em>TRAVELS IN A TREE-TOP</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> - -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_015cap.jpg' width='125' height='122' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'> -A pearly mist shut out the river, -the meadows, and every field for -miles. I could not detect the ripple -of the outgoing tide, and the heartiest songster -sent no cheerful cry above the wide-spreading -and low-lying cloud; but above all this silent, -desolate, and seemingly deserted outlook there -was a wealth of sunshine and a canopy of -deep-blue sky. Here and there, as islands in -a boundless sea, were the leafy tops of a few -tall trees, and these, I fancied, were tempting -regions to explore. Travels in a tree-top—surely, -here we have a bit of novelty in this -worn-out world.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Unless wholly wedded to the town, it is not -cheering to think of the surrounding country -as worn out. It is but little more than two -centuries since the home-seeking folk of other -lands came here to trick or trade with the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>Indians, wild as the untamed world wherein -they dwelt; and now we look almost in vain -for country as Nature fashioned it. Man may -make of a desert a pleasant place, but he also -unmakes the forest and bares the wooded hills -until as naked and desolate as the fire-swept -ruins of his own construction. It is but a -matter of a few thousand cart-loads of the hill -moved to one side, and the swamp that the -farmer dreads because it yields no dollars is obliterated. -He has never considered its wealth -of suggestiveness. “A fig for the flowers and -vermin. I must plant more corn.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But here and there the tall trees are still -standing, and their tops are an untravelled -country. I climbed an oak this cool midsummer -morning; clambered beyond the -mists, which were rolling away as I seated -myself far above the ground, safe from intrusion, -and resting trustfully on yielding branches -that moved so gently in the passing breeze that -I scarcely perceived their motion.</p> - -<p class='c001'>How much depends upon our point of view! -The woodland path may not be charming if -the undergrowth too closely shuts us in. In -all we do, we seek a wider vision than our -arm’s length. There may be nothing better -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>beyond than at our feet, but we never believe -it. It is as natural to ask of the distant as -of the future. They are closely akin. Here -in the tree-top my wants were supplied. I -was only in the least important sense cribbed, -cabined, and confined.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Wild life, as we call it, is very discriminating, -and that part of it which notices him -at all looks upon man as a land animal; one -that gropes about the ground, and awkwardly -at that, often stumbling and ever making more -noise than his progress calls for; but when -perched in a tree, as an arboreal creature, he -is to be studied anew. So, at least, thought -the crows that very soon discovered my lofty -quarters. How they chattered and scolded! -They dashed near, as if with their ebon wings -to cast a spell upon me, and, craning their glossy -necks, spoke words of warning. My indifference -was exasperating at first, and then, as -I did not move, they concluded I was asleep, -dead, or a dummy, like those in the corn-fields. -The loud expostulations gave place -to subdued chatterings, and they were about -to leave without further investigation, when, -by the pressure of my foot, I snapped a dead -twig. I will not attempt description. Perhaps -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>to this day the circumstance is discussed -in corvine circles.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is difficult to realize the freedom of flight. -Twisting and turning with perfect ease, adapting -their bodies to every change of the fitful -wind, these crows did not use their wings -with that incessant motion that we need in -using our limbs to walk, but floated, rose and -fell, as if shadows rather than ponderable -bodies. Until we can fly, or, rather, ride -in flying-machines, we cannot hope to know -much of this flight-life of birds, and it is the -better part of their lives. But it was something -to-day to be with even these crows in -the air. Following their erratic flight from -such a point of view, I seemed to be flying. -We are given at times to wonder a great deal -about birds, and they have equal reason to -constantly consider us. Who can say what -these crows thought of me? All I can offer -to him who would solve the problem is that -their curiosity was unbounded, and this is -much if their curiosity and ours are akin. Of -course they talked. Garner need not have -gone to Africa to prove that monkeys talk, -and no one can question that crows utter more -than mere alarm-cries.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>A word more concerning crows. What so -absurd, apparently, as this?</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“A single crow betokens sorrow,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Two betoken mirth,</div> - <div class='line'>Three predict a funeral,</div> - <div class='line in2'>And four a birth.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>Yet it is a very common saying, being repeated -whenever a few, or less than five, fly -over. It is repeated mechanically, of course, -and then forgotten, for no one seems to worry -over one or three crows as they do when a -looking-glass breaks or the dropped fork sticks -up in the floor. Seems to worry, and yet I -strongly suspect a trace of superstition lingers -in the mind of many a woman. Those who -will not sit as one of thirteen at a table are -not dead yet. Can it be that all this weakness -is only more concealed than formerly, -but none the less existent?</p> - -<p class='c001'>I watched the departing crows until they -were but mere specks in the sky, and heard, -or fancied I heard, their cawing when half a -mile away. It is ever a sweet sound to me. -It means so much, recalls a long round of jolly -years; and what matters the quality of a sound -if a merry heart prompts its utterance?</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>I was not the only occupant of the tree; -there were hundreds of other and more active -travellers, who often stopped to think or converse -with their fellows and then hurried on. -I refer to the great, shining, black ants that -have such a variety of meaningless nicknames. -Its English cousin is asserted to be ill-tempered, -if not venomous, and both Chaucer -and Shakespeare refer to them as often mad -and always treacherous. I saw nothing of -this to-day. They were ever on the go and -always in a hurry. They seemed not to dissociate -me from the tree; perhaps thought -me an odd excrescence and of no importance. -No one thinks of himself as such, and I forced -myself upon the attention of some of the hurrying -throng. It was easy to intercept them, -and they grew quickly frantic; but their fellows -paid no attention to such as I held captive -for the moment. I had a small paper -box with me, and this I stuck full of pin-holes -on every side and then put half a dozen of -the ants in it. Holding it in the line of the -insects’ march, it immediately became a source -of wonderment, and every ant that came by -stopped and parleyed with the prisoners. A -few returned earthward, and then a number -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>came together, but beyond this I could see -nothing in the way of concerted action on the -part of the ants at large looking towards succoring -their captive fellows. Releasing them, -these detained ants at once scattered in all directions, -and the incident was quickly forgotten. -Where were these ants going, and what -was their purpose? I wondered. I was as -near the tree’s top as I dared to go, but the -ants went on, apparently to the very tips of -the tiniest twigs, and not one that I saw came -down laden or passed up with any burden. -It is not to be supposed they had no purpose -in so doing, but what? There is scarcely an -hour when we are not called upon to witness -just such aimless activity,—that is, aimless so -far as we can determine.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Nothing molested these huge black ants, -although insect-eating birds came and went -continually. One lordly, great-crested fly-catcher -eyed them meditatively for some seconds, -and then my identity suddenly dawned -upon him. His harsh voice, affected by fear, -was more out of tune than ever, and, coupled -with his precipitant flight, was very amusing. -The bird fell off the tree, but quickly caught -himself, and then, as usual, curiosity overcame -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>fear. Students of bird-ways should never forget -this. The fly-catcher soon took a stand -wherefrom to observe me, and, if intently -staring at me for thirty seconds was not curiosity, -what shall we call it? Is it fair to -explain away everything by calling it mere -coincidence? It is a common practice, and -about as logical as the old cry of “instinct” -when I went to school. To have said, when -I was a boy, that a bird could think and could -communicate ideas to another of its kind, -would have brought down ridicule upon my -head out of school, and brought down something -more weighty if the idea had been expressed -in a “composition.” I speak from -experience.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To return to the cheerier subject of curiosity -in birds: our large hawks have it to a -marked degree, and advantage can be taken of -this fact if you wish to trap them. I have -found this particularly true in winter, when -there is a general covering of the ground with -snow. Food, of course, is not then quite so -plenty, but this does not explain the matter. -An empty steel trap on the top of a hay-stack -is quite as likely to be tampered with as when -baited with a mouse. The hawk will walk -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>all around it, and then put out one foot and -touch it here and there. If we can judge from -the bird’s actions, the question, What is it, -anyway? is running through its mind. I once -played a trick upon a splendid black hawk that -had been mousing over the fields for half the -winter. It often perched upon a stack of -straw instead of the lone hickory near by. -Early one morning I placed a plump meadow-mouse -on the very top of the stack, to which -I had attached a dozen long strands of bright-red -woollen yarn and a bladder that I had inflated. -This was secured to the mouse by a -silk cord, and all were so concealed by the -snow and straw that the hawk noticed the -mouse only. The bird was suspicious at first: -it was too unusual for a mouse not to move -when a hawk hovered above it. Then the -bird alighted on the stack and walked about -the mouse, pecking at it once, but not touching -it. Then putting out one foot, he seized -it with a firm grip, the talons passing through -the carcass, and at the same time spread his -wings and moved slowly towards the lone -hickory that towered near by. I was near -enough to see every movement. It was evident -that the hawk did not look down at first, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>and saw nothing of the streaming threads and -bobbing bladder; but it did a moment later, -and then what a quickening of wings and -hasty mounting upward! The hawk was -frightened, and gave a violent jerk with one -foot, as if to disengage the mouse, but it was -ineffectual. The sharp claws had too strong -a hold, and the effect was only to more violently -bob the bladder. Then the hawk -screamed and dashed into the trees near by, -and was out of sight.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A curious and disappointing occurrence, -while sitting aloft, was the frequent discovery -of my presence by birds and their -sudden right-about movement and departure. -Occasionally I could see them coming as if directly -towards me, but their keen eyes noticed -the unusual object, and they would dart off -with a promptness that showed how completely -at home they were while on the wing. -Even the bluebirds, usually so tame, had -their misgivings, and came to rest in other -trees. But if the birds were not always about -and above me, there were many below, and the -sweet song of the wood-robin from the tangled -underbrush seemed clearer and purer than -when sifted through a wilderness of leaves.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>It was not until noon that the wood and -open fields became silent or nearly so, for the -red-eye came continually, and, whether insect-hunting -in the tree or on the wing, it seemed -never to cease its singing, or querulous cry, -which more aptly describes its utterance. To -hear this sound throughout a long summer day -is depressing, particularly if you hear nothing -else, for the steady hum of insect-life hardly -passes for sound. It was only when I listened -for it that I was aware that millions of -tiny creatures were filling the air with a humming -that varied only as the light breeze carried -it away or brought it nearer and clearer -than before. There is a vast difference between -absolute and comparative or apparent -silence. The former is scarcely ever a condition -of the open country unless during a -still, cold winter night, and never of one of -our ordinary woodland tracts. We do find it, -however, in the cedar swamps and pine-land, -even during summer. I have often stood in -“the pines” of Southern New Jersey and -tried to detect some sound other than that -of my own breathing, but in vain. Not -a twig stirred. The dark waters of the pools -were motionless; even the scattered clouds -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>above were at rest. It was to be absolutely -alone, as if the only living creature upon -earth. But ere long a gentle breeze would -spring up, there was a light and airy trembling -of the pines, and the monotone of a -whispered sigh filled the forest. Even this -was a relief, and what a joy if some lonely bird -passed by and even lisped of its presence! -The <em>dee-dee</em> of a titmouse at such a time was -sweeter music than the choral service that -heralds the coming of a bright June morning.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At noon, the day being torrid, there was -comparative silence, and yet as I looked about -me I saw ceaseless activity in a small way. -The ants were still journeying, and red admiral -and yellow swallow-tailed butterflies -came near, and the latter even passed high -overhead and mingled with the chimney-swifts. -Had I been on the ground, walking -instead of waiting, I should have sought some -sheltered spot and rested, taking a hint from -much of the wild life I was watching.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>AT NOONTIDE.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Where cluster oaks and runs the rapid brook,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Repose the jutting rocks beneath the ferns;</div> - <div class='line'>Here seeks the thrush his hidden leafy nook,</div> - <div class='line in2'>And wandering squirrel to his hole returns.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>Afar the steaming river slowly wends</div> - <div class='line in2'>Its tortuous way to mingle with the sea;</div> - <div class='line'>No cheerful voice its languid course attends;</div> - <div class='line in2'>The blight of silence rests upon the lea.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Where the wide meadow spreads its wealth of weeds,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Where the rank harvest waves above the field,</div> - <div class='line'>The testy hornet in his anger speeds,</div> - <div class='line in2'>And stolid beetle bears his brazen shield.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Give them the glowing, fiery world they love,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Give me the cool retreat beside the stream;</div> - <div class='line'>While sweeps the sun the noontide sky above,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Here would I linger with the birds and dream.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='i022' class='figcenter id005'> -<img src='images/i_031.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic003'> -<p><em>The Chesapeake Oak</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>And now what of the tree itself? Here -I have been the better part of a long fore-noon, -and scarcely given this fine young oak -a thought. A young oak, yet a good deal -older than its burden; an oak that was an -acorn when the century was new, and now -a sturdy growth full sixty feet high, straight -of stem to its undermost branches and shapely -everywhere. Such trees are not remarkable -of themselves, though things of beauty, but -at times how suggestive! Think of pre-Columbian -America; then there were oaks to -make men marvel. “There were giants in -those days.” Occasionally we meet with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>them even now. A year ago I camped on -the shore of Chesapeake Bay near an oak -that measured eighteen feet six inches in -circumference four feet from the ground, and -in St. Paul’s church-yard, not a great way -off, are five big oaks, one of which is twenty -feet around shoulder high from the roots. -Such trees are very old. The church-yard -was enclosed two centuries ago, and these -were big trees then, and so older by far than -any monument of white men on the continent, -except possible traces of the Norsemen. If -a tree such as this in which I have been sitting -is full to overflowing with suggestiveness, -how much more so a noble patriarch like that -upon the bay shore! It is usually not easy to -realize the dimensions of a huge tree by -merely looking at it, but this mammoth impressed -one at first sight. The branches were -themselves great trees, and together cast a circular -patch of shade, at noon, three paces -more than one hundred feet across. As a -tree in which to ramble none could have -been better shaped. The lowest branches -were less than twenty feet from the ground, -and after reaching horizontally a long way, -curved upward and again outward, dividing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>finally into the leaf-bearing twigs. Course -after course continued in this way, the size -decreasing gradually, and the whole forming, -as seen from a distance, a magnificent dome-shaped -mass. Comparisons with the tree’s -surroundings were full of suggestiveness. -The ground immediately about was densely -covered with rank ferns and the acorn sprouts -of one or two years’ growth. Yet, where they -were, it seemed but a smoothly-shaven lawn, -so insignificant were they when seen with the -tree; and the sproutland beyond, which -would otherwise have been a wood, was absolutely -insignificant. Yet, in truth, everything -here was on a grand scale. The ferns -were tall, and to prove it I sat upon the -ground among them and so shut out all view -of the great tree and its surroundings. I -spent many hours seated upon different -branches of this oak, and every one had features -all its own. From those nearest the -ground I surveyed the bird-life in the thicket -beneath, and was entertained by a pair of -nesting cardinal red-birds that came and went -as freely as if quite alone, and whistled cheerfully -morning, noon, and night. I fancied I -made friends with these birds, for early one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>morning the male bird came to camp, as if -to inspect my nest, thinking I was not up, -and he expressed his favorable opinion in -most glowing terms. A pair of doves, too, -had a nest in sight, and their melancholy cooing -seemed out of tune here, where Nature -had done her work so well. Once, at least, -while I was there, the bald eagle came for a -few moments, and, big bird as he is, was not -conspicuous, and had not a flash of sunlight -fallen upon his yellow beak and white head, -I should not have been aware of his presence, -as he certainly was not of mine. What I -took to be a duck-hawk, a few days later, interested -me much more. He was a splendid -bird, and tarried but a short time. The -leaves so concealed him that I was not sure, -having no field-glass at the time, but do not -think I was mistaken. The eagle did not -appear to disturb the fish-hawk’s temper in -the least, but the great hawk did, and he -was much excited until the bird disappeared -in the steam and smoke that as a great cloud -rested above Baltimore.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The birds of this retired spot may be -divided into two classes,—those of the oak -and of the sproutland growths about it, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>the birds of the air, principally swallows, -which hung over the tree as a trembling -cloud. Never were swallows more numerous, -except when flocked prior to migration. -In the tree and bushes were always many -birds, yet often they were far from each -other. This gave me an excellent idea of -what a great oak really is. Birds quite out of -sight and hearing of each other were resting -on branches from the same trunk. Although -the middle of July, there was no lack of -song, and second nesting of many familiar -birds is, I judge, more common in Maryland -than in New Jersey. Of all the birds that -came, the little green herons were the most -amusing. A pair doubtless had a nest near -by, or young that were not yet on the -wing. They walked sedately along the level -branches, as a man might pace up and down -his study, buried in deep thought. I listened -carefully for some expression of content, but -they made no sound except when they were -startled and flew off. I was much surprised -to find the beach-birds occasionally darting -among the branches, and once a spotted sandpiper -rested a moment near me. These birds -we associate with water and the open country, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>although this species is less aquatic than its -fellows. They were always in sight from -the door of my tent, and always an earlier -bird than I. I recall now standing upon the -beach long before sunrise, marking the promises -of the coming day, as I interpreted them. -The fish-hawks were ahead of me; so, too, -the little sand-pipers. Their piping at this -time was very clear and musical. It was a -delightful accompaniment to the rippling -water. The dear old song-sparrows were -quiet, and I was very glad; but with the -first flooding of the sea with sunlight they -all sang out, and the Chesapeake was afar -off and I in the home meadows on the Delaware. -I prefer novelty when away. It is -well to utterly forget, at times, that which -we most prize. What boots it to stand on -the hill-top, if your thoughts are forever in -the lowlands? Twice, from the branches -of the old oak, I saw a splendid sunset, but -nothing equal to the sunrise of to-day. With -many a matter of this life the beginning is -better than the end. We had a superb sunset -last night. The color was gorgeous, but -it was plain and commonplace compared to -the sunrise of to-day. Perhaps no tint was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>really brighter in one case than in the other, -but my mind was. The sunset was too -closely linked with the death of the day; there -was the idea of a grand finale before the -curtain drops, and this tends to dull enthusiasm. -It is not so with sunrise. It is all -freshness,—a matter of birth, of beginning, -of a new trial of life,—and with so happy an -entrance, the exit should be one of gladness -only; but there is no trace of pity in Nature. -In awful certainty the night cometh.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I was not surprised at every visit to this -tree to find some new form of life resting on -its branches. A beautiful garter-snake had -reached a low branch by climbing to it from -a sapling that reached a little above it. There -was no break in the highway that led to -its very summit. The grass leaned upon -ferns, these upon shrubs, these again upon -saplings, and so the tree was reached. Any -creeping thing could have climbed just eighty -feet above the earth with far less danger than -men encounter clambering over hills.</p> - -<p class='c001'>And not only a zoological garden was this -and is every other old tree, but the oak had -its botanic garden as well. When we consider -that many of the branches were so wide -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>and level that one could walk upon them, it is -not strange that earth, dead leaves, and water -should lodge in many places. Indeed, besides -the two gardens I have mentioned, the oak -had also an aquarium. But I cannot go -into particulars. The parasitic plant-life—not -truly such, like the mistletoe—was a -striking feature. Maple seeds had lodged and -sprouted, and in a saucer-shaped depression -where dust and water had lodged a starved -hawkweed had got so far towards maturity -as to be in bud.</p> - -<p class='c014'>It may appear as utter foolishness to others, -but I believe that trees might in time become -tiresome. Whether in leaf or bare of foliage, -there is a fixedness that palls at last. -We are given to looking from the tree to -the world beyond; to hurrying from beneath -their branches to the open country. To live -in a dense forest is akin to living in a great -city. There is a sense of confinement against -which, sooner or later, we are sure to rebel. -We long for change. The man who is perfectly -satisfied has no knowledge of what satisfaction -really is. Logical or not, I turned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>my attention from the tree at last, and thought, -What of the outlook? Directly north, in -the shallow basin, hemmed in by low hills, -lies the town. A cloud of smoke and steam -rests over it, and barely above it reach the -church-spires and tall factory chimneys, as if -the place was struggling to be free, but only -had its finger-tips out of the mire of the -town, of which I know but little. My wonder -is that so many people stay there, and, -stranger still, wild life not only crowds its -outskirts, but ventures into its very midst. -In one town, not far away, I found the -nests of seventeen species of birds, but then -there was a large old cemetery and a millpond -within its boundaries. Time was when -through the town before me there flowed a -creek, and a pretty wood flourished along its -south bank. The creek is now a sewer, and -an open one at that, and yet the musk-rat -cannot quite make up his mind to leave it. -Stranger than this was seeing recently, in a -small creek discolored by a dyeing establishment, -a little brown diver. How it could -bring itself to swim in such filth must remain -a mystery. A queer old character that -had lived all his life in the country once said -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>of the nearest town, “It is a good place -to dump what we don’t want on the farm.” -This old fellow would always drive me -out of his orchard when apples were ripe, -but I liked him for the sentiment I have -quoted.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I am out of town now, and what of the -world in another direction? Turning to the -east, I have farm after farm before me; all -different, yet with a strong family likeness. -This region was taken up by English Quakers -about 1670 and a little later, and the houses -they built were as much alike as are these -people in their apparel. The second set of -buildings were larger only and no less severely -plain; but immediately preceding the Revolution -there were some very substantial mansions -erected. From my perch in the tree-top -I cannot see any of the houses distinctly, -but locate them all by the group of Weymouth -pines in front and sometimes both before and -behind them. The old-time Lombardy poplar -was the tree of the door-yards at first, but -these, in this neighborhood, have well-nigh -all died out, and the pines replace them. -One farm-house is vividly pictured before me, -although quite out of sight. The owner -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>made it a home for such birds as might choose -to come, as well as for himself, and what royal -days have been spent there! There was -no one feature to attract instant attention as -you approached the house. The trees were -thrifty, the shrubbery healthy, the roses vigorous, -and the flowering plants judiciously selected; -but what did strike the visitor was -the wealth of bird-life. For once let me catalogue -what I have seen in and about one -door-yard and what should be about every -one in the land. At the end of the house, -and very near the corner of the long portico, -stood a martin-box, occupied by the birds for -which it was intended. In the porch, so that -you could reach it with your hand, was a -wren’s nest, and what a strange house it had! -It was a huge plaster cast of a lion’s head, and -between the grim teeth the bird passed and repassed -continually. It promenaded at times -on the lion’s tongue, and sang triumphantly -while perched upon an eyebrow. That wren -certainly saw nothing animal-like in the plaster -cast as it was, and I have wondered if it -would have been equally free with a stuffed -head of the animal. My many experiments -with animals, as to their recognition of animals -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>as pictured, have demonstrated everything, -and so, I am afraid I must admit, nothing. -In the woodbine on the portico were -two nests,—a robin’s and a chipping-sparrow’s. -These were close to each other, and -once, when sitting in a rocking-chair, I swayed -the woodbine to and fro without disturbing -either bird. In the garden were a mocking-bird, -cat-bird, thistle-finch, song-sparrow, -brown thrush, yellow-breasted chat, and red-eyed -vireo. In the trees I saw a great-crested -fly-catcher, purple grakle, a redstart, spotted -warbler, and another I failed to identify. In -the field beyond the garden were red-winged -blackbirds and quail, and beyond, crows, fish-hawks, -and turkey-buzzards were in the air; -and, as the day closed and the pleasant sights -were shut out, I heard the clear call of the -kill-deer plover as they passed overhead, heard -it until it mingled with my dreams. “Providence -Farm” is indeed well named, for the -birdy blessing of Providence rests upon it; -but were men more given to considering the -ways and wants of wild life, we might find -such pleasant places on every hand. Farms -appear to be growing less farm-like. The -sweet simplicity of colonial days has been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>well-nigh obliterated, and nothing really better -has replaced it. On the other hand, a -modern “country place,” where Nature is -pared down until nothing but the foundation-rocks -remain, is, to say the least, an eyesore. -There is more pleasure and profit in an Indian -trail than in an asphaltum driveway.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Westward lie the meadows, and beyond -them the river. Seen as a whole, they are -beautiful and, like all of Nature’s work, will -bear close inspection. The bird’s-eye view -to-day was too comprehensive to be altogether -enjoyable: it was bewildering. How -completely such a tract epitomizes a continent! -The little creek is a river; the hillock, -a mountain; the brushland, a forest; -the plowed tract, a desert. If this fact were -not so generally forgotten we would be better -content with what is immediately about us. -Mere bigness is not everything. So, too, -with animal life. We spend time and money -to see the creatures caged in a menagerie, and -never see the uncaged ones in the thicket behind -the house. Every lion must roar, or we -have not seen the show; a lion rampant is -everything, a lion couchant, nothing. There -was no visible violence in the meadows to-day; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>Nature was couchant, and I was thankful. -When the tempest drives over the land I want -my snug harbor by the chimney-throat. The -sparks can fly upward to join the storm if they -will. The storms I enjoy are matters of hearsay.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Take up a ponderous government quarto -of the geological survey and glance over the -splendid plates of remarkable rocks, cañons, -and high hills, and then look out of your -window at the fields and meadow. What a -contrast! Yes, a decided one, and yet if -you take an open-eyed walk you will find a -good deal of the same thing, but on a smaller -scale. You have not thought of it before; -that is all. I put this matter to a practical -test not long ago, and was satisfied with the -result. The last plate had been looked at -and the book was closed with a sigh, and a -restless youth, looking over the wide range -of fields before him, was thinking of the -grand mountains, strange deserts, and deep -cañons pictured in the volume on his lap, and -comparing such a country with the monotonous -surroundings of his home.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What a stupid place this part of the -world is!” he said at last. “I wish I could -go out West.”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>“Perhaps it is not so stupid as it looks,” -I replied. “Let’s take a walk.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>I knew what the book described at which -the lad had been looking, and had guessed -his thoughts. We started for a ramble.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Let us follow this little brook as far as -we can,” I suggested, “and see what a stupid -country can teach us,” purposely quoting my -companion’s words, with a little emphasis.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Not fifty rods from beautiful old trees the -collected waters, as a little brook, flowed -over an outcropping of stiff clay, and here -we voluntarily paused, for what one of us -had seen a hundred times before was now -invested with new interest. There was here -not merely a smooth scooping out of a mass -of the clay, to allow the waters to pass swiftly -by; the least resisting veins or strata, those -containing the largest percentage of sand, had -yielded quickly and been deeply gullied, -while elsewhere the stiff, black ridges, often -almost perpendicular, still withstood the current, -and, confining the waters to narrow -limits, produced a series of miniature rapids -and one whirlpool that recalled the head-waters -of many a river.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Near by, where, when swollen by heavy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>rains, the brook had filled the little valley, -temporary rivulets had rushed with fury over -the clay, and cut in many places deep and -narrow transverse channels. From their steep -sides projected many a pebble that gave us -“overhanging rocks,” and one small bowlder -bridged a crevice in the clay, and was in use -at the time as a highway for a colony of ants. -Near it stood slender, conical pillars of -slightly cemented sand, some six inches in -height, and every one capped with a pebble -of greater diameter than the apex of the supporting -sand. These were indeed beautiful.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I have never seen them before,” remarked -the boy.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Very likely,” I replied, “but you have -crushed them under foot by the dozens.” -They were not to be overlooked now, -though, and in them he saw perfect reproductions -of wonderful “monument rocks” -which he had so lately seen pictured in the -ponderous government geological report.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Withdrawing to the field beyond, where a -bird’s-eye view of the brook’s course could -be obtained, we had spread out before us a -miniature, in most of its essentials, of a cañon -country. The various tints of the clay gave -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>the many-colored rocks; the different densities -of the several strata resulted in deep or -shallow ravines, fantastic arches, caverns, and -beetling precipices. On a ridiculously small -scale, you may say. True, but not too small -for the eyes of him who is anxious to learn.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A few rods farther down the stream we -came to a small sandy island which divided -the brook and made a pleasant variety after a -monotonous course through nearly level -fields. A handful of the sand told the story. -Here, meeting with so slight an obstruction -as a projecting root, the sandy clays from -above had been deposited in part, and year -after year, as the island grew, the crowded -waters had encroached upon the yielding -banks on either side, and made here quite a -wide and shallow stream. Small as it was, -this little sand-bar had the characteristic features -of all islands. The water rippled along -its sides and gave it a pretty beach of sloping, -snow-white sand, while scarcely more than -half a foot inland the seeds of many plants -had sprouted, and along the central ridge or -backbone the sod was thick set, and several -acorns, a year before, had sprouted through -it. We found snails, spiders, and insects -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>abundant, and faint footprints showed that -it was not overlooked by the pretty teetering -sand-piper.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Now came a total change. Abruptly turning -from its former straightforward course, -the brook entered a low-lying swamp, -crowded to the utmost with dense growths -of tangled vines and stunted trees. The -water was no longer sparkling and colorless, -but amber-tinted, and in many a shallow pool -looked more like ink. Life here appeared -in many forms. Small mud-minnows, turtles, -and snakes were found in the gloomy, weed-hidden -pools, and numberless insects crowded -the rank growths above as well as the waters -beneath. The mutual dependence of vegetation -and animal life was here very striking. -Previously we had found comparatively little -either in the brook or about it, but now our -eyes were gladdened not only with what I -have mentioned, but birds, too, were in abundance.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Bent upon freeing my native county from -the charge of stupidity, I led the way through -this “dismal swamp.” It was no easy task. -Nowhere were we sure of our footing, and -it required constant leaping from root to root -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>of the larger trees. There was at times no -well-defined channel, and often we could hear -the gurgling waters hurrying beneath our feet, -yet catch no glimpse of them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Here, too, other springs welled to the surface, -and the augmented volume of waters -finally left the swamp a stream of considerable -size, which, after a tortuous course through -many fields, entered a deep and narrow ravine. -After untold centuries the brook has worn -away the surface soil over which it originally -flowed, then the gravel beneath, and so down -to the clay, thirty feet below. Upon this -now rest the bowlders and such coarser material -as the waters could not transport.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Clinging to the trees growing upon the -sides of the ravine, we closely followed the -course of the troubled, bubbling, foamy -waters, stopping ever and anon to look at -the exposed sections of sand and gravel here -shown in curious alternate layers. The -meaning of the word “deposits,” so frequently -met with in descriptive geology, -was made plain, and when we noticed of -how mixed a character was the coarse gravel, -it was easy to comprehend what had been -read of that most interesting phase of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>world’s past history, the glacial epoch, or -great ice age. The gravel was no longer an -unsuggestive accumulation of pebbles, but -associated rolled and water-worn fragments -of a hundred different rocks that by the -mighty forces of ice and water had been -brought to their present position from regions -far away.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The ravine ended at the meadows, through -which the waters passed with unobstructed -flow “to join the brimming river.” As we -stood upon the bank of the mighty stream I -remarked, “This is a stupid country, perhaps, -but it has some merits.” I think the -boy thought so, too.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The meadows are such a comprehensive -place that no one knows where to begin, if -the attempt is made to enumerate their features. -There is such a blending of dry land -and wet, open and thicket-grown, hedge and -brook and scattered trees, that it is bewildering -if you do not choose some one point -for close inspection. From the tree-top I -overlook it all, and try in vain to determine -whether the azure strip of flowering iris or -the flaunting crimson of the Turk’s cap lilies -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>is the prettier. Beyond, in damper soil, the -glistening yellow of the sunflowers is really -too bright to be beautiful; but not so where -the water is hidden by the huge circular leaves -of the lotus. They are majestic as well as -pretty, and the sparse bloom, yellow and -rosy pink, is even the more conspicuous by -reason of its background. How well the -birds know the wild meadow tracts! They -have not forsaken my tree and its surroundings, -but for one here I see a dozen there. -Mere inky specks, as seen from my point of -view, but I know them as marsh-wrens and -swamp-sparrows, kingbirds and red-wings, -that will soon form those enormous flocks -that add so marked a feature to the autumn -landscape. It needs no field-glass to mark -down the passing herons that, coming from -the river-shore, take a noontide rest in the -overgrown marsh.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I had once, on the very spot at which I -was now looking, an unlooked-for adventure. -For want of something better to do, I pushed -my way into the weedy marsh until I reached -a prostrate tree-trunk that during the last -freshet had stranded there. It was a wild -place. The tall rose-mallow and wavy cat-tail -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>were far above my head, and every trace -of civilization was effectually shut out. It -was as much a wilderness as any jungle in -the tropics. Nor was I alone. Not a -minute elapsed before a faint squeak told me -that there were meadow-mice in the hollow -log on which I sat. Then the rank grass -moved and a least bittern came into view and -as quickly disappeared. I heard continually -the cackle of the king-rail, and the liquid twittering -of the marsh-wrens was a delight. The -huge globular nests of these birds were everywhere -about me; but the birds did not think -of me as having any evil designs upon them, -so they came and went as freely as if alone. -This is bird-viewing that one too seldom -enjoys nowadays. Often, and very suddenly, -all sound ceased and every bird disappeared. -I did not recognize the cause at first, but was -enlightened a moment later. A large bird -passed over, and its very shadow frightened -the little marsh-dwellers. If not, the shadow -and fright were a coincidence several times -that morning. The day, for me, ended with -the unusual chance of a close encounter with -a great blue heron. I saw the bird hover for -a moment directly overhead, and then, letting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>its legs drop, it descended with lead-like -rapidity. I leaned backward to avoid it, and -could have touched the bird when it reached -the ground, it was so near. I shall never -know which was the more astonished. Certainly, -had it chosen, it could have stabbed -me through and through.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I was glad to be again on drier land and in -open country. There had been adventure -enough; and yet, as seen from a distance, -this bit of marsh was but weeds and water.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Southward there stands the remnant of a -forest: second- and third-growth woodland -usually; for trees of really great age are now -generally alone. I can see from where I sit -three primeval beeches that are known to -be over two centuries old, and not far away -towered one giant tulip-tree that since the -country’s earliest settlement had stood like a -faithful sentinel, guarding the south bank of -a nameless spring brook. Ever a thing of -beauty, it shone with added splendor at night, -when the rising full moon rested in its arms, -as if weary at the very outset of her journey. -My grandfather told me that in his boyhood -it was known as the “Indian tree,” because -a basket-maker and his squaw had a wigwam -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>there. That was a century ago, and often, -of late years, I have hunted on the spot -for some trace of these redskins, but found -nothing, although all about, in every field, -were old Indian relics, even their cherished -tobacco-pipes. Small, recent growths of -timber, even where they have succeeded an -ancient forest, are not, as a rule, attractive. -Their newness is too evident, and, except -for a few passing birds, they are not apt to -harbor much wild life. As I look at the -mingled foliage of oaks and elms, beeches, -hickories, and wild cherry, I give little heed -to that before me and recall forests worthy -of the name, doing precisely what I have -declared unwise. A naturalist could find -more material in these few acres of woodland -than he could “work up” in a lifetime. -I have underrated them. From the little -thicket of blackberry vines I see a rabbit -slowly loping, as if in search of food. It is -a full-grown fellow, and suggests the round -of the traps in late autumn and the woods in -winter.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I never knew a boy brought up in the -country who was not at one time an enthusiastic -trapper. Just as mankind in the infancy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>of the world were forced to pit their -energy and skill against the cunning of the -animals needed for food or of such that by -reason of their fierceness endangered human -life, so the country boy of to-day puts his -intelligence to work to circumvent the superiority -of such animal life as by fleetness of -foot or stroke of wing can avoid the pursuer. -It is a question largely of brain against anatomical -structure. No Indian, even, ever -outran a deer, nor savage anywhere by mere -bodily exertion stopped the flight of a bird. -Men were all sportsmen, in a sense, when -sport, as we call it, was necessary to human -existence. As centuries rolled by, such -animals and birds as came in daily contact -with man necessarily had their sleepy wits -aroused, and now it is a case of cunning -against cunning. We are all familiar with -such phrases as “wild as a hawk” and “shy -as a deer.” In the morning of man’s career -on earth there were no such words as “shy” -and “wild.” They came into use, as words -are constantly coming into our language, because -circumstances make them a necessity; -and as men were trappers before they were -traders or tillers of the field, so the words -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>are old, and while animal life lasts they will -be retained.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Nowadays we generally outgrow this love -of trapping, or it remains in the love of sport -with gun or rod. But, old Izaak Walton and -Frank Forrester to the contrary notwithstanding, -I hold that nothing in fishing or shooting -has that freshness, that thrilling excitement, -that close touch with nature, that clings to -our early days, when, in autumn and winter, -we went the round of the traps. How -through the long night we had visions of the -rabbit cautiously approaching the box-trap -on the edge of the swamp! How clearly we -saw in the corner of the weedy old worm-fence -the stupid opossum bungling along, and -awoke with a start as the clumsy creature -sprang the trap from the outside! I pity the -boy who has not had such a distressing dream.</p> - -<p class='c001'>No boy ever turned out before sunrise with -a smiling countenance to milk or help in any -way with farm work; but how different when -it was a matter of the traps he had set the -night before! The anticipation of success is -an all-sufficient incentive, and neither bitter -cold nor driving storm deters him. Of a -winter dawn much might be said. No boy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>ever was abroad so early that the squirrels -were not before him, and in the fading light -of the stars he will hear the crows cawing -and the blue-jays chattering in the woods. -To the naturalist, of course, such time of -day is full of suggestiveness; but the general -belief that it is a proper time to sleep will -never be given up. Indeed, judging others -by myself, as the boy gets well on in his teens -there is a growing disposition to let the traps -go until broad daylight and even until after -breakfast. This is unfortunate in two ways: -there is a likelihood of seeing animal life in -the full flush of activity in the pre-sunlit hours -that is unknown as the day advances; the -night-prowlers are all gone to their dens, and -the birds that roost in colonies have dispersed -for the day. One seldom overtakes a raccoon -or a weasel at or near noontide, and in the -woods where a thousand robins have roosted -there may now not be one. Then, again, -your visit to the traps may be anticipated -if you are too deliberate in starting on your -rounds. This is an experience that no boy -of spirit can calmly undergo, and no wonder. -The rude box-trap was not easy to make, considering -the usual condition of tools upon a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>farm. The hunt for likely places whereat to -set it had been real labor. The long tramp -in the gloaming when tired out from a day -at school; the early tramp, before sunrise -perhaps, for he must be on time at school that -morning,—all this is to be considered; but -if success crowns the effort, all is well. On -the other hand, to find that some rascal has -been ahead of you and your labor has gone -for nothing—— I never knew a boy to be -a saint at such a time.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I can recall a well-marked rabbit-path I -once found, half a mile from home, and with -great secrecy carried one of my traps to the -place. It was on the next farm, and so I had -to be more than usually careful. Nothing -could be done in daylight for fear the boys -living on that farm would find me out, and -this sort of poaching was not tolerated. At -first I was successful, catching two fine rabbits, -and then, alas! was so elated that, boylike, -I said too much. Some one must have -tracked me, for I caught no more, although it -was evident that the trap had been disturbed. -Straightway I suspected treachery, and prepared -for revenge.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Now, auntie had a fur tippet, or “boa,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>as she called it, which was just six feet long. -The moths one summer had ruined it, and for -some time it had been lying around uncared -for and a plaything for the younger children. -This I appropriated, and fastened to one end -of it a rabbit’s head, with the ears wired up -and with huge painted marbles bulging from -the sockets for eyes. It was a startling if not -life-like creature.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Armed with this, I started after dark to the -trap, and soon had all in readiness for my victim. -I coiled the “boa” into the rear of the -box and placed the head near the opening of -the trap. The “figure-of-four” triggers were -laid outside in such a way as to suggest that -the trap had been sprung by an animal. Then -I went home.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The next morning I went to school without -visiting the spot, fearing I might meet -with the supposed offender. All day long I -wondered. No boy had any marvellous tale -to tell and no one looked at all guilty. There -soon came over me a feeling that perhaps I -had played a trick upon myself, and by sundown -I was rather reluctant to determine if -anything had happened; but go I did. The -trap had evidently been disturbed. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>“boa” with the rabbit’s head was lying at full -length outside and the bushes were broken as -if a bull had rushed through them. But who -or what had been there?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Two days of most distressing doubt passed, -and then came Saturday. I was ill at ease and -took no pleasure in my holiday; but about -noon our neighbor came over, and I heard -him tell grandfather how, on Fifth-day, while -the family were at breakfast, Bill, the bound -boy, came rushing into the room and exclaimed, -excitedly, “Something from the -menagerie’s broke loose and got in the rabbit-trap!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>I had had my revenge.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A wood, to be at its best, should be located -on the shore of a lake or river, or, perhaps -better still, a river should run through it. -Here are my impressions of such a wood, from -my note-book of 1892, under date of May 1:</p> - -<p class='c001'>Nothing could have been more fitting than -to take a May-day outing at such a place. -The swift current of the Great Egg Harbor -River rolled resistlessly along, its waters black -as night, save where, over the pebbly shallows, -it gleamed like polished amber. The -wind that swayed the tall crowns of the towering -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>pines made fitting music, according well -with the rippling laugh of the fretted river, -while heard above all were the joyous songs -of innumerable warblers.</p> - -<p class='c001'>We had placed our boat upon a wagon six -miles below our point of departure, and partly -realized on our way what this pine region -really was. The cedar swamp, the oak -openings, the arbutus that gave color to the -narrow wagon-track, the absence of man’s -interference,—all tended to give us the full -significance of that most suggestive word, wilderness. -We needed but to catch a glimpse -of an Indian to see this part of creation precisely -as it was in pre-Columbian days. I -sat for some time in the boat before taking up -the anchor. This was but the entrance, I -was told, to spots more beautiful, but it was -hard to believe. Here was a river hidden in -a forest, and what more could one wish? -The warblers well knew that May-day had -come again, and every one of the mighty -host greeted the brilliant sunshine. There -seemed literally to be hundreds of them. -Flashing like gems were redstarts, light as -swallows upon the wing. Bright-spotted -warblers, and others sombre gray, laughed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>as they tarried on the trembling twigs; then, -mounting into the sunlight, sang loudly as -they flew, or darted into gloomy nooks so -hidden that not even a sunbeam could follow -them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The river with its attendant birds could -not claim all the merit; the land was no less -beautiful. The oaks were not yet in leaf, -but there was no lack of green. The holly’s -foliage was bright as May, the polished -leaves of the tea-berry shone as a midsummer -growth, the ink-berry had defied the winter’s -storms, and the maples glowed as a great ruddy -flame. Really distinct as was every object, -yet, as a whole, the outlook was dreary, hazy, -half obscure, as we looked directly into the -wood, where the drooping moss festooned -the branches of the smaller oaks.</p> - -<p class='c001'>No voyager ever set forth from so fair a -port.</p> - -<p class='c001'>My companion knew the route, and with -an oar he took his place astern to guide the -boat safely down the swift stream. It was -all right as it proved, but at times I forgot -that I had come to see the forest. Instead, -an element of doubt as to the guide’s ability -came painfully to the front. With devilish -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>malignancy, as I thought, trees had prostrated -themselves and rested just beneath the water’s -surface, or stood up, with outreached arms, -as if defying us. How we passed many a -crook and turn I cannot now remember. I -was too much occupied with desperately -clutching at anything within reach to notice -the “when” or “how,” but there still remains -the delicious sensation of suddenly -shooting into smooth water and feeling—brave -as a lion.</p> - -<p class='c001'>For several miles on either side of the -stream we had a typical mixed forest. The -willow-oak predominated at times, and the -delicate foliage, so unlike other oaks, was very -beautiful. The leaves appeared translucent in -the bright sunlight, fairly sparkled, and once -made a splendid background to scarlet tanagers -that flashed through them. In this long reach -of dense woods there were fewer birds than at -our starting-point, or perhaps they held back -as we passed. But other life was not wanting. -From many a projecting stump there slid -many a turtle into the dark waters, and a mink -or musk-rat crossed our bow. Careful search -would no doubt have revealed numerous creatures, -for here was a safe retreat for all the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>fauna of the State. The deer are not yet quite -gone, possibly a few bears remain. Certainly -the raccoon and otter must be abundant. I -was constantly on the lookout for minks, for -the river abounds in fish. This animal is -sometimes mistaken for a huge snake, as it -rises several inches above the water at times, -and has then a rather startling appearance. -An old fisherman on Chesapeake Bay told me -that he had seen a mink with a huge eel in its -mouth come to the surface, and then the -wriggling fish and long, lithe body of the -mink together looked like two serpents fighting. -I can readily imagine it. Birches, -liquidambars, and pines in clusters would -next command attention, and usually there -was a dense undergrowth. Holding the boat, -at times, we could hear the water rushing -through the roots of this tangled mass, and -found that what we had supposed was firm -land afforded no certain footing, and a bluff -of firm earth was very welcome when we -thought of landing for a hasty lunch. This -<em>firm</em> earth did indeed support us, but in reality -it was the most unstable of shifting sands, -being held in place by reindeer-moss, partridge-berry, -and other pine-barren growths. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>Nothing was in sight but the scrubby pines, -and we had to be very careful that our fire -did not get among the “needles” and dash -through the woods. I found here absolutely -no birds. They seem all to prefer the tracts -covered by deciduous trees; but insect-feeders -could have flourished here. The steam of -our dinner-pot brought more substantial forms -than mosquitoes, one house-fly being determined -to share my Frankfurter and successfully -defying all attempts at capture.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Again afloat, we soon came to the mouth -of an inflowing stream called Dead River, -said to be very deep. This point was perhaps -the wildest of all. The open water -here was very wide, and a forest of projecting -stumps of various heights showed plainly that -we were on the edge of an area of drowned -land. In the distance was an unbroken background -of pines, which now looked black. At -wide intervals could be seen huge pines -that had escaped the charcoal-burner or lumberman. -The stems and lower branches -were, of course, concealed, but in the hazy -atmosphere the tops were as floating islands -of darkest green, standing boldly out against -the pearly sky behind them.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>Here, at the mouth of Dead River, we beheld -a pretty sight. A wood-duck with her -brood rushed over the water in a most lively -manner, flecking the black expanse with -patches of white foam. Such incidents add -much to such a journey. An empty forest -is as forbidding as an empty house.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the coves there were changes from the -surrounding scenery that were not to be overlooked. -A rank growth of golden-club resting -on the dark waters was very striking. -The picture was such as we see on a Claude -Lorrain glass. Near by fresh sphagnum in -a shallow pool was bronze and green: a place -for frogs to squat unseen, but I could find none. -How often this happens! At the very places -where we think animal life will be in abundance -we can find no trace of it. Then, looking -up, we see but trees. No break in the -line that hems us in. Trees old and young, -trees living and dead, great and small; nothing -but trees.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The wind freshened as the day grew old, -and doubly troubled were the waters. There -was no rest for them now, even in sheltered -nooks, and it was only by sturdy strokes of -the oars that we made headway at all. There -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>was no perceptible current to bear us along as -before. The waves dashing against the bare -trunks of trees long dead and now bent by the -wind added much to the wild scene. Novel -as it all was, I could not quite enjoy it. It -was something to be contemplated from the -shore, I thought. I know I was laughed at, -but the many “blind” stumps, or those just -beneath the surface, of which my companion -spoke so unconcernedly came too prominently -to mind when I least expected them, -and added much significance to the fact that -I cannot swim.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As we neared home the scene abruptly -changed, and the river was lost in a wide expanse -that might be called a lake if the fact -was not so evident that it is a mill-pond. -This, however, did not detract from the -beauty of the surroundings, and before our -final landing we drew up to a bold bit of -shore and searched, while it was yet day, for -pyxie. There was an abundance of blooming -andromeda, too, and arbutus, with clubmoss -of richest green. I almost placed my -hand on a centipede that glowed like an emerald. -It was resting on ruddy sphagnum, -and made a splendid picture. I could not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>capture the creature. An attempt to do so -on my part was followed by its disappearance -with a suddenness that could be likened only -to the flashes of light that played upon its -back. Here I heard many frogs, but could -find none. The rattle and peep were not -like the voices of those in the meadows at -home, and I wondered about Cope’s new -tiger-frog and the little green hyla that is so -rare here in Jersey. Possibly I heard them -both; probably not.</p> - -<p class='c001'>We returned to prosy life when the boat -was lifted over the dam, and the incidents -were few and commonplace in the short drift -that carried us to an old wharf, a relic of the -last century.</p> - -<p class='c014'>What a difference between such a forest -and a few hundred oaks and ashes at home! -and yet these are far better than treeless fields. -It is these few trees that hold many of our -migratory birds, and through them, in spring, -troop the north-bound warblers. In the -gloaming a small tract of woodland widens -out, and, seeing no open country beyond, -what does it matter, if we walk in a circle, -whether it be one acre or one thousand? -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>There is good philosophy in “Small favors -thankfully received.” Here in this little wood -are beautiful white-footed mice, a shy, nocturnal -jerboa, flying-squirrels, and, if I mistake -not, a whole family of opossums. Here, -until autumn, are wood-robins that never -weary us by overmuch singing, and cat-birds, -chewinks, and the rose-breasted grosbeak. I -do not complain, but as the summer passes I -regret that these birds have their appointed -time and will soon be gone. Why so soon? -I often wonder, for their haunts do not lose -their loveliness for weeks after they have disappeared.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>No wall of green above, about,</div> - <div class='line in2'>They silently steal away;</div> - <div class='line'>With but a carpet of withered leaves,</div> - <div class='line in2'>The minstrel will not stay.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>But the spot is no “banquet-hall deserted,” -for all that; the departure of the summer -birds is but to make way for those who have -gladdened Canadian woods for many weeks. -The purple finch will soon be here, and tree-sparrows -in great companies, and the gentle -white-throat; and these, with our stately -cardinal for a leader, will hold forth melodiously, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>though the north winds blow and the -angry east wind brings the snow upon its -wings.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the smile of winter sunshine there will -be enacted another drama, but now it is -comedy rather than tragedy. There are no -conflicting interests now, no serious quarrels, -no carking cares—the world is really in good -humor and our days of early darkness are -misunderstood.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Let him who doubts—and there are but -few who do not—turn from the worn lines -of travel, go well out of the beaten path, -and find, in the way-side nooks his neighbors -have neglected, most excellent company: -birds of brave heart that can sing in the teeth -of a storm; and many a creature, wrapped in -his furry coat, laughs at the earnest efforts of -winter to keep him from his outings.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Did I dare sit in this same oak when the -leaves have fallen, I should have strange tales -to tell,—tales so strange that the summertide -would be commonplace in comparison.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch02' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>SECOND</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Second: a Hunt For the Pyxie'><em>A HUNT FOR THE PYXIE</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> -<p class='drop-capa0_3_0_5 c017'>No storm raged to defeat a long-cherished -plan, and we must laugh at threatening -clouds or miss many an outing. In -dreams the pyxie had been blooming for -weeks, and to prove that not all dreams go -by contraries, I started on a flower-hunt. -This is not always so tame and adventureless -a matter as one might think. There are -wood-blooms that scorn even a trace of man’s -interference, and the pyxie is one of them. -Nature alone can provide its wants, and only -where Nature holds undisputed sway can it -be found. To find this beautiful flower we -must plunge into the wilderness.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was a long tramp, but never wanting a -purpose for every step taken. Each turn -in the path offered something new, and if -ever for a moment a trace of weariness was -felt, it was because even to our hungry eyes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>the wilderness was overfull. Bewildering -multitudes are more to be feared than possible -dangers. There is no escape from the -former. Not a tree or bush, not a bird or -blossom, but to-day offered excellent reason -why with them we should spend our time; -and how often they all spoke at once!</p> - -<p class='c001'>Except the ceaseless rattle of small frogs, -there was no sound, for that sad sighing of the -tall pines seems but the rhythmic breathing -of silence; or, passing from the wet grounds -to the higher, drier, and more barren tracts, -we heard only the crisp crackling of the -reindeer-moss we crushed at every step. -Although</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“It is the bright day that brings forth the adder,</div> - <div class='line'>And that craves wary walking,”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c018'>we gave no thought to possible danger,—for -rattlesnakes are still to be found. Not even -when we stooped to pick the bright berries -of winter-green did we think of a coiled serpent -buried in dead leaves; and what opportunity -for murder the serpent had as we -buried our faces in pillows of pink and pearly -arbutus!</p> - -<p class='c001'>At last we reached South River (in Southern -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>New Jersey), and just here was no place -to tarry, unless to court melancholy. It was -not required that my companion should enumerate -the reasons why the one-time farm -along the river-bank had been abandoned. -A glance at the surrounding fields told the -whole story. There was, indeed, barrenness,—and -very different, this, from what obtains -in localities near by to which the same -term is applied. In the so-called pine barrens -there is a luxuriant vegetation; but here about -the deserted house and out-building there -was nothing but glistening sand, moss, and -those pallid grasses that suggest death rather -than life, however feeble. And how widely -different is it to be surrounded by ruin -wrought by man, and to be in a forest where -man has never been! Could I not have -turned my back upon the scene and looked -out only upon the river, the day’s pleasure -would have vanished. But we were soon -away, and a naturalist’s paradise was spread -before us. What constitutes such a place? -Not necessarily one where man has never -been: it will suffice if Nature has withstood -his interference; and this is true of these -pine barrens, this weedy wilderness, this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>silent battle-field where the struggle for existence -never ceases, and yet, as we see it, -peaceful as the fleecy clouds that fleck an -April sky.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Though the wind that swept the wide -reach of waters close at hand still smacked -of wintry weather, there was a welcome -warmth on shore. The oaks even hinted of -the coming leaf. Their buds were so far -swollen that the sharp outlines of bare twigs -against the sky were rounded off. The ruddy -stems of the blueberry bushes gave to the -river-bank a fire-like glow, and yet more -telling was the wealth of bright golden glow -where the tall Indian grass waved in all its -glory. The repellent desolation of midwinter, -so common to our cold-soil upland -fields, was wholly wanting here; for, while -nothing strongly suggested life as we think -of it, even in early spring, yet nothing recalled -death, the familiar feature of a midwinter -landscape.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The scattered cedars were not gloomy to-day. -Their green-black foliage stood out in -bold relief, a fitting background to the picture -of Spring’s promises. That the sea was not -far off is evident, for even here, a dozen miles -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>from the ocean, many of these trees were bent -and squatty at the top, as are all those that -face the fury of storms along the coast. -Every one harbored north-bound migrating -birds; restless, warbling kinglets principally. -No other tree seemed to attract these pretty -birds, many a flock passing by scores of oaks -to the next cedar in their line of march. -The clustered pines were not similarly favored, -not a bird of any kind appearing about -them, and life of all kinds was wholly absent -in the long aisles between their stately trunks. -Our path led us through one great grove -where every tree grew straight and tall as a -ship’s mast. The light that filled this wood -was strangely beautiful. Nothing stood out -distinctly. To have passed here in the gloaming -would have tried weak nerves. Even in -the glare of noonday my imagination was abnormally -active, every stunted shrub and -prostrate log assuming some startling shape. -Think of such a place after sunset! Let an -owl whoop in your ears when hedged in by -thick-set trees! Philosophize as one will in -daylight, it goes for little now, and the days -of Indians, cougars, and all ill-natured beasts -come trooping back. This distrust of darkness -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>is not mere cowardice, and I would -accept no one’s statement that he is wholly -free of it. Every sound becomes unduly -significant when we are alone in a wilderness; -often unpleasantly so, even during the day, -and</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in2'>“in the night, imagining some fear,</div> - <div class='line'>How easy is a bush supposed a bear!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>Out of the pines and into the oak woods: -the change was very abrupt, and as complete -as possible. Every feature of the surroundings -was bathed in light now, and the emergence -from the pine forest’s gloom restored -our spirits. We are ever craving variety, and -there was positive beauty in every stunted -oak’s ugliness, and from them we needed but -to turn our heads to see thrifty magnolias -near the river-bank. These have no special -enemy, now that the beavers are gone, and -thrive in the black mud by the water’s edge; -better, by far, than the gum-trees near them, -for these were heavy laden with pallid mistletoe,—to -me a most repugnant growth.</p> - -<p class='c001'>We reached open country at last, and here -were birds without number. How quickly -all else fades at such a time! The whole -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>valley trembled with the ringing whistle of -a thousand red-wings. A few swallows—the -first of their kind to return—darted over the -wide waters and rested on projecting branches -of trees that floods had stranded on the -islands. The sprightly kill-deers ran with -such dainty steps over the sand that I could -not find their footprints. They, too, were -pioneer birds, but none the less light-hearted -because alone. They sang with all their last -year’s earnestness, scattering music among -the marshes where frogs were now holding -high carnival. They were very tame, at -least so far as we were concerned, but a little -in doubt as to what a stray hawk might be -about. But they left us only to make room -for others, and whether we looked riverward -or landward mattered not: it was birds, birds, -birds! Here a hundred sparrows in an oak, -there a troop of snow-birds in the bushes, a -whistling titmouse sounding his piercing -notes, the plaintive bluebird floating overhead, -the laugh of the loon at the bend -of the river, and buzzards searching for -stranded herring where the seine had been -drawn.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A flock of herons, too, passed overhead, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>and, had they not seen us, might have stopped -here on the river-shore. What an addition -to a landscape! and yet now so seldom seen. -No birds can be more harmless than they, -yet not even the hawks are subject to greater -persecution. Not long since these birds -were abundant, and a “heronry” was one of -the “sights” of many a neighborhood; but -people now scarcely know what a “heronry” -is. The very word suggests how rapidly our -large birds are disappearing, and their roosting-places, -where hundreds gathered and -nested, too, in season, are matters of “ancient -history.” In fear and trembling, the herons -that linger about our watercourses singly -seek secluded trees wherein to rest, and, I -fear, even then sleep with one eye open. A -fancy, on the part of women, for heron -plumes has wrought a deal of mischief.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But where is the pyxie? We knew it -must be near at hand, but why make haste -to find it? All else was so beautiful here, -why not wait even until another day? The -river-bank was itself a study. At the top, -sand of snowy whiteness; then a ribbon of -clay over which water trickled carrying iron -in solution, that was slowly cementing a sand -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>stratum beneath, where every degree of density -could be found, from solid rock to a -paste-like mass that we took pleasure in -moulding into fantastic shapes, thereby renewing -our dirt-pie days.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A little later in the year, this bluff, now -streaked and spotted, will be green with the -broad-leaved sundews, curious carnivorous -plants that here take the place of grasses. -There is a filiform sundew that grows near -by, where the ground is high, if not dry; but -it, too, waits for warmer days. Not so the -pyxie. Almost at first glance, as we left the -bluff, we saw it, sparkling white, nestled -among the gray mats of reindeer-moss, or -fringed by shining winter-green still laden -with its crimson fruit.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Here the earth was strangely carpeted. -Sphagnum, beautiful by reason of rich color, -gray-green moss, and the object of our long -tramp,—pyxie. No botany does it justice, -passing it by with the mere mention of its -barbarous name, <span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Pyxidanthera barbulata</em></span>. It -might be thought the meanest of all weeds, -but is, in truth, the chiefest glory of this -wonderful region.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Is it strange we regretted that Time would -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>not slacken his pace? I know not where -else, in these northern regions, so much is to -be seen, and so soon. Spring, elsewhere, is -the round year’s strangest child, often too -forward, and too often backward; but her -accomplishments here and now are beyond -criticism. Such perfect work, and yet she -is not out of her teens. The day was -April 1.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch03' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>THIRD</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Third: the Coming of the Birds'><em>THE COMING OF THE BIRDS</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>The moon in April is an important factor -in the progress of that event—the -coming of the birds—which makes every -spring memorable. While not disposed to -wait upon it too long, still, there is little doubt -but that the birds that have been wintering -afar south travel very largely by its light, and -when it happens that the moon fulls between -the middle and the twenty-fifth of the month, -the flights of thrushes, orioles, wrens, and -other migrants reach us a week earlier than -when the nights are dark during the same -period. Temperature, storms, and general -backwardness of the season do not seem to -have a like importance in bird economy.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Of course, by the coming of the birds I -do not refer to the pioneers that are in advance -of every company. Indeed, I have -seldom announced the first of the season, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>I have been met by the man who was at least -one day ahead of me; so firstlings are not -favorites.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There is every year the one memorable -morning when we can say, in broad terms, -“The birds are here.” When the oriole -whistles from the tallest tree in the lawn; -when the wren chatters from the portal of -his old-time home; when the indigo-finch -sings in the weedy pasture; when lisping -warblers throng every tree and shrub; while -over all, high in air, the twittering swallows -dart in ecstasy; and at last, the day-long concert -over, whippoorwills in the woods pipe -their monotonous refrain. The Indians were -right: when there came such days as this, -they had no further fear of frost, and we need -have but little. Our climate certainly has -changed slightly since their time, but we have -in such a bird-full day an assurance that the -clinging finger-tips of Winter have at last relaxed -and his hold upon our fields and forests -is lost.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A word again of the advance guard. The -brown thrush came on the seventeenth of the -month (April, 1892), when there were no -leafy thickets and the maples only were in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>bloom. What a glorious herald he proved! -and so he always proves. Before the sun was -up I heard him in my dreams, and later the -fancy proved a fact. Perched at the very top -of an old walnut-tree, where the wintry world -was spread before him, he sang that song -peculiarly his own.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>No hint of blushing roses on the hill,</div> - <div class='line in2'>The buds are sleeping yet upon the plain,</div> - <div class='line'>The blight of dreary winter clingeth still,</div> - <div class='line in2'>The forest weeps where falls the chilly rain.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Scarce hopeful leaf-buds shrink—death’s solemn hush</div> - <div class='line in2'>Rests on the field, the meadow brook along,</div> - <div class='line'>Till breaks the day, O happy day! the thrush</div> - <div class='line in2'>Foretells the coming summer in a song.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>Two days later it was almost summer, and -tripping along the river’s pebbly beach were -spotted sand-pipers. They were ahead of -time this year, I thought, but none the less -happy because the trees were bare and the -water cold; but, stranger still, in the sheltered -coves of the mill-pond, that now reflected -the gold of the spice-wood and the crimson -of the overhanging maples, there were warblers, -merry as in midsummer, and a pair, at -least, of small thrushes. A bittern, too, stood -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>in the weedy marsh. There they had -gathered on that sunny, summery day, as if -warm weather was an established fact; but -how different the next morning, when a cold -north-east storm prevailed! How well it -showed that one such sunny day does not -make a season! How clearly it proved that -birds have no prophetic insight! They were -caught and suffered and disappeared. Did -they fly above the clouds and go to some -distant point, free of chilling rain, or did -they hide in the cedar swamps? This problem -I did not essay to solve. In the few -cedars along the river-shore I found nothing -but winter residents, but I made no careful -search. A few days later and spring-like -conditions again prevailed and every day some -new bird was seen, but not until May 1 -could we say, “The birds have come.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>These uncertain April days are not disappointing. -We are not warranted in expecting -much of them, and whatsoever we -do meet with is just so much more than we -had reason to look for,—an added bit of good -luck that increases our love for the year’s -fourth month; but if no migrant came, there -is little likelihood that the pastures and rivershore -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>would be silent. There never was an -April that had not its full complement of -robins and blithe meadow-larks, of glorious -crested tits and gay cardinals, of restless -red-wings and stately grakles, and these are -quite equal to driving dull care away, and -keeping it away, if the migrants did not -come at all. Even in March, and early in -the month, we often have a foretaste of abundant -bird-life; an intimation of what a few -weeks will bring us. A bright March morning -in 1893 was an instance of this. I walked -for miles along the river-bank with a learned -German who was enthusiastic about everything -but what interested me. This may -not seem to be a promising outlook, but we -undertook to convert each other. I was to -give up my frivolity, he determined. My -effort was to get his dry-as-dust whimsies out -of him. The great ice-gorge of the past -winter was now a torrent of muddy waters -and huge cakes of crystal that rushed and -roared not only through the river’s channel, -but over half the meadow-land that bordered -it. It was, I admit, an excellent opportunity -to study the effects of such occurrences, for -to them is due the shaping of the valley, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>and gravel transportation, and all that; but -then there was the effect of light and shade -upon the wonderful scene, and beauty like -this crowded out my taste for geology. The -sky was darkly blue, flecked with great -masses of snow white-cloud that drifted -between the sun and earth, casting shadows -that blackened the ice and brought winter -back again; but a moment later a flood of -sunshine as promptly changed all, and the -bluebirds hinted of spring. Then, too, the -gulls and crows screamed above the roar and -crunching of the ice as it struck the scattered -trees, while in every sheltered nook was a -full complement of song-sparrows. Why any -one should bother about geology at such a -time I could not see; but my companion -was intent upon problems of the ice age, and -continually remarked, “Now, if” or “Don’t -you see?” but I always cut him short with -“See that crow?” or “Hear that sparrow?” -No, he had not seen or heard the birds, and -neither had I his particular impressions. -At last the sunshine broke upon him, and -he laughed aloud when he saw the crows -trying to steal a ride on ice-rafts that continually -upset. I was hopeful now, and he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>soon heard the birds that sang, and whistled -after a long line of kill-deer plover that hurried -by, every one calling to his fellows. It -was something to know that the coming of -the birds can rouse a German out of his -everlasting problems. He had more to say -of the springtide so near at hand than had I, -and, nosing over the ground, found nine -vigorous plants in active growth, and spoke -so learnedly of <span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Cyperus</em></span>, <span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Galium</em></span>, <span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Allium</em></span>, and -<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Saponaria</em></span> that I as glibly thought, in jealous -mood, “Confound him!” for now he was -taking possession of my province and showing -me my littleness; but then I had dragged -him out of his problems.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The truth is, I was in something like -despair when we started out, for I feared a -lecture on physical geography, and, indeed, -did not quite escape; but the bitter was well -mixed with the sweet, and he in time listened -with all my ardor to the birds that braved the -boisterous wind and were not afraid of a river -wilder than they had ever seen before. The -day proved to be of more significance than as -regards mere glacial geology. It was a foretaste -of what was coming in April. I drew -a glowing picture of what our April meant, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>and pictured a peaceful river and violets -and meadow blossoms as bright as they were -fragrant. My learned friend smiled, then -grew enthusiastic; must come again to see -the birds as they arrived, and—must I say -it?—spoke of beer. Alas! it was Sunday.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There are two reasons why April birds are -particularly attractive. One is, there are -fewer of them, and again, there is practically -no foliage to conceal them. Better one bird -in full view than a dozen half hidden. Their -songs, too, have a flavor of novelty, and ring -so assuringly through the leafless woods. The -ear forever bends graciously to promises, even -though we know they will be broken; but -birds, unlike men, are not given to lying. -When they promise May flowers and green -leaves they mean it, and, so far as history records, -there has never been a May without -them, not even the cold May of 1816, when -there was ice and snow. But aside from their -singing, April birds offer the opportunity of -studying their manners, which is better to -know than the number of their tail-feathers -or the color of their eggs. The brown -thrush that sings so glibly from the bare -branch of a lonely tree shows now, by his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>way of holding himself and pointing his tail, -that he is closely akin to the little wrens and -their big cousin, the Carolina mocker, so -called, which does not mock at all. Of all -our April birds, I believe I love best the -chewink, or swamp-robin. To be sure, he -is no more a feature of April than of June, and -many are here all winter; but when he scatters -the dead leaves and whistles his bi-syllabic -refrain with a vim that rouses an echo, or -mounts a bush and sings his few notes of real -music, we forget that summer is only on the -way, but not yet here. Of all our birds, I -always fancied this one was most set in his -singing, as he surely is in his ways; but -Cheney tells us that "this bird, like many -others, can extemporize finely when the spirit -moves him. For several successive days one -season a chewink gave me very interesting -exhibitions of the kind. He fairly revelled -in the new song, repeating it times without -number. Whether he stole it from the first -strain of ‘Rock of Ages’ or it was stolen from -him or some of his family, is a question yet -to be decided." Now, the chewink is a bird -of character, and, above all things, dislikes -interference, and he sings “for his own -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>pleasure, for he frequently lets himself out -lustily when he knows he is all alone,” as -Dr. Placzeck has said of birds in general. I -shall never forget a little incident I once witnessed, -in which a chewink and a cardinal -grosbeak figured. They reached the same -bush at the same moment, and both started -their songs. The loud whistle of the red-bird -quite smothered the notes of the chewink, -which stopped suddenly before it was -through and, with a squeak of impatience, -made a dash at the intruder and nearly knocked -him off his perch. Such haps and mishaps -as these—and they are continually occurring—can -only be seen in April or earlier, when -we can see through the woods, and not merely -the outer branches of the trees when in leaf. -In April we can detect, too, the earliest -flowers, and they fit well with the songs of -the forerunning birds. There is more, I -think, for all of us in an April violet than in -a June rose; in a sheltered bit of turf with -sprouting grass than in the wide pastures a -month later. We do not hurry in-doors at -the sudden coming of an April shower. -The rain-drops that cling to the opening -leaf-buds are too near real gems not to be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>fancied a veritable gift to us, and we toy -with the baubles for the brief moment that -they are ours. The sunshine that follows -such a shower has greater magic in its touch -than it possesses later in the year; the buds of -the morning now are blossoms in the afternoon, -so quickening is the warmth of the first -few days of spring. The stain of winter is -washed away by an April shower, and the -freshest green of the pasture is ever that -which is newest. There is at times a subtle -element in the atmosphere that the chemist -calls “ozone,” but a better name is “snap.” -It dwells in April sunshine and is the inveterate -foe of inertia. It moves us, whether we -will or not, and we are now in a hurry even -when there is no need of haste. The -“spring fever” that we hear of as a malady -in town never counts as its victim the lover -of an April outing. The beauty of novelty -is greater than the beauty of abundance. Our -recollection of a whole summer is but dim at -best, but who forgets the beginnings thereof? -We passed by unheeding many a sweet song -before the season was over, but can recall, -I venture to say, our first glimpse of the -returning spring. Though the sky may be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>gray, the earth brown, and the wind out of -the north, let a thrush sing, a kinglet lisp, -a crested tit whistle, and a tree-sparrow chirp -among the swelling leaf-buds, and you have -seen and heard that which is not only a delight -in itself, but the more pleasing that it -is the prelude announcing the general coming -of the birds.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch04' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>FOURTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Fourth: the Building of the Nest'><em>THE BUILDING OF THE</em> <br /> <em>NEST</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>There are probably very few children -who are not more or less familiar -with birds’ nests, for they are not by any -means confined to the country, but are to be -found in the shade trees of every village -street, to say nothing of the old-time lilac -hedges, gooseberry bushes, and homely shrubbery -of fifty years ago. Even in our large -cities there are some few birds brave enough -to make their homes in or very near the -busiest thoroughfares. As an instance, it -was not so long ago that a yellow-breasted -chat—a shy bird—nested in the yard of the -Pennsylvania Hospital, at the corner of Eighth -and Spruce Streets, Philadelphia, and soon -learned to mimic many a familiar street sound. -Such instances as these were more common -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>before the unfortunate blunder of introducing -the English sparrow. But it is in the country -only that we find boys really posted in the -matter of nests, and I wish I could add that -they always adopt the rules of “hands -off” when these nests come under their -notice. It means far more mischief than -most people think to disturb a nest, and so -let every boy decide that he will not be -guilty of such wanton cruelty. This, however, -does not shut off every boy and girl in -the land from studying these nests, and a -more delightful subject can never come under -youthful investigation.</p> - -<p class='c001'>What is a bird’s nest? Every one knows, -after a fashion, and yet few have ever considered -how much that bunch of twigs, hollow -in a tree, or hole in the ground really -means. Like so much that is familiar, we -glance at it in a careless way and never stop -to consider its full significance. Except in a -very few instances, a bird’s nest is never the -result of a single individual’s labor. Even -if but one bird does all the work, there has -previously been a decision reached by two -birds as to where the nest shall be placed, and -how much this means! At once we are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>brought to consider that an interchange of -thought has taken place. The pair have -discussed, literally, the merits and drawbacks -of the situation, and have had in mind not -only their own safety, but that of their offspring. -The fact that they make mistakes -at times proves this. Were this not the -case, or if nests were placed hap-hazard in -any tree or bush or anywhere on the ground, -bird enemies would have a happy time for a -short season, and then birds, like many of the -world’s huge beasts, would become extinct. -On the contrary, birds have long since -learned to be very careful, and their ingenuity -in this apparently simple matter of choosing -a nest site is really astonishing. This, -too, has resulted in quickening their wits in -all directions, and the bird that is really a -booby is scarcely to be found.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Birds suffer at times from their misjudgment -or over-confidence, and this, it must be -added, reflects upon us. The instances are -numberless where birds have quickly learned -that certain people love them, and they lose -all fear. Again, naturally very timid birds -soon learn when they are free from persecution. -The writer frequently passes in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>cars by a zoological garden on the bank of -a river, and has been impressed with the -abundant illustration of birds’ intelligence to -be noticed there. The crows have learned -that fire-arms are not allowed to be used anywhere -near, and so they fearlessly hop about -not only the enclosure of the garden, but the -many tracks of the railroad just outside, -showing no timidity even when the locomotives -rush by. Stranger still, wild ducks -gather in the river almost directly under the -railroad bridge, and do not always dive out -of sight as the trains pass by, and I have -never seen them take wing, even when the -whistle blew the quick, short, penetrating -danger signal.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To come back to their nests: birds have -other enemies than man to guard against, and -so are never in a hurry in the matter of determining -where to build. Time and again a location -has been discovered to be unsuitable after -a nest has been commenced, and the structure -abandoned. I have observed this many times. -Indeed, my own curiosity has led the birds -to move, they not quite approving my constant -watching of what was going on. I well -remember seating myself once in a shady -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>nook to eat my lunch, and being almost -attacked by a pair of black-and-white tree-creeping -warblers. Their actions were plainly -a protest against my staying where I was, -and on looking about, I found that I had -almost sat upon their nest, which was then -just completed, but contained no eggs. I -visited the spot the next day and found a -single egg; but my coming was a mistake, -for the birds now believed I had sinister designs, -and abandoned their new-made home.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The method of building, of course, varies -as much as the patterns of nests. Even -when the same materials are used, they are -differently treated, and a nest of sticks only -may in one case be merely thrown together, -as it were, while in another they are so carefully -interlaced that the structure is a basket, -and holds together if held by the rim only. -Another, the same in general appearance, -would immediately fall to pieces if similarly -treated. A reason for this is discoverable in -some cases, but not in all. If we examine a -great many nests, the rule will hold good, I -think, that where they are very loosely put together, -the locality is such that no natural disturbing -causes, as high winds, are likely to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>bring disaster. Until I studied this point the -occurrence of exceedingly frail nests was ever a -matter of surprise, for it is to be remembered -that the same species, as a cat-bird or cardinal -red-bird, does not build after a uniform -fashion, but adapts its work to the spot -chosen for the nest. It would be very hazardous -to say that a nest was built by this or -that bird, unless the builder was seen in -possession.</p> - -<p class='c001'>So difficult is it to watch a pair of birds -while building, that the method of their working -is largely to be guessed at from the work -itself, but by means of a field-glass a good -deal can be learned. It would appear as if -a great many twigs were brought for the -foundation of a nest, such as a cat-bird’s or -song-sparrow’s, that were unsuitable. I have -occasionally seen a twig tossed aside with a -flirt of the head very suggestive of disappointment. -The builders do not always -carry with them a distinct idea of what they -want when hunting for material, and so labor -more than would be necessary if a little wiser. -Very funny disputes, too, often arise, and these -are most frequent when wrens are finishing -their huge structures in a box or some corner -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>of an out-building. A feather, or a bit of -thread, or a small rag will be carried in by -one bird and tossed out by the other with a -deal of scolding and “loud words” that is -positively startling. But when the framework -of any ordinary open or cup-shaped -nest is finally completed, the lining is not so -difficult a matter. Soft or yielding materials -are used that to a greater or less extent have -a “felting property,” and by the bird’s weight -alone assume the shape desired. This is -facilitated by the bird in two ways: the -builder sits down, as if the eggs were already -laid, and with its beak pushes the loose material -between it and the framework, and -tucks odd bits into any too open crevices. -While doing this, it slowly moves around -until it has described a complete circle. This -brings to light any defects in the outer structure, -and the bird can often be seen tugging -away at some projecting end, or its mate, outside -of the nest, rearranging a twig here and -there, while the other bird—shall I say?—is -giving directions.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Surprise has often been expressed that the -common chipping sparrow can so neatly -curl a long horse-hair into the lining of its -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>little nest. It cannot be explained, perhaps, -but we have at least a clue to it. One end of -the hair is snugly tucked in among stouter -materials, and then,—I ask the question only,—as -the bird coils it about the sides of the -nest with its beak, does it break or dent it, or -is there some chemical effect produced by -the bird’s saliva? The hairs do not appear -to be merely dry-curled, for in that case -they would unroll when taken from the nest, -and such as I have tried, when just placed in -position, retained the coiled condition when -removed. But old hair, curled by long exposure -to the air and moisture, is often used, -and this is far more tractable. When we -come to examine woven nests, such as the -Baltimore oriole and the red-eyed vireo, as -well as some other small birds, build, there is -offered a great deal more to study, for how -they accomplish what they do, with their -only tools their feet and beak, is not wholly -known. That the tropical tailor-bird should -run a thread through a leaf and so bring the -edges together and make a conical-shaped bag, -is not so very strange. It is little more than -the piercing of the leaf and then putting the -thread through the hole. This is ingenious -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>but not wonderful, because not difficult; but -let us consider a Baltimore oriole and his -nest. The latter is often suspended from a -very slender elm or willow twig, and the bird -has a hard time to hold on while at work. -One experienced old oriole has for years built -in the elm near my door, and occasionally I -have caught a glimpse of him. I will not be -positive, but believe that his first move is to -find a good stout string, and this he ties to the -twig. I use the word “tie” because I have -found in many cases a capitally-tied knot, but -how the bird, or birds, could accomplish -this I cannot imagine. Both feet and beak, -I suppose, are brought into play, but how? -To get some insight into the matter, I once -tied a very long string to the end of a thread -that the oriole had secured at one end and -left dangling. This interference caused some -commotion, but the bird was not outwitted. -It caught the long string by its loose end and -wrapped it over and over various twigs, and -soon had a curious open-work bag that served -its purpose admirably. The lining of soft, -fluffy stuff’s was soon added. This brought up -the question as to whether the bird ever ties -short pieces together and so makes a more -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>secure cable that gives strength to the finished -nest. In examining nests, I have seen -such knots as might have been tied by the -birds, but there was no way to prove it. -That they do wrap a string several times -about a twig and then tie it, just as a boy ties -his fishing-line to a pole, is certain. With -my field-glass I have followed the bird far -enough to be sure of this. When at work, -the bird, from necessity, is in a reversed position,—that -is, tail up and head down. This -has an obvious advantage, in that the builder -can see what is going on beneath him, and -shows, too, how near the ground the nest will -come when finished; but it sometimes happens -that he gets so absorbed in his work -that a person can approach quite near, but I -never knew him to become entangled in the -loose ends that hang about him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The oriole at times offers us a wonderful -example of ingenuity. It occasionally -happens that too slight a twig is selected, -and when the nest is finished, or, later, when -the young are nearly grown, the structure -hangs down too low for safety or sways too -violently when the parent birds alight on it. -This is a difficulty the bird has to contend with, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>and he has been known to remedy it by attaching -a cord to the sustaining twigs and tying -them to a higher limb of the tree, thus -securing the necessary stability.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A more familiar evidence of the intelligence -of birds is when the vireos are disturbed by -the presence of a cow-bird’s egg in their -nest. To get rid of it, they often build a -new floor to the nest, and so leave the offending -egg to spoil. But there is displayed here -an error of judgment that I am surprised to -find. The birds that take this trouble certainly -could throw the egg out, and, I should -think, preserve their own eggs, which invariably -are left to decay when a new structure -is reared above the old. I believe even -three-storied vireos’ nests have been found.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There is one common swallow that is -found well-nigh everywhere, which burrows -into the sand; and when we think of it, it -seems strange that so aerial a bird should -build so gloomy an abode for the nesting -season. This bank swallow, as it is called, -selects a suitable bluff, facing water, and, -with closed beak, turns round and round -with its head to the ground, thus boring -a hole big enough to crawl into. It turns -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>into a gimlet for the time, and uses its beak -as the point of the tool. This is odd work -for a bird that almost lives in the air; and -then think, too, of sitting in a dark cave, -sometimes six feet long, until the eggs are -hatched. On the other hand, the barn swallow -makes a nest where there is plenty of -light and air, and is a mason rather than a -carpenter or miner. The mud he uses is -not mere earth and water, but is made more -adherent by a trace of secretion from the -bird’s mouth; at least, my experiments lead -me to think so. To build such a nest would -be slow work did not the two birds work -together and carry their little loads of mortar -with great rapidity. They waste no time, -and use only good materials, for I have -noticed them, when building, go to a quite -distant spot for the mud when a pool was -directly outside of the barn in which they -were building. To all appearance the nest -is of sun-dried mud, but the material has certainly -undergone a kind of puddling first that -makes it more adherent, bit to bit, and the -whole to the rafter or side of the building. -Again, these swallows have the knack of -carrying a little water on the feathers of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>their breasts, I think, and give the structure -a shower-like wetting from time to time. -At last the structure “sets” and is practically -permanent.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There are birds that build no nests, like -the kill-deer plover and the woodcock, and -yet they exercise a faculty of equal value intellectually; -for to be able to locate a spot -that will be in the least degree exposed to -danger is a power of no mean grade. The -kill-deer will place its eggs on sloping ground, -but somehow the heaviest dashes of rain do -not wash out that particular spot. There -are sand-pipers that lay their eggs on a bit -of dead grass, just out of reach of the highest -tides. As we look at such <em>nests</em>, we conclude -that the birds trust a great deal to good -luck; but, as a matter of fact, the destruction -of eggs when in no nests, or next to none, is -very small. Why, on the other hand, <a id='corr95.10'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='wood peckers'>woodpeckers</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_95.10'><ins class='correction' title='wood peckers'>woodpeckers</ins></a></span> -should go to such an infinity of trouble -to whittle a nest in the firm tissue of a living -tree, when a natural hollow would serve as -well, is a problem past finding out. I have -even seen a woodpecker make a new nest in -a tree which already contained one in every -respect as good.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>Going back to the fields and thickets, it -will be seen that birds, as a rule, desire that -their nests should be inconspicuous, and their -efforts are always largely in this direction in -the construction. The foliage of the tree or -bush is considered, and when not directly -concealed by this, the nest is made to look -marvellously like a natural production of the -vegetable world, as the beautiful nest of our -wood pee-wee or the humming-bird shows. -These nests are then not merely the homes -of young birds, but are places of defence -against a host of enemies. The parent birds -have no simple task set before them that can -be gone through with mechanically year after -year. Every season new problems arise, if -their favorite haunts suffer change, and every -year the birds prove equal to their solution.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch05' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>FIFTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Fifth: Corn-stalk Fiddles'><em>CORN-STALK FIDDLES</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>It is a merit of our climate that at no time -of the year are we, as children, shut out -from healthy out-door pleasure. There are -shady nooks along our creeks and rivers and -delightful old mill-ponds wherein we may -bathe in midsummer, and there are acres of -glassy ice over which to skate in midwinter. -Spring and autumn are too full of fun to particularize, -the average day being available for -scores of methods whereby to make life a -treasure beyond compare, spending it, to the -mind of a boy, in that most rational way, -having sport. I do not know why we always -played marbles at one time of the year and -flew our kites at another: this is for the -folk-lore clubs to fathom. Suffice it, that -there has been for centuries a time for every -out-door amusement as fixed as the phases of -the moon. So much for the sport common -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>to all boys. And now a word concerning an -old-time musical instrument that may be now -quite out of date,—the corn-stalk fiddle.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This very primitive musical instrument is -associated with the dreamy Indian-summer -days of late November. Then it discoursed -delicious music, but at other times it would -have been “out of tune and harsh.” Did the -Indians give the secret to the children of our -colonial forefathers? It would be a pleasing -thought whenever the toy comes to mind, as -the mere suggestion is a pleasant fancy.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The husking over, the corn-stalks carted -and stored in a huge rick by the barn-yard, -the apples gathered, the winter wood cut, and -then the long quiet, with almost nothing to do. -Such was the routine when I was a boy, and -if the uncertain, dreamy days would only -come, there was sure to be a short round of -pleasure wherein the fiddle figured more -prominently than all else.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was no small part of the fun to see Billy -make a fiddle; it was such a curious combination -of mummery and skill. Having whetted -his keen, old-fashioned Barlow knife on -the toe of his boot, he would flourish it above -his head with a whoop as though he was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>looking for an enemy instead of a corn-stalk. -Finding one that was glossy and long enough -between the joints, he would press it gently -between his lips, trying the several sections, -and then selecting the longest and most glossy -one. So much of the proceeding was for our -benefit, as the cunning old fellow well knew -that it added to his importance in our eyes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>What followed was skill. Having cut off -the stalk above and below the ring-like joints, -he had now a convenient piece about eight or -ten inches in length. This he warmed by -rubbing it violently with the palm of his -hand, and then placing the point of the knife -as near the joint as practicable, he drew it -quickly down to the next joint or lower end. -It must be a straight incision, and Billy seldom -failed to make it so. A parallel one -was then made, not more than one-sixteenth -of an inch distant. A space of twice this -width was left, and two or three more strings -were made in the same manner. These were -freed of the pith adhering to their under sides, -and held up by little wooden “bridges,” one -at each end. The bow was similarly fashioned, -but was made of a more slender section -of corn-stalk and had but two strings.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>It was indeed surprising how available this -crude production proved as a musical instrument. -Youth and the environment counted -for a great deal, of course, and my Quaker -surroundings forbidding music, it was a sweeter -joy because a stolen one.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I can picture days of forty years ago as -distinctly as though a matter of the present. -My cousin and myself, with Black Billy, -would often steal away and carry with us -one of the smaller barn doors. This we -would place in a sunny nook on the south -side of the stalk-rick, and while the fiddle -was being made, would part with our jackets -that we might dance the better. Billy was -soon ready, and with what a joyful grin, -rolling of his huge black eyes, and vigorous -contortion of the whole body would our -faithful friend draw from the corn-stalk every -note of many a quaint old tune! And how -we danced! For many a year after the old -door showed the nail-marks of our heavily-heeled -shoes where we had brought them -down with a vigor that often roused the energy -of old Billy, until he, too, would stand up and -execute a marvellous <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>pas seul</em></span>. Then, tired -out, we would rest in niches in the stalk-rick, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>and Billy would play such familiar airs as had -penetrated even into the quiet of Quakerdom. -It was no mere imitation of the music, -but the thing itself; and it would be an hour -or more before the fiddle’s strings had lost -their tension, the silicious covering had worn -away, and the sweet sounds ceased.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Almost the last of my November afternoons -passed in this way had a somewhat -dramatic ending. The fiddle was one of -more than ordinary excellence. In the -height of our fun I spied the brim of my -grandfather’s hat extending an inch or two -around the corner. I gave no sign, but -danced more vigorously than ever, and as -the music and dancing became more fast and -furious the crown of his stiff hat appeared, -and then my grandfather’s face. His countenance -was a study. Whether to give the -alarm and run or to remain was the decision -of an instant. I gave no sign, but kept one -eye on him. “Faster!” I cried to Billy, and, -to my complete astonishment, the hat moved -rapidly up and down. Grandfather was -keeping time! “Faster!” I cried again, and -the music was now a shrieking medley, and -the broad-brimmed hat vibrated wonderfully -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>fast. It was too much. I gave a wild yell -and darted off. Circling the barn and stalk-rick, -I entered the front yard with a flushed -but innocent face, and met grandpa. He, -too, had an innocent, far-away look, but his -hat was resting on the back of his head and -his checks were streaming with perspiration, -and, best of all, he did not seem to know it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Grandpa,” I asked at the supper-table -that evening, “does thee know why it is that -savage races are so given to dancing?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>"Charles," he replied, gravely, and nothing -more was said.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch06' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>SIXTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Sixth: the Old Kitchen Door'><em>THE OLD KITCHEN DOOR</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>The white porch, with its high roof and -two severely plain pillars to support it; -the heavy door, with its ponderous knocker; -the straggling sweetbrier at one side; the -forlorn yellow rose between the parlor windows; -the grass that was too cold to welcome -a dandelion; the low box hedge, and -one huge box bush that never sheltered a -bird’s nest; all these were in front to -solemnly greet that terror of my early days,—company.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To me these front-door features all meant, -and still mean, restraint; but how different -the world that lingered about the old farm-house -kitchen door! There was no cold -formality there, but freedom,—the healthy -freedom of old clothes, an old hat; ay, -even the luxury of an open-throated shirt -was allowed.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>After a tramp over the meadows, after a -day’s fishing, after the round of the rabbit-traps -in winter, what joy to enter the kitchen -door and breathe in the delectable odor of -hot gingerbread! There were appetites in -those days.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I do not understand the mechanism of a -modern kitchen: it looks to me like a small -machine-shop; but the old farm kitchen was -a simple affair, and the intricacies and mystery -lay wholly in the dishes evolved. It -is said of my grandmother that a whiff of -her sponge-cake brought the humming-birds -about. I do know there was a crackly crust -upon it which it is useless now to try to imitate.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But the door itself—we have none such -now. It was a double door in two ways. -It was made of narrow strips of oak, oblique -on one side and straight on the other, and -so studded with nails that the whole affair -was almost half metal. It was cut in two, -having an upper and a lower section. The -huge wooden latch was hard and smooth as -ivory. At night the door was fastened by -a hickory bar, which, when I grew strong -enough to lift it, was my favorite hobby-horse.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>The heavy oak sill was worn in the middle -until its upper surface was beautifully -curved, and to keep the rain out, when the -wind was south, a canvas sand-bag was rolled -against it. A stormy-day amusement was to -pull this away on the sly, and sail tiny paper -boats in the puddle that soon formed on the -kitchen floor. There was mischief in those -days.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Kitchens and food are of course inseparably -connected, and what hunting-ground for -boys equal to the closets where the cakes -were kept? I do not know that the matter -was ever openly discussed, but as I look back -it seems as if it was an understood thing -that, when our cunning succeeded in outwitting -auntie, we could help ourselves to jumbles. -Once I became a hero in this line of -discovery, and we had a picnic behind the -lilacs; but, alas! only too soon we were -pleading for essence of peppermint. Over-eating -is possible, even in our teens.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Recent raids in modern kitchen precincts -are never successful. Of late I always put -my hand in the wrong crock, and find pickles -where I sought preserves. I never fail, -now, to take a slice of a reserved cake, or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>to quarter the pie intended for the next -meal. Age brings no experience in such -matters. It is a case where we advance backward.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Of the almost endless phases of life centring -about the kitchen door there is one -which stands out so prominently that it is -hard to realize the older actor is now dead -and that of the young on-lookers few are -left. Soon after the dinner-horn was sounded -the farm hands gathered at the pump, which -stood just outside the door, and then in solemn -procession filed into the kitchen for the noonday -meal. All this was prosy enough, but -the hour’s nooning after it,—then there was -fun indeed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Scipio—“Zip,” for short—was not ill-natured, -but then who loves too much teasing? -An old chestnut burr in the grass -where he was apt to lie had made him suspicious -of me, and I had to be extra cautious. -Once I nearly overstepped the mark. Zip -had his own place for a quiet nap, and, when -stretched upon the grass under the big linden, -preferred not to be disturbed. Now it occurred -to me to be very funny. I whittled -a cork to the shape of a spider, added monstrous -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>legs, and with glue fastened a dense -coating of chicken-down over all.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was a fearful spider.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I suspended the sham insect from a limb -of the tree so that it would hang directly over -Zip’s face as he lay on the ground, and by -a black thread that could not be seen I could -draw it up or let it down at pleasure. It -was well out of sight when Zip fell asleep, -and then I slowly lowered the monster until -it tickled his nose. It was promptly brushed -aside. This was repeated several times, and -then the old man awoke. The huge spider -was just touching his nose, and one glance -was enough. With a bound and a yell he was -up and off, in his headlong flight overturning -the thoughtless cause of his terror. I -was the more injured of the two, but never -dared in after-years to ask Zip if he was -afraid of spiders.</p> - -<p class='c001'>And all these years the front door never -changed. It may have been opened daily -for aught I know, but I can remember nothing -of its history.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Stay! As befitting such an occurrence, it -was open once, as I remember, when there -was a wedding at the house; but of that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>wedding I recall only the preparations in the -kitchen for the feast that followed; and, -alas! it has been opened again and again for -funerals.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Why, indeed, should the front door be -remembered? It added no sunshine to the -child’s short summer; but around the corner, -whether dreary winter’s storm or the fiercest -heat of August fell upon it, the kitchen door -was the entrance to a veritable elysium.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch07' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>SEVENTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Seventh: Up the Creek'><em>UP THE CREEK</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>There is greater merit in the little word -“up” than in “down.” If, when in -a place new to me, I am asked to go “up the -creek,” my heart leaps, but there is less enthusiasm -when it is suggested to go down the -stream. One seems to mean going into the -country, the other into the town. All this -is illogical, of course, but what of that? -The facts of a case like this have not the -value of my idle fancies. After all, there is -a peculiar merit in going up-stream. It is -something to be going deeper and deeper into -the heart of the country. It is akin to getting -at the foundations of things.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the case of small inland streams, generally, -the mouth is a commonplace affair. -The features that charm shrink from the -fateful spot, and we are put in a condition -of anticipation at the start which, happily, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>proves one of abundant realization at the -finish.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A certain midsummer Saturday was not -an ideal one for an outing, but with most excellent -company I ventured up the creek. It -was my friend’s suggestion, so I was free from -responsibility. Having promised nothing, I -could in no wise be justly held accountable. -Vain thought! Directly I suffered in their -estimation because, at mere beck and nod, -polliwogs were not forthcoming and fishes -refused to swim into my hand. What strange -things we fancy of our neighbors! Because -I love the wild life about me, one young -friend thought me a magician who could -command the whole creek’s fauna by mere -word of mouth. It proved an empty day -in one respect, animal life scarcely showing -itself. To offer explanations was of no avail, -and one of the little company recast her -opinions. Perhaps she even entertains some -doubt as to my having ever seen a bird or -fish or the coveted polliwog.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is one thing to be able to give the name -and touch upon the habits of some captured -creature, and quite another to command its -immediate presence when we enter its haunts. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>This always should, and probably never -will, be remembered.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But what of the creek, the one-time Big-Bird -Creek of the Delaware Indians? With -ill-timed strokes we pulled our languid oars, -and passed many a tree, jutting meadow, or -abandoned wharf worthy of more than a -moment’s contemplation. But, lured by the -treasure still beyond our reach, we went on -and on, until the trickling waters of a hillside -spring proved too much for us, and, turning -our prow landward, we stopped to rest.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Among old trees that afforded grateful -shade, a spring that bubbled from an aged -chestnut’s wrinkled roots, a bit of babbling -brook that too soon reached the creek and -was lost, and, beyond all, wide-spreading -meadows, boundless from our point of view—what -more need one ask? To our credit, -be it said, we were satisfied, except, perhaps, -that here, as all along our course, polliwogs -were perverse. Birds, however, considerately -came and went, and even the shy cuckoo -deigned to reply when we imitated his dolorous -clucking. A cardinal grosbeak, too, -drew near and whistled a welcome, and once -eyed us with much interest as we sat lunching -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>on the grass. What did he think of us? Eating, -with him, is so different a matter, and perhaps -he could give us a few useful hints. The -trite remark, “Fingers came before forks,” -has a significance in the woods, if not in the -town. While eating we listened, and I heard -the voices of nine different birds. Some -merely chirped in passing, it is true, but the -marsh-wrens in the cat-tail thicket just across -the creek were not silent for a moment. -Here in the valley of the Delaware, as I recently -found them on the shores of Chesapeake -Bay, the wrens are quite nocturnal, and -I would have been glad to have heard them -sing in the moonlight again; for our enthusiasm -would have been strengthened by a few -such glimpses of the night side of Nature.</p> - -<p class='c001'>No bird is so welcome to a mid-day camp -as the white-eyed vireo, and we were fortunate -in having one with us while we tarried -at the spring. Not even ninety degrees in -the shade has any effect upon him, and this -unflagging energy reacts upon the listener. -We could at least be so far alive as to give -him our attention. Mid-day heat, however, -does affect many a song-bird, and now that -nesting is well-nigh over, the open woods -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>are deserted for hidden cool retreats, where -the songster takes its ease, as we, far from -town, are taking ours. There is much in -common between birds and men.</p> - -<p class='c001'>How, as we lingered over our glasses, -counting the lemon-seeds embedded in sugar, -we would have enjoyed a wood-thrush’s -splendid song or a rose-breasted grosbeak’s -matchless melody! but the <em>to-whee</em> of the -pipilo scratching among dead leaves, the -plaint of an inquisitive cat-bird threading -the briers, the whir of a humming-bird -vainly seeking flowers,—these did not pass -for nothing; and yet there was comparative -silence that suggested a sleeping rather than -a wakeful, active world.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Here let me give him who loves an outing -a useful hint: be not so anxious for what may -be that you overlook that which is spread before -you. More than once to-day our discussion -of the “silence” of a midsummer -noontide drowned the voices of singing-birds -near by.</p> - -<p class='c001'>How often it has been intimated to us that -"two’s company and three’s a crowd"! but -to really see and hear what transpires in the -haunts of wild life, <em>one</em> is company and <em>two’s</em> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>a crowd. We cannot heed Nature and fellow-man -at the same moment; and as to the -comparative value of their communications, -each must judge for himself.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Certainly the human voice is a sound which -animals are slow to appreciate. How often -have I stood in silence before birds and small -animals and they have shown no fear! A -movement of my arms would put them on -guard, perhaps; but a word spoken, and away -they sped. Not a bird, I have noticed, is -startled by the bellow of a bull or the neigh -of a horse, and yet my own voice filled them -with fear. Even snakes that knew me well -and paid no attention to my movements were -startled at words loudly spoken. It is a bit -humiliating to think that in the estimation of -many a wild animal our bark is worse than -our bite.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A midsummer noontide has surely some -merit, and when I failed to find fish, frog, or -salamander for my young friend, it became -necessary to point to some feature of the spot -that made it worth a visit. To my discomfiture, -I could find nothing. Trees have been -talked of overmuch, and there were no wild -flowers. The August bloom gave, as yet, only -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>a hint of what was coming. I had hit upon -a most unlucky interim during which no man -should go upon a picnic. In despair and -empty-handed, we took to our boat and started -up the creek. It was a fortunate move, for -straightway the waters offered that which I -had vainly sought for on shore. Here were -flowers in abundance. The pickerel-weed -was in bloom, the dull-yellow blossoms of the -spatterdock dotted the muddy shores, bind-weed -here and there offered a single flower as -we passed by, and never was golden-dodder -more luxuriant. Still, it is always a little disappointing -when Flora has the world to herself, -and while we were afloat it was left to -a few crows and a single heron to prove that -she had not quite undisputed sway.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Up the creek with many a turn and twist, -and now on a grassy knoll we land again, -where a wonderful spring pours a great -volume of sparkling water into the creek. -Here at last we have an object lesson that -should bear fruit when we recall the day. -Not a cupful of this clear cold water could -we catch but contained a few grains of sand, -and for so many centuries has this carrying of -sand grains been in progress that now a great -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>ridge has choked the channel where once -rode ships at anchor. An obscure back-country -creek now, but less than two centuries -ago the scene of busy industry. Perhaps -no one is now living who saw the last sail -that whitened the landscape. Pages of old -ledgers, a bit of diary, and old deeds tell us -something of the place; but the grassy knoll -itself gives no hint of the fact that upon it -once stood a warehouse. Yet a busy place it -was in early colonial times, and now utterly -neglected.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is difficult to realize how very unsubstantial -is much of man’s work. As we sat -upon the grassy slope, watching the outgoing -tide as it rippled and broke in a long -line of sparkling bubbles, I rebuilt, for the -moment, the projecting wharf, of which but -a single log remains, and had the quaint -shallops of pre-Revolutionary time riding at -anchor. There were heard, in fact, the cry -of a heron and the wild scream of a hawk; -but these, in fancy, were the hum of human -voices and the tramp of busy feet.</p> - -<div id='i116' class='figcenter id005'> -<img src='images/i_129.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic003'> -<p><em>The Old Drawbridge, Crosswick’s Creek</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c001'>The scattered stones that just peeped above -the grass were not chance bowlders rolled -from the hill near by, but the door-step and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>foundation of the one-time warehouse. The -days of buying, selling, and getting gain came -back, in fancy, and I was more the sturdy -colonist than the effeminate descendant. But -has the present no merit? We had the -summer breeze that came freighted with the -odors gathered from the forest and the stream, -and there were thrushes rejoicing in our hearing -that the hill-sides were again as Nature -made them. It meant much to us to tarry -in the shade of venerable trees spared by -the merchants that once collected here, -whose names are now utterly forgotten. -Stay! there are two reminders of ancient -glory. A beech that overhangs the brook -has its bark well scarred, and, now beyond -decipherment, there are initials of many -prominent naturalists of Philadelphia. A -few rods up-stream is another beech that has -remained unchanged. On it can be seen the -initials T. A. C., 1819; those of the celebrated -paleontologist, Conrad, born near here -in 1803.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The shadows lengthen; the cooler hours -of eventide draw on; the languid thrushes -are again abroad; music fills the air. We are -homeward bound and hurrying down-stream. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>Our minds are not so receptive as when we -started. How shrunken to a few rods is -every mile! Trees, flowers, and birds are -scarcely heeded; but the good gathered as -we went up the creek we bring away, and, -once again in the dusty village street, we -realize that we have but to turn our back -upon the town to find the world a picture.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch08' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>EIGHTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Eighth: a Winter-night’s Outing'><i>A WINTER-NIGHT’S <br /> OUTING</i></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>Not long since I was asked—and not -for the first time—if I could date the -beginning of my taste for natural history pursuits -or give any incident that appeared to -mark a turning-point in my career.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It did not seem possible to do this, on first -consideration; but a recent living over of days -gone by recalled an incident which happened -before I was eleven years old, and, as it was -almost my first regular outing that smacked of -adventure, it is probable that it impressed me -more forcibly than any earlier or, indeed, later -events.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Heavy and long-continued rains had resulted -in a freshet, and then three bitter cold -days had converted a wide reach of meadows -into a frozen lake. Happier conditions -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>could not have occurred in the small boy’s -estimation, and, with boundless anticipation, -we went skating.</p> - -<p class='c001'>After smooth ice, the foremost requirement -is abundant room, and this we had. There -was more than a square mile for each of us. -The day had been perfect and the approaching -night was such as Lowell so aptly describes, -“all silence and all glisten.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>As the sun was setting we started a roaring -fire in a sheltered nook, and securely -fastening our skates without getting at all -chilled, started off. Then the fun commenced. -We often wandered more than a -mile away, and it was not until the fire was -reduced to a bed of glowing coals that we -returned to our starting-point.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Here a great surprise awaited us. The -heat had drawn from the wooded hill-side -near by many a meadow-mouse that, moved by -the warmth or by curiosity, ventured as near -as it dared. These mice were equally surprised -at seeing us, and scampered off, but, it -seemed to me, with some show of reluctance, -as if a chance to warm themselves so thoroughly -should not be missed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>We freshened the fire a little and fell back -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>a few paces, but stood near enough to see if -the mice would return. This they did in a -few minutes, and, to our unbounded surprise -and amusement, more than one sat up on its -haunches like a squirrel. They seemed to -be so many diminutive human beings about a -camp-fire.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was a sight to give rise to a pretty fairy -tale, and possibly our Indians built up theirs -on just such incidents. These mice were, to -all appearances, there to enjoy the warmth. -There was little running to and fro, no squeaking, -not a trace of unusual excitement, and, -although it was so cold, we agreed to wait -as long as the mice saw fit to stay.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This resolution, however, could not hold. -We were getting chilled, and so had to draw -near. As we did this, there was a faint -squeaking which all noticed, and we concluded -that sentinels had been placed to warn the -congregated mice of our approach.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The spirit of adventure was now upon us, -and our skates were but the means to other -ends than mere sport. What, we thought, -of the gloomy nooks and corners where -thickets stood well above the ice? We had -shunned these heretofore, but without open -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>admission that we had any fear concerning -them. Then, too, the gloomy gullies in the -hill-side came to mind. Should we skate -into such darkness and startle the wild life -there?</p> - -<p class='c001'>The suggestion was made, and not one -dared say he was afraid.</p> - -<p class='c001'>We thought of the fun in chasing a coon -or skunk over the ice, and bravely we ventured, -feeling our way where we knew the -ice was thin and rough.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At a bend in the little brook, where a large -cedar made the spot more dark and forbidding, -we paused a moment, not knowing just how -to proceed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The next minute we had no time for -thought. A loud scream held us almost spellbound, -and then, with one dash, we sought -the open meadows.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Once there, we breathed a little freer. -We could see the fast-fading light of the -fire, and at last could flee in a known direction -if pursued. Should we hurry home? -We debated this for some time, but were -more fearful of being laughed at than of -facing any real danger, and therefore concluded, -with proper caution, to return.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>Keeping close together, we entered the -ravine again, stopped near the entrance and -kindled a fire, and then, by its light, proceeded -farther. It was a familiar spot, but -not without strange features as we now -saw it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Again we were startled by the same wild -cry, but for a moment only. A barn owl, I -think it was, sailed by, glaring at us, as we -imagined, and sought the open meadows.</p> - -<p class='c001'>We turned and followed, though why, it -would be hard to say. The owl flew slowly -and we skated furiously, trying to keep it directly -overhead. Now we were brave even -to foolhardiness, and sped away over the ice, -indifferent to the direction taken. To this -day I have credited that owl with a keen sense -of humor.</p> - -<p class='c001'>On we went, over the meadows to where -the swift but shallow creek flowed by, -and then, when too late, we knew where -we were. The ice bent beneath us, then -cracked, and in an instant we were through -it, our feet well in the mud and the water -about our necks. Just how we got out I -never knew, but we did, and the one dry -match among us was a veritable treasure. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>It did not go out at the critical moment, but -started ablaze the few twigs we hastily -gathered, and so saved us from freezing. As -we dried our clothes and warmed our benumbed -bodies, I, for one, vowed never -again to chase an owl on skates, but to go at -it more soberly. From that eventful night -the country has been attractive by reason of -its wild life. It was there I became—if -indeed I ever have become—a naturalist.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch09' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>NINTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Ninth: Wild Life in Water'><em>WILD LIFE IN WATER</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>“The antelope has less reason to fear the -lion than has the minnow to dread -the pike. We think of timid antelopes and -roaring lions, but the former has good use of -its limbs, and so a fighting chance for its life; -but the minnows have little advantage in the -struggle for existence, and none at all when -the predatory fishes are in pursuit of them.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>This was written in a note-book more than -thirty years ago, and I let it stand as evidence -of how easy it is to be in error in matters of -natural history.</p> - -<p class='c001'>When I went to school there was but one -teacher of the five that knew anything about -such matters, and he had the old-time views. -Then a fish was a mere machine so far as intelligence -was concerned. We were told of -the cunning of foxes and the instinct of ants -and bees, but never a word of fishes.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>The truth is, I might very properly speak -of wild “wit” in the water instead of “life,” -for there can be not the shadow of a doubt -but that many of our fishes are really cunning. -We need but watch them carefully to be -readily convinced of this. How else could -they escape danger?</p> - -<p class='c001'>The pretty peacock minnows throng the -grassy beach at high tide, playing with their -fellows in water just deep enough to cover -them, and are, when here, very tame and -careless. They even get stranded upon the -airy side of floating leaves, and enjoy the excitement. -They realize, it would seem, that -where they are no pike can rush down upon -them, no snake work its way unseen among -them, no turtle crawl into their playground; -but as the tide goes out and these minnows -are forced nearer to the river’s channel, they -lose their carelessness and are suspicious of -all about them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To call this instinctive fear and result of -heredity sounds well; but the naturalist is -brought nearer to the wild life about him -when he credits them simply with common -sense. The charm of watching such “small -deer” vanishes if we lean too much on the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>learned and scientific solutions of the comparative -psychologist, and possibly, too, we -wander further from the truth. All I positively -know is, that when danger really exists -the minnows are aware of it; when it is absent -they throw off the burden of this care, -and life for a few hours is a matter of pure -enjoyment.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Brief mention should be made of the protective -character of the coloring of certain -fishes. If such are fortunate enough to be -protectively colored, there is little to be said; -but are they conscious of this? Does a fish -that is green or mottled green and gray keep -closely to the weeds, knowing that it is safer -there than when in open water or where the -bottom is covered with white sand and pebbles? -This may be a rather startling question, -but there is warrant for the asking. Float -half a day over the shallows of any broad -pond or stream, study with care and without -preconception the fishes where they live, and -you will ask yourself not only this question, -but many a stranger one. If fish are fools, -how is it that the angler has so generally to -tax his ingenuity to outwit them? How closely -Nature must be copied to deceive a trout!</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>Having said so much of small fishes, what -now of the larger ones that prey upon them? -A pike, for instance? Probably many more -people have studied how to catch a pike than -have considered it scientifically. It is tiresome, -perhaps, but if a student of natural history -really desires to know what a fish actually -is, he must watch it for hours, being himself -unseen.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At one time there were several large pike -in my lotus pond. Under the huge floating -leaves of this splendid plant they took refuge, -and it was difficult to catch even a glimpse -of them. At the same time the schools of -minnows seemed to enjoy the sunlight and -sported in the open water. More than once, -however, I saw a pike rush out from its -cover, and finally learned that it systematically -lay in wait for the minnows; and I believe -I am justified in adding that the minnows -knew that danger lurked under the lotus -leaves.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The situation was not so hap-hazard a one -as might appear at first glance, and hours of -patient watching convinced me that there was -a decided exercising of ingenuity on the part -of both the pike and the minnows; the former -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>ever on the lookout for a victim, the -latter watchful of an ever-present danger. -Day long it was a tragedy where brute force -counted for little and cunning for a great -deal.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Another very common fish in my pond -was likewise very suggestive in connection -with the subject of animal intelligence. I -refer to the common “sunny,” or “pumpkin-seed.” -A shallow sand-nest had been scooped -near shore and the precious eggs deposited. -A school of silvery-finned minnows had discovered -them, and the parent fish was severely -taxed in her efforts to protect them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>So long as this school of minnows remained -together, the sunfish, by fierce rushes, -kept them back; but soon the former—was -it accident or design?—divided their forces, -and as the parent fish darted at one assaulting -party, the other behind it made a successful -raid upon the nest. This continued for some -time, and the sunfish was getting quite weary, -when, as if a sudden thought struck it, its -tactics changed, and it swam round and round -in a circle and sent a shower of sand out into -the space beyond the nest. This effectually -dazed the minnows.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>Little incidents like this are forever occurring -and effectually set aside the once -prevalent idea that fish are mere living machines. -Look a pike in the eye and you -will detect something very different from -mere instinctive timidity.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But fish are not the only creatures that live -in the water; there are one snake and several -species of turtles, and frogs, mollusks, and -insects innumerable. These are too apt to -be associated with the land, and, except the -two latter forms, are usually thought of as -taking to the water as a place of refuge, but -really living in the open air. This is a great -mistake. There is a lively world beneath -the surface of the water, and the tragedy of -life is played to the very end, with here and -there a pretty comedy that wards off the -blues when we look too long and see nothing -but the destruction of one creature that another -may live.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Here is an example of cunning or wit in a -water-snake. A friend of mine was recently -sitting on the bank of a little brook, when -his attention was called to a commotion -almost at his feet. Looking down, he saw a -snake holding its head above the water, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>in its mouth struggled a small sunfish. Now, -what was the snake’s purpose? It knew very -well that the fish would drown in the air, and -not until it was dead could it be swallowed -with that deliberation a snake loves. The -creature was cunning enough to kill by easy -means prey that would otherwise be difficult -to overcome, for while crosswise in the -snake’s mouth it could not be swallowed, -and if put down for an instant the chances -of its recapture would be slight.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To suppose that a turtle, as you watch it -crawling over the mud, has any sense of -humor in its horny head seems absurd; yet -naturalists have recorded their being seen at -play, and certainly they can readily be tamed -to a remarkable degree. Their intelligence, -however, shows prominently only in the -degree of cunning exhibited when they are -in search of food. The huge snapper “lies -in wait,” and truly this is a most suggestive -and comprehensive phrase. I believe, -too, that this fierce turtle buries surplus food, -and so gives further evidence of intellectual -activity.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To realize what wild life in the water -really is it must be observed where Nature -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>has placed it. It is perhaps not so much set -forth by exceptional incidents that the student -happens to witness as by that general appearance -of common sense which is so unmistakably -stamped upon even the most commonplace -movements. Writers upon animal -intelligence do not need to be constantly on -the lookout for special exhibitions of cunning -in order to substantiate the claims they make -in favor of life’s lower forms. It is plainly -enough to be seen if we will but patiently -watch whensoever these creatures come and -wheresoever they go and the manner of their -going and coming.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Do not be so intent upon watching for the -marvellous that ordinary incidents are not -seen. In studying wild life everywhere, -and perhaps more particularly in the water, -to be rightly informed we must see the average -individual amid commonplace surroundings. -Doing this, we are not misinformed -nor led to form too high an opinion. It is -as in the study of humanity. We must not -familiarize ourselves with the mountebank, -but with man.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch10' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>TENTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Tenth: an Old-fashioned Garden'><i>AN OLD-FASHIONED<br /> GARDEN</i></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>The world at large is a most intricate -machine, and parts viewed separately -give no hint of their importance to what -appear quite independent objects. Man may -dissociate without destroying, but, when he -does so, his constant attention must then take -the place of the acts that Nature designed -other conditions of life should perform. -The isolated plant, for instance, is destroyed -by insects unless we protect it by a glass -covering or a poison-bath: Nature gave it to -the birds to protect the plant, and in so -doing find food for themselves. This law -of interdependence is made very plain in the -case of a modern garden or the trim lawns -of a large city, and in less degree applies -to towns and villages. The caterpillar -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>nuisance that requires the collaring of shade-trees -with cotton-wool to protect their foliage -illustrates this; and what an example is -a modern garden filled to overflowing with -exotic plants! An all-important feature is -wanting,—birds; for, except English sparrows, -we have none, and these are worse -than useless.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was not always so, and the cause of the -deplorable change is not hard to find. Whenever -we chance, in our wanderings, to come -upon some long-neglected corner of colonial -times, there we will find the bloom and birds -together. I have said “neglected;” not -quite that, for there was bloom, and the -birds are excellent gardeners.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Let me particularize. My garden is a -commonplace affair, with the single innovation -of a tub sunk in the ground to accommodate -a lotus,—so commonplace, indeed, -that no passer-by would notice it; and yet -during a single summer afternoon I have -seen within its boundaries fifteen species of -birds. At that hottest hour of the midsummer -day, two <span class='fss'>P.M.</span>, while looking at the -huge pink blossoms of the classic lotus, my -attention was called to a quick movement -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>on the ground, as if a rat ran by. It proved -to be an oven-bird, that curious combination -of thrush and sand-piper, and yet neither, -but a true warbler. It peered into every -nook and corner of the shrubbery, poised on -the edge of the sunken lotus-tub, caught a -wriggling worm that came to the surface of -the water, then teetered along the fence and -was gone. Soon it returned, and came and -went until dark, as much at home as ever in -the deep recesses of unfrequented woods. -As the sun went down, the bird sang once -with all the spring-tide ardor, and brought -swiftly back to me many a long summer’s -day ramble in the country. It is something -to be miles away from home while sitting on -your own door-step.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Twice a song-sparrow came, bathed in -the lotus-tub, and, when not foraging in the -weedy corners, sang its old-fashioned song, -now so seldom heard within town limits. -The bird gave me two valuable hints as to -garden management. Water is a necessity -to birds as well as to any other form of life, -and shelter is something more than a mere -attraction. Was it not because the birds -happened to be provided with them to-day -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>that I had, as I have had the summer long, -more birds than my neighbors?</p> - -<p class='c001'>How seldom do we see the coral honeysuckle, -and how generally the trumpet-creeper -has given place to exotic vines of far more -striking bloom, but, as will appear, of less -utility! If the old-time vines that I have -mentioned bore less showy flowers, they had -at least the merit of attracting humming-birds, -that so grandly rounded out our complement -of summer birds. These feathered -fairies are not difficult to see, even though so -small, and, if so inclined, we can always -study them to great advantage. They become -quite tame, and in the old-fashioned -gardens were always a prominent feature by -reason of their numbers. They are not -forever on the wing, and when preening -their feathers let the sunshine fall upon them, -and we have emeralds and rubies that cost -nothing, but are none the less valuable because -of this. In changing the botanical -features of our yards we have had but one -thought, gorgeous flowers; but was it wise -to give no heed to the loss of birds as the -result? I fancy there are many who would -turn with delight from formal clusters of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>unfamiliar shrubs, however showy, to a -gooseberry hedge or a lilac thicket with -song-sparrows and a cat-bird hidden in its -shade. We have been unwise in this too -radical change. We have abolished bird-music -in our eagerness for color, gaining a -little, but losing more. We have paid too -clear, not for a whistle, but for its loss. But -it is not too late. Carry a little of the home -forest to our yards, and birds will follow it. -And let me here wander to an allied matter, -that of the recently-established Arbor Day. -What I have just said recalls it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To merely transplant a tree, move it from -one spot to another, where perhaps it is less -likely to remain for any length of time than -where it previously stood, is, it seems to me, -the very acme of folly. The chances are -many that the soil is less suitable, and so -growth will be retarded, and the world is -therefore not one whit the better off. There -is far too much tree-planting of this kind -on Arbor Day. In many an instance a plot -of ground has been replanted year after -year. I fancy we will have to reach more -nearly to the stage of tree appreciation before -Arbor Day will be a pre-eminent success. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>Can we not, indeed, accommodate ourselves -a little more to the trees growing where Nature -planted them? I know a village well, -where the houses are placed to accommodate -the trees that stood there when the spot was -a wilderness. The main street is a little -crooked, but what a noble street it is! I -recall, as I write these lines, many a Friends’ -meeting-house, and one country school, -where splendid oaks are standing near by, -and to those who gather daily or weekly -here, whether children or grown people, -the trees are no less clear than the buildings -beside them. The wanderer who revisits -the scenes of his childhood looks first at the -trees and then at the houses. Tree-worship, -we are told, was once very prevalent, -and it is not to be regretted that in a modified -form it still remains with us.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As a practical matter, let me here throw -out the suggestion that he will be doing most -excellent work who saves a tree each year. -This is a celebration that needs no special -day set forth by legislative enactment. How -often I have heard farmers remark, "It was -a mistake to cut those trees down"! Of course -it was. In nine cases out of ten the value -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>of the trees felled proves less than was expected, -and quickly follows the realization of -the fact that when standing their full value -was not appreciated. Think of cutting down -trees that stand singly or in little groups in -the middle of fields because it is a trouble to -plant around them, or for the reason that -they shade the crops too much! What of -the crop of comfort such trees yield to both -man and beast when these fields are pastures? -“But there is no money in shade-trees.” -I cannot repress my disgust when -I hear this, and I have heard it often. Is -there genuine manhood in those who feel -this way towards the one great ornament of -our landscape?</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is not—more’s the pity—within the -power of every one to plant a tree, but those -who cannot need not stand idly by on Arbor -Day. Here is an instance where half a loaf -is better than no bread. Many a one can -plant a shrub. How often there is an unsightly -corner, even in the smallest enclosure, -where a tall tree would be a serious obstruction, -whereon can be grown a thrifty bush, -one that will be a constant source of pleasure -because of its symmetry and bright foliage, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>and for a time doubly attractive because of -its splendid blossoming! We know too little -of the many beautiful flowering shrubs that -are scattered through every woodland, which -are greatly improved by a little care in cultivation, -and which will bear transplanting. -We overlook them often, when seen growing -in the forest, because they are small, -irregular, and often sparse of <a id='corr140.9'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='bloom,'>bloom.</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_140.9'><ins class='correction' title='bloom,'>bloom.</ins></a></span> But -remember, in the woods there is a fierce -struggle for existence, and when this is overcome -the full beauty of the shrub’s stature -becomes an accomplished fact.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Here is a short list of common shrubs, -every one of which is hardy, beautiful in -itself, and can be had without other cost or -labor than a walk in the country, for I do -not suppose any land-owner would refuse a -“weed,” as they generally call these humble -plants. The spicewood (<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Lindera benzoin</em></span>), -which bears bright golden flowers before the -leaves appear; the shad-bush (<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Amelanchier -canadensis</em></span>), with a wealth of snowy blossoms, -which are increased in number and size by a -little attention, as judicious trimming; and -the “bush” of the wild-wood can be made -to grow to a beautiful miniature tree. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>well-known pinxter flower (<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Azalea nudicaule</em></span>) -is improved by cultivation, and can be -made to grow “stocky” and thick-set, instead -of scragged, as we usually find it. Its -bright pink blossoms make a grand showing -in May. There is a little wild plum -(<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Prunus spinosa</em></span>) which only asks to be -given a chance and then will rival the famous -deutzias in profusion of bloom, and afterwards -remains a sturdy tree-like shrub, with -dark-green foliage that is always attractive. -This, too, blooms before the foliage is developed, -and hints of spring as surely as the -robin’s song. A larger but no less handsome -bush is the white flowering thorn (<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Cratægus -crus-galli</em></span>), and there are wild spireas that -should not be overlooked, and two white flowering -shrubs that delight all who see them in -bloom, the deer-berry (<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Vaccinium stamineum</em></span>), -and the “false-teeth” (<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Leucothoe racemosa</em></span>). -All these are spring flowers. And now a -word about an August bloomer, the sweet -pepper-bush (<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Clethra alnifolia</em></span>). This is -easily grown and is a charming plant.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It happens, too, that a place can be found -for a hardy climber, and as beautiful as the -coral honeysuckles of our grandmother’s days -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>is the climbing bittersweet (<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Celastrus scandens</em></span>). -The plant itself is attractive. Its -vigorous growth soon covers the support -provided for it, and in autumn and throughout -the winter its golden and crimson fruit -hangs in thick-set clusters upon every branch.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Considering how frequently near the house -there are unsightly objects, and how depressing -it is to be forever looking upon ugliness, -it is strange that the abundant means for -beautifying waste places are so persistently -neglected. With one or more of the plants -I have named, an eyesore may be changed to -a source of pleasure, and it was Beecher, I -think, who said, “A piece of color is as useful -as a piece of bread.” He never spoke -more truly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>And what of the old-time arbors, with the -straggling grape-vine, and perhaps a rude -wren-box perched at the entrance? Is there -better shade than the grape-vine offers, a -sweeter odor than its bloom affords, or more -charming music than the song of the restless -house-wren? Certainly there have been no -improvements upon these features of the old-time -garden: yet how seldom do we see -them now! We must travel far, too, to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>find a martin-box. As a matter of fact, -the bluebird, wren, and martin might, if we -chose, be restored to the very hearts of our -largest towns. People have no more terror -for them than for the English sparrow, and -they can all hold out against these piratical -aliens, if we would consider their few and -simple needs. The wrens need but nesting-boxes -with an entrance through which the -shoulders of a sparrow cannot pass; and the -bluebirds and martins require only that their -houses be closed during the winter and very -early spring, or until they have returned from -their winter-quarters. This is easily done, -and when the birds are ready to occupy the -accommodations provided for them they will -take possession and successfully hold the forts -against all intruders. This is not a fancy -merely, suggested as the basis of experimentation, -but is the result of the experience -of several people in widely-separated localities. -I vividly recall visiting at a house in a -large town, where purple martins for more -than fifty years had occupied boxes placed -upon the eaves of a one-story kitchen.</p> - -<p class='c001'>While stress is laid upon the importance -of regaining the presence in town of these -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>birds, it must not be supposed that they are -all that are available. There are scores of -wild birds, known only to the ornithologist, -that can be “cultivated” as readily as the -wild shrubbery that under startling names -figures in many a florist’s catalogue. Give -them a foothold, and they will come to stay. -Orioles, thrushes, vireos, fly-catchers, are -not unreasonably afraid of man, and would -quickly acquire confidence if they were warranted -in so doing. How long would a -scarlet tanager or a cardinal grosbeak remain -unmolested if it appeared in any city street? -Here is the whole matter in a nutshell: the -birds are not averse to coming, but the people -will not let them. This is the more strange, -when we remember that hundreds of dollars -were spent to accommodate the pestiferous -imported sparrow, that is and always must -be a positive curse. Hundreds for sparrows, -and not one cent for a bluebird! While the -mischief can never be undone, it can be held -in check, if we will but take the trouble, -and this is a mere matter of town-garden -rearrangement; and why, indeed, not treat -our ears to music as well as our eyes to color -and our palates to sweetness? Plant here -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>and there a bush that will yield you a crop -of birds. That this may not be thought -merely a whim of my own, let me quote from -the weather record of Dr. John Conrad, who -for forty years was the apothecary of the -Pennsylvania Hospital, in Philadelphia. This -institution, bear in mind, is in the heart of -the city, not in its outskirts. Under date of -March 23, 1862, he records, “Crocus and -snow-drop came into bloom last week and -are now fully out.” Again, he says, “Orioles -arrived on April 8, after the fruit-trees burst -into bloom.” Here we have a migratory -bird in the city three weeks earlier than its -usual appearance in the country, but I do not -think the doctor was mistaken. I have positive -knowledge of the fact that he was a good -local ornithologist. Under date of June, -1866, Conrad writes, “A very pleasant June. -Fine bright weather, and only one week too -warm for comfort. The roses bloomed well -(except the moss-rose) and for the most part -opened better than usual. The garden full -of birds, and insects less abundant than usual. -Many blackbirds reared their young in our -trees, and as many as sixteen or twenty have -been counted on the lawn at one time. Cat-birds, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>orioles, thrushes, wrens, vireos, robins, -etc., abound and make our old hospital joyous -with their sweet songs.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>During the summer of 1892 I was twice -in the hospital grounds, with which I was -very familiar during my uncle’s—Dr. Conrad’s—lifetime, -and I heard only English -sparrows, although I saw two or three native -birds. It was a sad change. Think of -being able to speak of your garden as “full -of birds,”—as “joyous with their sweet -songs.” This, not long ago, could truthfully -be done. Will it ever be possible to do so -again?</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch11' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>ELEVENTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Eleventh: an Indian Trail'><em>AN INDIAN TRAIL</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>It was a strange coincidence. A farmer -living near by employed an Indian from -the school at Carlisle, and now that the work -of the summer was over, this taciturn youth -walked daily over a hill to a school-house -more than a mile away, and the path leading -to it was an Indian trail.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Not long since I met the lad on this very -path returning from school, and when he -passed I stood by an old oak and watched -him until lost among the trees, walking where -centuries ago his people had walked when -going from the mountain village and rock -shelters along an inland creek to the distant -town by the river.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As you looked about from the old oak there -was no public road or house in sight; nothing -but trees and bushes, huge rocks, and one -curious jutting ledge that tradition holds is a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>veritable relic of prehistoric time,—a place -where council fires were lit and midnight -meetings held.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Whether tradition is true or not, the place -was a fitting one whereat to tarry and fall -a-thinking. Happy, indeed, could the old -oak have spoken.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Many a public road of recent date has been -built on the line of an old trail, as many -a town and even city have replaced Indian -villages; but take the long-settled regions -generally, the ancient landmarks are all gone, -and a stray potsherd or flint arrow-point in -the fields is all that is left to recall the days -of the dusky aborigines.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Only in the rough, rocky, irreclaimable -hills are we likely now to be successful, if -such traces as a trail are sought for.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was so here. Bald-top Hill is of little -use to the white man except for the firewood -that grows upon its sides and the scattered -game that still linger in its thickets. As -seen from the nearest road, not far off, there -is nothing now to suggest that an Indian ever -clambered about it. The undergrowth hides -every trace of the surface; but after the leaves -drop and a light snow has fallen, a curious -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>white line can be traced from the base of -the summit; this is the old trail.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is a narrow path, but for so long a -time had it been used by the Indians that, -when once pointed out, it can still be followed -without difficulty. It leads now from -one little intervale to another: from farmer -A to farmer B; but originally it was part -of their long highway leading from Philadelphia -to Easton, perhaps. It matters not. -Enough to know that then, as now, there -were towns almost wherever there was land -fit for dwellings, and paths that led from one -to the other. It is clear that the Indians -knew the whole country well. The routes -they finally chose resulted from long experience, -and were as direct as the nature of the -ground made possible.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The study of trails opens up to us a broader -view of ancient Indian life than we are apt -to entertain.</p> - -<p class='c001'>We find the sites of villages on the banks -of the rivers and larger inflowing streams; -travel by canoes was universal. No locality -was so favorable as the open valley, and here -the greater number of Indians doubtless -dwelt. But the river and its fertile shores -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>could not yield all that this people needed: -they had to draw from the resources of the -hills behind them. They soon marked the -whole region with a net-work of trails leading -to the various points whence they drew the -necessities of life. The conditions of the -present day are laid down on essentially the -same lines as then.</p> - -<p class='c001'>An Indian town was not a temporary tent -site, or mere cluster of wigwams, here to-day -and miles away to-morrow; nor did these -people depend solely upon the chase. Beside -the trail over which I recently passed -was a great clearing that had been an orchard. -We can yet find many a barren spot that is -rightly known to the people of to-day as -an Indian field. So persistently were their -cornfields cropped that at last the soil was -absolutely exhausted, and has not yet recovered -its fertility.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was systematic bartering, too, as the -red pipe-stone or catlinite from Minnesota -and obsidian from the more distant Northwest, -found on the Atlantic coast, as well as -ocean shells picked up in the far interior, all -testify. There was also periodical journeying -in autumn from inland to the sea-coast to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>gather supplies of oysters, clams, and other -“sea food,” which were dried by smoking -and then “strung as beads and carried as -great coils of rope” back to the hills to be -consumed during the winter.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Many small colonies, too, passed the winters -on the coast in the shelter of the great -pine forests that extended to the very ocean -beach. It was no hap-hazard threading of a -wilderness to reach these distant points. The -paths were well defined, well used. For how -long we can only conjecture, but the vast accumulations -of shells on the coast, often now -beneath the water, point to a time so distant -that the country wore a different aspect from -what it now does; a time when the land rose -far higher above the tide and extended seaward -where now the ocean rolls resistlessly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Returning inland, let us trace another of -these old-time paths from the river-shore -whereon the Indians had long dwelt, over -hill and dale until we reach a valley hemmed -in by low, rolling hills.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is a pretty spot still, although marred by -the white man’s work; but why was it the -goal of many a weary journey?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Here is found the coveted jasper, varied in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>hue as autumn leaves or a summer sunset. -The quick eye of some wandering hunter, it -may be, found a chance fragment, and, looking -closer, saw that the ground on which he -stood was filled with it; or a freshet may -have washed the soil from an outcropping of -the mineral. Who can tell? It must suffice -to know that the discovery was made in -time, and a new industry arose. No other -material so admirably met the Indian’s need -for arrow-points, for the blades of spears, for -knives, drills, scrapers, and the whole range -of tools and weapons in daily use.</p> - -<p class='c001'>So it came that mining camps were established. -To this day, in these lonely hills, -we can trace out the great pits the Indians -dug, find the tools with which they toiled, -and even the ashes of their camp-fires, where -they slept by night. So deeply did the -Indian work the land wheresoever he toiled -that even the paths that led from the mines -to the distant village have not been wholly -blotted out.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The story of the jasper mines has yet to -be told, and it may be long before the full -details are learned concerning the various -processes through which the mineral passed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>before it came into use as a finished product. -Much vain speculation has been indulged in; -the fancied method of reducing a thick blade -to a thin one has been elaborately described, -although never carried out by any human -being; in short, the impossible has been -boldly asserted as a fact beyond question.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The Indian’s history can be read but in -small part from the handiwork that he has -left behind.</p> - -<p class='c001'>One phase of it, in the valley of the Delaware, -is more clearly told than all else,—the -advance from a primitive to a more cultured -status. There were centuries during which -jasper was known only as river-pebbles, and -its discovery in abundance had an influence -upon Indians akin to that upon Europe’s -stone-age people when they discovered the -use of metals. At least here in the valley of -the Delaware this is true.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is vain to ask for the beginning of man’s -career in this region; what we find but hints -at it. But he came when there were no -trails over the hills, no path but the icy river’s -edge; only as the centuries rolled by was the -country developed to the extent of knowing -every nook and corner of the land, and highways -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>and by-ways became common, like the -roads that now reach out in every direction.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A “trail,” then, has a wealth of meaning, -and those who made it were no “mere savages,” -as we so glibly speak of the Indians, -thanks to the average school-books.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The haughty Delawares had fields and orchards; -they had permanent towns; they -mined such minerals as were valuable to -them; they had weapons of many patterns; -they were jewellers in a crude way, and finished -many a stone ornament in a manner that -still excites admiration. They were travellers -and tradesmen as well as hunters and warriors.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Although my day’s search for relics of these -people had yielded but a few arrow-points, -potsherds, and a stone axe, when I saw the -Indian on his way from school, walking in the -very path his people had made long centuries -ago, the story of their ancient sojourn here -came vividly to mind in the dim light of an autumn -afternoon, when a golden mist wrapped -the hills and veiled the valleys beyond, and I -had a glimpse of pre-Columbian America.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch12' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>TWELFTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Telfth: a Pre-columbian Dinner'>.<i>A PRE-COLUMBIAN<br /> DINNER</i></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>A ponderous geologist, with weighty -tread and weightier manner, brought -his foot down upon the unoffending sod and -declared, “These meadows are sinking at a -rapid rate; something over two feet a century.” -We all knew it, but Sir Oracle had -spoken, and we little dogs did not dare to bark.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Not long after I returned alone to these ill-fated -meadows and began a leisurely, all-day -ramble. They were very beautiful. There -was a wealth of purple and of white boneset -and iron-weed of royal dye. Sunflower and -primrose gilded the hidden brooks, and every -knoll was banked with rose-pink centaury. -Nor was this all. Feathery reeds towered -above the marsh, and every pond was empurpled -with pontederia and starred with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>lilies. Afar off, acres of nut-brown sedge -made fitting background for those meadow -tracts that were still green, while close at -hand, more beautiful than all, were struggling -growths held down by the golden-dodder’s -net that overspread them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It does not need trees or rank shrubbery to -make a wilderness. This low-lying tract to-day, -with but a summer’s growth above it, is -as wild and lonely as are the Western plains. -Lonely, that is, as man thinks, but not forsaken. -The wily mink, the pert weasel, the -musk-rat, and the meadow-mouse ramble in -safety through it. The great blue heron, its -stately cousin, the snowy egret, and the dainty -least bittern find it a congenial home.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The fiery dragon-fly darts and lazy butterflies -drift across the blooming waste; bees -buzz angrily as you approach; basking snakes -bid you defiance. Verily, this is wild life’s -domain and man is out of place.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was not always so. The land is sinking, -and what now of that older time when -it was far above its present level,—a high, -dry, upland tract, along which flowed a clear -and rapid stream? The tell-tale arrow-point -is our guide, and wherever the sod is broken -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>we have an inkling of Indian history. The -soil, as we dig a little deeper, is almost black -with charcoal—dust, and it is evident that -centuries ago the Indians were content to -dwell here, and well they might be. Even -in colonial days the place had merit, and escaped -not the eager eyes of Penn’s grasping -followers. It was meadow then, and not -fitted for his house, but the white man built -his barn above the ruins of his dusky predecessor’s -home. All trace of human habitation -is now gone, but the words of the geologist -kept ringing in my ears, and of late -I have been digging. It is a little strange -that so few traces of the white man are found -as compared with relics of the Indian. From -the barn that once stood here and was long -ago destroyed by a flood one might expect to -find at least a rusty nail.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The ground held nothing telling of a recent -past, but was eloquent of the long ago. -Dull indeed must be the imagination that -cannot recall what has been here brought -to light by the aid of such an implement -as the spade. Not only were the bow and -spear proved to be the common weapons -of the time, but there were in even greater -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>abundance, and of many patterns, knives to -flay the game. It is not enough to merely -glance at a trimmed flake of flint or carefully-chipped -splinter of argillite, and say to -yourself, “A knife.” Their great variety -has a significance that should not be overlooked. -The same implement could not -be put to every use for which a knife was -needed; hence the range in size from several -inches to tiny flakes that will likely remain a -puzzle as to their purpose.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Besides home products, articles are found -that have come from a long distance, and -no class of objects is more suggestive than -those that prove the widely-extended system -of barter that prevailed at one time among -the Indians of North America. There are -shells and shell ornaments found in Wisconsin -which must have been taken there -from the shores of the Gulf of Mexico; -catlinite or red pipe-stone ornaments and -pipes found in New Jersey that could only -have come from Minnesota. Shell beads are -often found in graves in the Mississippi Valley -that were brought from the Pacific coast, and -the late Dr. Leidy has described a shell bead, -concerning which he states that it is the <span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>Conus -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>ternatus</em></span>, a shell which belongs to the west -coast of Central America. This was found, -with other Indian relics, in Hartman’s Cave, -near Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. Two small -arrow-points found in New Jersey a year or -more ago proved to be made of obsidian. -These specimens could only have come from -the far South-west or from Oregon, and the -probabilities are in favor of the latter locality. -It is not unlikely that objects like the above -should find their way inland to the Great -Lakes, and so across the continent and down -the Atlantic coast. On the other hand, -arrow-points could have had so little intrinsic -value in the eyes of an Indian that we are -naturally surprised that they should have -been found so far from their place of origin. -Obsidian has occurred but very rarely east -of the Alleghanies, so far as I am aware. -In the Sharples collection, at West Chester, -Pennsylvania, is a single specimen, reported -to have been found near that place, and a few -traces have since been discovered in the uplands -immediately adjoining these Delaware -meadows, and really there is no reason to -suppose that objects of value should not have -passed quite across the continent, or been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>carried from Mexico to Canada. There were -no vast areas absolutely uninhabited and across -which no Indian ever ventured.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It has been suggested that, as iron was -manufactured in the valley of the Delaware -as early as 1728, the supposed obsidian -arrow-points are really made of slag from the -furnaces, but a close examination of the specimens -proves, it is claimed, this not to have -been the case, and at this comparatively late -date the making of stone arrow-points had -probably ceased. Just when, however, the -use of the bow as a weapon was discarded -has not been determined, but fire-arms were -certainly common in 1728 and earlier.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A careful study, too, of copper implements, -which are comparatively rare, seems -to point to the conclusion that very few were -made of the native copper found in New -Jersey, Maryland, and elsewhere along the -Atlantic coast, but that they were made in -the Lake Superior region and thence gradually -dispersed over the Eastern States. The -large copper spear from Betterton, Maryland, -recently found, and another from New Jersey, -bear a striking resemblance to the spear-heads -from the North-west, where unquestionably -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>the most expert of aboriginal coppersmiths -lived. Of course, the many small beads of -this metal occasionally found in Indian graves -in the Delaware Valley might have been made -of copper found near by, but large masses are -very seldom met with.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Speaking of copper beads recalls the fact -that a necklace comprising more than one -hundred was recently found on the site of -an old Dutch trader’s house, on an island in -the Delaware. They were of Indian manufacture, -and had been in the fur trader’s possession, -if we may judge from the fact that -they were found with hundreds of other -relics that betokened not merely European, -but Dutch occupation of the spot. This -trader got into trouble and doubtless deserved -his summary taking off.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is not “a most absurd untruth,” as was -stated not long ago in the <cite>Critic</cite> in a review -of a New York history, that the Indians were -“a people of taste and industry, and in morals -quite the peers of their Dutch neighbors.” -They had just as keen a sense of right and -wrong. There never was a handful of colonists -in North America whose whole history -their descendants would care to have known. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>The truth is, we know very little of the -Indian prior to European contact. Carpet-knight -archæologists and kid-gloved explorers -crowd the pages of periodical literature, it -is true, but we are little, if any, the wiser.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is supposed, and is even asserted, that -the Indian knew nothing of forks; but that -he plunged his fingers into the boiling pot or -held in his bare hands the steaming joints of -bear or venison is quite improbable. Now, -the archæologist talks glibly of bone awls -whenever a sharpened splinter of bone is -presented him, as if such instruments were -only intended to perforate leather. They -doubtless had other uses, and I am sure that -more than one split and sharpened bone which -has been found would have served excellently -well as a one-tined fork wherewith to lift from -the pot a bit of meat. Whether or not such -forks were in use, there were wooden spoons, -as a bit of the bowl and a mere splinter of the -handle serve to show. Kalm tells us that they -used the laurel for making this utensil, but I -fancied my fragment was hickory. Potsherds -everywhere spoke of the Indians’ feasting, -and it is now known that, besides bowls and -shallow dishes of ordinary sizes, they also -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>had vessels of several gallons’ capacity. All -these are broken now, but, happily, fragments -of the same dish are often found together, -and so we can reconstruct them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But what did the Indians eat? Quaint old -Gabriel Thomas, writing about 1696, tells -us that “they live chiefly on <em>Maze</em> or <em>Indian -Corn</em> rosted in the Ashes, sometimes beaten -boyl’d with Water, called <em>Homine</em>. They -have cakes, not unpleasant; also Beans and -Pease, which nourish much, but the Woods -and Rivers afford them their provision; they -eat morning and evening, their Seats and -Tables on the ground.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>In a great measure this same story of The -Indians’ food supply was told by the scattered -bits found mingled with the ashes of an ancient -hearth. Such fireplaces or cooking sites were -simple in construction, but none the less -readily recognized as to their purpose. A few -flat pebbles had been brought from the bed of -the river near by, and a small paved area some -two feet square was placed upon or very near -the surface of the ground. Upon this the -fire was built, and in time a thick bed of -ashes accumulated. Just how they cooked -can only be conjectured, but the discovery of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>very thick clay vessels and great quantities -of fire-cracked quartzite pebbles leads to the -conclusion that water was brought to the -boiling-point by heating the stones to a red -heat and dropping them into the vessel holding -the water. Thomas, as we have seen, -says corn was “boyl’d with Water.” Meat -also was, I think, prepared in the same manner. -Their pottery probably was poorly -able to stand this harsh treatment, which -would explain the presence of such vast quantities -of fragments of clay vessels. Traces of -vegetable food are now very rarely found. A -few burnt nuts, a grain or two of corn, and, -in one instance, what appeared to be a charred -crab-apple, complete the list of what, as yet, -have been picked from the mingled earth and -ashes. This is not surprising, and what we -know of vegetable food in use among the -Delaware Indians is almost wholly derived -from those early writers who were present -at their feasts. Kalm mentions the roots of -the golden-club, arrow-leaf, and ground-nut, -besides various berries and nuts. It is well -known that extensive orchards were planted -by these people. It may be added that, in -all probability, the tubers of that noble plant, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>the lotus, were used as food. Not about -these meadows, but elsewhere in New Jersey, -this plant has been growing luxuriantly since -Indian times.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Turning now to the consideration of what -animal food they consumed, one can speak -with absolute certainty. It is clear that the -Delawares were meat-eaters. It needs but -little digging on any village site to prove this, -and from a single fireplace deep down in the -stiff soil of this sinking meadow have been -taken bones of the elk, deer, bear, beaver, -raccoon, musk-rat, and gray squirrel. Of -these, the remains of deer were largely in excess, -and as this holds good of every village -site I have examined, doubtless the Indians -depended more largely upon this animal than -upon all the others. Of the list, only the -elk is extinct in the Delaware Valley, and -it was probably rare even at the time of the -European settlement of the country, except -in the mountain regions. If individual tastes -varied as they do among us, we have certainly -sufficient variety here to have met every fancy.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With a food supply as varied as this, an -ordinary meal or an extraordinary feast can -readily be recalled, so far as its essential features -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>are concerned. It is now September, -and, save where the ground has been ruthlessly -uptorn, everywhere is a wealth of early autumn -bloom. A soothing quiet rests upon the -scene, bidding us to retrospective thought. -Not a bit of stone, of pottery, or of burned -and blackened fragment of bone but stands -out in the mellow sunshine as the feature of -a long-forgotten feast. As I dreamily gaze -upon the gatherings of half a day, I seem to -see the ancient folk that once dwelt in this -neglected spot; seem to be a guest at a pre-Columbian -dinner in New Jersey.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch13' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>THIRTEENTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Thirteenth: a Day’s Digging'><em>A DAY’S DIGGING</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>As long ago as November, 1679, two -Dutchmen, Jasper Dankers and Peter -Sluyter, worked their way laboriously across -New Jersey from Manhattan Island, and -reached South River, as the Delaware was -then called, at least by the Hollanders. They -were all agog to see the falls at the head of -tide-water, and spent a miserable night in a -rickety shanty, which was cold as Greenland, -except in the fireplace, and there they roasted. -All this was not calculated to put them in excellent -humor, and so the next day, when they -stood on the river-bank and saw only a trivial -rapid where they had expected a second Niagara, -their disgust knew no bounds. These -travel-tired Dutchmen quickly departed, rowing -a small boat down-stream, and growling -whenever the tide turned and they had to row -against it.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>When they reached Burlington, they recorded -of an island nearly in front of the -village, that it “formerly belonged to the -Dutch Governor, who had made it a pleasure -ground or garden, built good houses upon it, -and sowed and planted it. He also dyked -and cultivated a large piece of meadow or -marsh.” The English held it at the time of -their visit, and it was occupied by “some -Quakers,” as the authors quoted called them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>One of these Dutch houses, built in part -of yellow bricks, and with a red tiled roof, -I found traces of years ago, and ever since -have been poking about the spot, for the very -excellent reasons that it is a pretty one, a secluded -one, and as full of natural history -attractions now as it was of human interest -when a Dutch beer-garden.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Had no one who saw the place in its palmy -days left a record concerning the beer, I -could, at this late day, have given testimony -that if there was no beer, there were beer -mugs, and schnapps bottles, and wineglasses, -for I have been digging again and found them -all; and then the pipes and pipe-stems! I -have a pile of over five hundred. The -Dutch travellers were correct as to the place -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>having been a pleasure-garden. It certainly -was, and probably the very first on the Delaware -River. But there was “pleasure,” too, -on the main shore, for the men who referred -to the island stayed one night in Burlington, -and, the next day being Sunday, attended -Quaker meeting, and wrote afterwards, -“What they uttered was mostly in one tone -and the same thing, and so it continued until -we were tired out and went away.” Doubtless -they were prejudiced, and so nothing -suited them, not even what they found to -drink, for they said, “We tasted here, for the -first time, peach brandy or spirits, which was -very good, but would have been better if -more carefully made.” They did not like -the English, evidently, for the next day they -went to Takanij (Tacony), a village of Swedes -and Finns, and there drank their fill of “very -good beer” brewed by these people, and expressed -themselves as much pleased to find -that, because they had come to a new country, -they had not left behind them their old -customs.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The house that once stood where now -is but a reach of abandoned and wasting -meadow was erected in 1668 or possibly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>a little earlier. Its nearest neighbor was across -a narrow creek, and a portion of the old -building is said to be still standing. Armed -with the few facts that are on record, it is easy -to picture the place as it was in the days of -the Dutch, and it was vastly prettier then than -it is now. The public of to-day are not interested -in a useless marsh, particularly when -there is better ground about it in abundance, -and whoever wanders to such uncanny places -is quite sure to be left severely alone. This -was my experience, and, being undisturbed, I -enjoyed the more my resurrective work. I -could enthuse, without being laughed at, over -what to others was but meaningless rubbish, -and I found very much that, to me, possessed -greater interest than usual, because of a mingling -of late Indian and early European objects. -With a handful of glass, porcelain, and amber -beads were more than one hundred of copper; -the former from Venice, the latter the -handiwork of a Delaware Indian. With a -white clay pipe, made in Holland in the -seventeenth century, was found a rude brown -clay one, made here in the river valley. -Mingled with fragments of blue and white -Delft plates, bowls, and platters, were sundried -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>mud dishes made by women hereabouts -during, who can say how many centuries? -How completely history and pre-history -here overlapped! We know pretty much -everything about Dutchmen, but how much -do we really know of the native American? -After nearly thirty years’ digging, he has been -traced from the days of the great glaciers to -the beginnings of American history; but we -cannot say how long a time that comprises. -The winter of 1892-1893 was, so far as -appearances went, a return to glacial times. -Ice was piled up fifty feet in height, and -the water turned from the old channel of the -river. The cutting of another one opened -up new territory for the relic hunter when -the ice was gone and the stream had returned -to its old bed. Many an Indian wigwam -site that had been covered deep with soil -was again warmed by the springtide sun, and -those were rare days when, from the ashes of -forgotten camps, I raked the broken weapons -and rude dishes that the red men had discarded. -It was reading history at first hands, -without other commentary than your own. -The ice-scored gravel-beds told even an older -story; but no one day’s digging was so full -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>of meaning, or brought me so closely in touch -with the past, as when I uncovered what -remained of the old Dutch trader’s house; -traced the boundaries of the one-time pleasure-garden, -hearing in the songs of birds the -clinking of glasses, and then, in fancy, adding -to the now deserted landscape the fur-laden -canoes of the Indians who once gathered here -to exchange for the coveted gaudy beads the -skins of the many animals which at that time -roamed the forests.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch14' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>FOURTEENTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Fourteenth: Drifting'><em>DRIFTING</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>Make an early start if you wish an -eventful outing. Why know the world -only when the day is middle-aged or old? -A wise German has said, “The morning -hour has gold in its mouth.” For many a -rod after leaving the wharf the river still -“smoked,” and the scanty glimpses between -the rolling clouds of mist spurred the imagination. -There was nothing certain beyond -the gunwales. The pale-yellow color -of the water near at hand and the deep-green -and even black of that in the distance had -no daytime suggestiveness. It was not yet -the familiar river with its noonday glitter -of blue and silver.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is not strange that the initial adventure to -which the above-mentioned conditions naturally -gave rise occurred while this state of uncertainty -continued. Very soon I ran upon a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>snag. To strike such an object in mid-river -was rather startling. Was I not in or near the -channel? Steamboats come puffing and plowing -here and sailing craft pass up and down, -so my only care had been to avoid them; but -now there came in my path the twisted trunk -of an old forest tree and held me fast. All -the while the mist rose and fell, giving no -inkling of my whereabouts. In the dim, -misty light what a strange sea-monster this -resurrected tree-trunk seemed to be! Its -thick green coat of silky threads lay closely -as the shining fur of the otter, a mane of -eel-grass floated on the water, the gnarly -growths where branches once had been -glistened as huge eyes, and broken limbs -were horns that threatened quick destruction. -There was motion, too. Slowly it rose above -the water and then as slowly sunk from view. -Could it be possible that some long-necked -saurian of the Jersey marls had come to life? -Nonsense; and yet so real did it seem that -I was ready for the river-horse to rise</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in14'>“from the waves beneath,</div> - <div class='line'>And grin through the grate of his spiky teeth.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>With such an uncanny keeper, I was held a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>prisoner. At last I struck it with an oar to -beat it back, and rocked the frail boat until -I feared plunging into the deep water and -deeper mud beneath. Deep water? It suddenly -occurred to me to try its depth, and -the truth was plain. I was far from the -channel, and might with safety have waded -to the shore. As usual, I had rashly jumped -at conclusions. The mouth of an inflowing -creek was near at hand, and this sunken tree, -a relic of some forgotten freshet, had been -lying here in the mud for several years. -The tide lifted and let fall the trunk, but the -root-mass was still strongly embedded. I -knew the spot of old, and now, fearing -nothing, was rational again.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Such sunken trees, however, are well calculated -to alarm the unthinking. It is said -of one yet lying in the mud of Crosswicks -Creek, that it rose so quickly once as to overturn -a boat. This is not improbable. That -occurrence, if true, happened a century ago, -and the same tree has since badly frightened -more than one old farmer. I am told -this of one of them who had anchored his -boat here one frosty October morning and -commenced fishing. While half asleep, or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>but half sober, the tree slowly raised up and -tilted the boat so that its occupant felt compelled -to swim. His view of the offending -monster was much like my own fevered vision -of to-day. He not only swam ashore, but ran -a mile over a soft marsh. To him the <em>sea</em>-serpent -was a reality, although he saw it in -the <em>creek</em>.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is of interest to note that among the -early settlers of this region, for at least three -generations, the impression was prevalent -that there might be some monster lurking in -the deep holes of the creek or in the river. -The last of the old hunters and fishermen of -this region, who had spent all his life in a boat -or prowling along shore, was ever talking of a -“king tortle” that for forty years had defied -all his efforts to capture it. “Mostly, it -only shows its top shell, but I have seen it -fair and square, head and legs, and I don’t -know as I care to get very close, neither.” -This was his unvaried remark whenever I -broached the subject. To have suggested that -it was a sunken log, or in some other way -tried to explain the matter, would only -have brought about his ill will. I once attempted -it, very cautiously, but he effectually -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>shut me up by remarking, “When this here -creek runs dry and you can walk over its -bottom, you’ll larn a thing or two that ain’t -down in your books yet, and ain’t goin’ to -be.” The old man was right. I do not -believe in “king tortles,” but there certainly -is “a thing or two” not yet in the books. -Stay! How big do our snappers grow? Is -the father of them all still hiding in the -channel of Crosswicks Creek?</p> - -<p class='c001'>A description in an old manuscript journal, -of the general aspect of the country as seen -from the river, bears upon this subject of -strange wild beasts and monsters of the deep, -as well as on that of sunken trees that endangered -passing shallops.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“As we pass up the river,” this observant -writer records, "we are so shut in by the -great trees that grow even to the edge of the -water, that what may lye in the interior is -not to be known. That there be fertile -land, the Indians tell us, but their narrow -paths are toilsome to travel and there are -none [of these people] now that seem willing -to guide us. As we approached ffarnsworth’s -the channel was often very close to -the shore, and at one time we were held by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>the great trees that overhung the bank and -by one that had been fallen a long time and -was now lodged in the water. As I looked -towards the shore, I exclaimed, ‘Here we -are indeed in a great wilderness. What -strangeness is concealed in this boundless -wood? what wonder may at any time issue -from it, or fierce monster not be lurking in -the waters beneath us?’ Through the day -the cries of both birds and beasts were heard, -but not always. It was often so strangely -quiet that we were more affected thereby -than by the sounds that at times issued forth. -At night there was great howling, as we -were told, of wolves, and the hooting of -owls, and often there plunged into the stream -wild stags that swam near to our boat. But -greater than all else, to our discomfort, were -the great sunken trunks of trees that were -across the channel, where the water was of -no great depth."</p> - -<p class='c001'>What a change! and would that this old -traveller could revisit the Delaware to-day. -My boat is free again and the mists are gone. -Through the trees are sifted the level sunbeams. -There is at least a chance now to -compare notes. The forest is now a field, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>the trackless marsh a meadow; wild life is -largely a thing of the past; silence, both day -and night, replaces sound. No, not that; -but only the minor sounds are left. There -are still the cry of the fish-hawk and the sweet -song of the thrush. No stags now swim the -river, but there remain the mink and the -musk-rat. It has not been long since I saw -a migration of meadow-mice, and at night, I -am sure, many an animal dares to breast the -stream, a mile wide though it be. Too -cunning to expose itself by day, it risks its -life at night; and how tragic the result when, -nearly at the journey’s end, it is seized by a -lurking foe; dragged down, it may be, by a -snake or a turtle!</p> - -<p class='c001'>The world is just as full of tragedy as ever, -and, let us hope, as full of comedy. In a -bit of yonder marsh, above which bends the -tall wild rice, there is daily enacted scene -after scene as full of import as those which -caused the very forest to tremble when the -wolf and panther quarrelled over the elk or -deer that had fallen.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It has been insisted upon that a goal-less -journey is necessarily a waste of time. If -on foot, we must keep forever on the go; if -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>in a boat, we must keep bending to the oars. -It is this miserable fallacy that makes so many -an out-door man and woman lose more than -half of that for which they went into the -fields. Who cares if you did see a chippy at -every turn and flushed a bittern at the edge -of the marsh? If you had been there before -them, and these birds did the walking, you -would have gone home the wiser. It is not -the mere fact that there are birds that concerns -us, but what are they doing? why are -they doing it? This the town-pent people -are ever anxious to know, and the facts cannot -be gathered if you are forever on the move. -Suppose I rush across the river and back, -what have I seen? The bottom of the boat. -I came to see the river and the sky above, -and if this is of no interest to the reader, let -him turn the leaf.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Does every storm follow the track of the -sun? As the sun rose there were clouds -in the east and south and a haziness over -the western sky. Had I asked a farmer as -to the weather probabilities, he would have -looked everywhere but due north. Why -does he always ignore that quarter? There -may be great banks of cloud there, but they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>go for nothing. “Sou-east” and “sou-west” -are forever rung in your ears, but never a word -of the north. Sometimes I have thought it -may be for this reason that about half the -time the farmer is all wrong, and the heaviest -rains come when he is most sure that the day -will be clear.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Looking upward, for the sky was clear in -that direction now, I saw that there were birds -so far above me that they appeared as mere -specks. Very black when first seen, but occasionally -they flashed as stars seen by day -from the bottom of a well. They could not -be followed, except one that swept swiftly -earthward, and the spreading tail and curve -of wings told me it was a fish-hawk. What -a glorious outlook from its ever-changing -point of view! From its height, it could -have seen the mountains and the ocean, and -the long reach of river valley as well. If the -mists obscure it all, why should a bird linger -in the upper air? The prosy matter of food-getting -has nothing to do with it. While in -camp on Chesapeake Bay, I noticed that the -fish-hawks were not always fishing, and often -the air rang with their strange cries while -soaring so far overhead as to be plainly seen -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>only with a field-glass. Every movement suggested -freedom from care as they romped in -the fields of space. It is not strange that -they scream, or laugh, shall we say? when -speeding along at such rate and in no danger -of collision. If I mistake not, the cry of -exultation is coincident with the downward -swoop, and I thought of old-time yelling -when dashing down a snow-clad hill-side; -but how sober was the work of dragging the -sled up-hill! The hawks, I thought, were -silent when upward bound. If so, there is -something akin to humanity in the hawk -nature.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I have called the cry of the fish-hawk a -“laugh,” but, from a human stand-point, do -birds laugh? It is extremely doubtful, though -I recall a pet sparrow-hawk that was given -to playing tricks, as I called them, and the -whole family believed that this bird actually -laughed. Muggins, as we named him, had a -fancy for pouncing upon the top of my head -and, leaning forward, snapping his beak in my -face. Once an old uncle came into the room -and was treated in this fashion. Never having -seen the bird before, he was greatly astonished, -and indignant beyond measure when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>the hawk, being rudely brushed off, carried -away his wig. Now the bird was no less -astonished than the man, and when he saw -the wig dangling from his claws he gave a -loud cackle, unlike anything we had ever -heard before, and which was, I imagine, -more an expression of amusement than of -surprise. I think this, because afterwards I -often played the game of wig with him, to -the bird’s delight, and he always “laughed” -as he carried off the prize. On the contrary, -the unsuccessful attempt to remove natural -hair elicited no such expression, but sometimes -a squeal of disgust.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the <cite>Spectator</cite> of October 1, 1892, page -444, I find a most thoughtful article, entitled -“The Animal Sense of Humor,” and I quote -as follows: “The power of laughter is peculiar -to man, and the sense of humor may be -said, generally speaking, to be also his special -property.” Again, “We never saw the -slightest approach to amusement in one animal -at the mistakes of another, though dogs, so far -as we can venture to interpret their thoughts, -do really feel amusement at the mistakes of -men.” Possibly the author is right, but do -not cats show a sense of humor at the rough-and-tumble -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>gambols of their kittens? Is not -the sly cuff on the ear that sends a kitten -sprawling indicative of a sense of fun on the -part of tabby? Our author says, “so far as -we can venture to interpret their thoughts.” -"Ay, there’s the rub." No one can tell how -far it is safe to venture, but I go a great deal -beyond my neighbors. Our author concludes, -“In animals, as in man, humor is -the result of civilization, and not as we understand -it, a natural and spontaneous development.” -I cannot subscribe to this. I know -little of domestic animals, but have got the -idea of an animal’s sense of humor from wild -life, and confirmed it by what I have seen -of cats and dogs.</p> - -<p class='c001'>While I have been drifting, and using my -eyes and ears instead of legs and arms, as is -advocated, the clouds, too, have been creeping -this way, and, while the morning is yet -fresh, it is certainly going to rain. Had I -consulted the barometer, I would have known -this; but then, knowing it, might I not have -stayed at home? Why not enjoy part of a -day? That the rain will soon be here does -not diminish one’s pleasure, unless there is a -fear of getting wet, and this is all too common. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>I hope that it does not mean that you -have but one suit of clothes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The approaching rain, the increasing -cloudiness, the shut-in appearance, made the -river exceedingly attractive. With the down-dropping -clouds dropped down the birds, -and the swallows now skimmed the water as -they had been skimming the sky. The fish-hawks -departed, but a host of land-birds -crossed the stream, as if comparing the shelter -afforded by the cedars on one side and pines -on the other. These birds chattered as they -flew by, and turned their heads up- and downstream, -as if curious as to all that might be -going on. Suddenly the water ceased to be -rippled, and far down-stream a cloud appeared -to have reached the river. It was the rain. -It seemed to march very slowly, and every -drop made a dimple on the river’s breast. -Then I could hear the on-coming host, the -sound having a distinct bell-like tinkle as each -drop touched the surface and disappeared. -A curious effect, too, was produced by the -wind or the varying density of the cloud -above, in that the drops were very near together -where I happened to be, and much -farther apart and larger some distance beyond -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>the boat. I could of course make no measurements, -but appearances suggested that in -the middle of the river the drops were less -numerous in the proportion of one to five. -Does it usually rain harder over land than -over water? Heretofore I had seen the rain -upon the river while on shore, and was now -very glad to have been caught adrift, so as to -observe it from a new point of view. It -was a beautiful sight, well worth the thorough -wetting that I got and which drove me home -soon after with pleasant thoughts of my goalless -journey.</p> - -<div id='i187' class='figcenter id005'> -<img src='images/i_203.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic003'> -<p><em>The Camp-Fire</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch15' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>FIFTEENTH</div> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='Chapter Fifteenth: Footprints'><em>FOOTPRINTS</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='drop-capa0_3_0_5 c017'>While the camp-fire was smoking, for -the wood was green and I was willing -that my companion should worry over it, I -strolled up the long, sandy beach with no particular -object in mind and quite ready to meet -and parley with any creature that I overtook. -I saw only evidences of what had been there, -or what I supposed had been. There were -tracks that I took to be those of herons, and -others that suggested a raccoon in search of -crayfish. Here and there a mouse had hurried -by. What lively times had been kept up -at low tide within sight of the tent door! and -yet we knew nothing of it. But these tracks -were not well defined, and therefore why -not misinterpreted? I have not suggested all -the possibilities of the case—— Here my -meditations were checked by the call to -breakfast, but I took up the subject again as I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>walked alone in the woods, for I was but -the companion of a worker, not one myself.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It occurred to me that when we read of -hunters, or perhaps have followed a trapper -in his rounds, we have been led to think that -footprints are animal autography that the -initiated can read without hesitation. To -distinguish the track of a rabbit from that of -a raccoon is readily done, and we can go -much further, and determine whether the -animal was walking or running, made a leap -here or squatted there; but can we go to any -length, and decipher every impress an animal -may have made in passing over the sand or -mud? I think not. I have seen a twig sent -spinning a long distance up the beach at low -tide, making a line of equidistant marks that -were extremely life-like in appearance. A -cloud of dead leaves have so dotted an expanse -of mud that a gunner insisted there -had been a flock of plover there a few moments -before he arrived. All depends, or -very much does, on the condition of the surface -marked. If very soft and yielding, the -plainest bird-tracks may be distorted, and a -mere dot, on the other hand, may have its -outline so broken as to appear as though made -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>by a bird or mammal. Still, tracks are a -safe guide in the long run, and, whether -our opinion as to them be correct or not, the -rambler finds something worth seeing, and -he goes on anything but a wild-goose chase -who sometimes finds himself mistaken. It -is well to check our confidence occasionally -and realize the limits of our power.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Opportunity afforded while in camp, and -I made a short study of footprints. With -a field-glass I noted many birds, and then -going to the spot, examined the impressions -their feet had made. A night-heron did not -come down flatly upon its feet with outspread -toes, and so the tracks were quite different -from the impressions made when the bird -walked. Crows, I noticed, both hopped -and walked, and the marks were very different, -the former being broad and ill-defined -in comparison with the traces of the same -bird’s stately tread. Had the bird not been -seen, any one would have supposed two creatures -had been keeping close company, or that -some one individual had passed by in the -very path of another. The purple grakle -and red-winged blackbird made tracks too -much alike to be distinguished, yet these -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>birds have not the same size or shape of foot. -A water-snake came up over the mud and -left a line of marks upon the sand that could -not be recognized as that of any animal, except -it might be a faint resemblance to the trail -of a mussel. I chased a dozen crayfish over -a mud flat, and their backward and sidewise -leapings caused an old gunner to say there -had been plover about. A blue-winged teal -made a long double line of dents in the sand -before it rose clear of the beach, and these -were very like many a footprint I had previously -seen. What, then, must we think of -the fossil footprints of which so much has -been written? As different species, a long -series of these impressions in the rock have -been described and given high-sounding titles. -I am not entitled to an opinion, but have -doubts, nevertheless, of the wisdom of considering -every slightly different form as made -by a different creature. I have given my -reasons, and will only add another instance, -one of greater significance than all as bearing -upon the question. I startled a slumbering -jumping-mouse last summer and it -bounded across the smooth sand bared by the -outgoing tide. Its track then was one made -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>by its body rather than the extremities, and -a curious dent in the river-shore’s smooth -surface it was; but before taking again to the -woods it walked in its peculiar way, and the -little footprints were quite distinct and unmistakably -those of a small mammal. Had -the two sets of markings been preserved in -a slab of sandstone, no ichnologist would -have recognized the truth, but probably would -have said, “Here is a case where some leaping -creature has overtaken a small rodent and -devoured it.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Difficult as fossil footprints may be to decipher, -they call up with wonderful distinctness -the long ago of other geologic ages. It -is hard to realize that the stone of which our -houses are built once formed the tide-washed -shore of a primeval river or the bed of a lake -or ocean gone long before man came upon -the scene.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But the footprints of to-day concern me -more. Looking over the side of the boat, I -saw several mussels moving slowly along and -making a deep, crooked groove in the ripple-marked -sand, “streaking the ground with -sinuous trace,” as Milton puts it; and the -school of blunt-headed minnows made little -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>dents in the sand wherever the water was shallow, -when they turned suddenly and darted -off-shore. This sand seemed very unstable, -and a little agitation of the water caused -many a mark to be wiped out; and yet we -find great slabs of ripple-marked and foot-marked -sandstone. I picked up such a piece -not long ago on which were rain-drop marks. -This is the story of a million years ago; but -who ever found Indian moccasin-marks not -two centuries old? The footprints that -could tell us many a wonderful story are all -gone and the tale of a rain-drop remains. -This is a bit aggravating. Here where we -have pitched our camp, or very near it, was -a Swedish village in 1650 and later, and for -two days I have been hunting for evidence -of the fact,—some bit of broken crockery, -rusty nail, glass, pewter spoon, anything,—but -in vain. History records the village, and -correctly, without a doubt, but there are no -footprints here, nor other trace to show that -a white man ever saw the place until our tent -was pitched upon the beach.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Towards evening I had occasion to renew -my youth,—in other words, “run on an -errand,” as my mother put it,—and going half -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>a mile through the woods, I came to a narrow -but well-worn path. This was so akin -to my footprint thoughts of the morning that I -gladly followed it instead of making a short -cut. It was fortunate, for the path led directly -to where I wished to go, and our theoretical -geography, as usual, was terribly out -of joint. As it was, on the edge of an old -village I found a very old man in a very old -house. His memory as to the earlier half of -the century was excellent, and he gave me -the desired information and more. I spoke -of the path through the woods, and he -chuckled to himself.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Through the woodses, eh? Well, when -I made the path, goin’ and comin’ through -the brush that wasn’t shoulder-high, there was -no trees then. That was more’n forty years -ago.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>"No, John, ’twa’n’t," piped a weak voice -from the interior of the little cottage; -“’twa’n’t mor’n——”</p> - -<p class='c001'>"Laws, man, don’t mind her. She disputes -the almanac, and every winter gets in -New Year’s ahead of Christmas."</p> - -<p class='c001'>I did not stop to argue the matter, but -hurried campward, glad that, if I could find -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>no footprints of human interest and historic, -I at least had followed a path made forty -years ago,—a path that had been worn among -bushes and now led through a forest. It was -indeed suggestive. By the camp-fire that -night I vowed to plant a forest where now -there was but a thicket, and in my dreams -I walked through a noble wood.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Think how much might be done to beautify -the world, and how little is accomplished.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch16' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>SIXTEENTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='CHAPTER SIXTEENTH: BEES AND BUCKWHEAT'><em>FOOTPRINTS</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='drop-capa0_3_0_5 c017'>The great storm of yesterday cleared the -air as well as cleaned the beaches, and -the river was fresh and sparkling as though -the tempest had added new life, so that the -listless midsummery water was now as champagne, -“with beaded bubbles winking at the -brim.” The air was heavy with sweetness -and with song, the fields and meadows painted -as the rose. The buckwheat was in bloom, -and a million bees were humming. The -pasture was gay with pink gerardia, or reflected -the summer sky where the day-flower -blossomed. There was no commingling of -these late flowers. Each had its own acre, -exercised squatter sovereignty, and allowed -no trespassing. The only evidence of man’s -interference, except the buckwheat-field, was -a dilapidated worm-fence, and this is one of -several instances where beauty increases hand -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>in hand with decay. The older such a fence, -the better; when merely a support for Virginia -creeper or the rank trumpet-vine, it is -worthy the rambler’s regard. Wild life long -ago learned what a safe snug-harbor such -ruined fences offer. It puzzles even a mink -to thread their mazes, and the shy rabbit that -has its “form” in a brier-hidden hollow of -the crooked line feels that it is safe.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There are traces of these old fences of -which no record remains, placed perhaps by -the very earliest settler in a tract that he had -cleared and which has since gone back to an -almost primitive state. In an old woodland -I once traced a fence by the long line of cypripediums -in bloom, which were thriving in -the mould of decayed fence-rails, a pretty if -not permanent monument to departed worth.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A word more of these old fences in winter. -When the snow beats across the field, it stops -here and gracefully curves above it, arching -the rails and vines until all is hidden, unless -it be some lonely projecting stake, by which -alone it communicates with the outside world. -I rashly attempted once to go across-lots over -a new country, and made a discovery. The -snow-bound fence was but a drift, I thought, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>but it proved to be far different. The thick -mat of hardy growths had kept back the snow, -which was but a roof and did not wholly exclude -the light. For some distance I could -dimly make out the various growths, and each -little cedar stood up as a sentinel. A loud -word sounded and resounded as if I had spoken -in an empty room or shouted in a long -tunnel. The coldest day in the year could -not inconvenience any creature that took -shelter here, and I found later that life, both -furred and feathered, knew the old fence far -better than I did.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But this is the last day but one of August, -and so nominally the end of summer. Only -nominally, for these flowery meadows and -sweet-scented fields contradict the almanac. -This quiet nook in the Delaware meadows -offers no intimation of autumn until October, -and late in the month at that. The bees and -buckwheat will see to this, or seem to, which -is just as much to the purpose. To-day along -the old worm-fence are many kingbirds, and, -although mute, they are not moping. There -is too much insect life astir for that. With -them are orioles and bluebirds, the whole -making a loose flock of perhaps a hundred -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>birds. The bluebirds are singing, but in a -half-hearted, melancholy way, reminding me -of an old man who spent his time when over -ninety in humming “Auld Lang Syne.” Before -the buckwheat has lost its freshness these -birds will all be gone, but at what time the -bluebirds part company with the others I do -not know. They certainly do not regularly -migrate, as do the others. There was a colony -of them that lived for years in and about my -barn, and one was as sure to see them in -January as in June. No English sparrows -could have been more permanently fixed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>When the buckwheat is ripe and the fields -and meadows are brown, there will be other -birds to take their place. Tree-sparrows from -Canada and white-throats from New England -will make these same fields merry with music, -and the tangle about the old fence will ring -with gladness. But it is August still, and why -anticipate? High overhead there are black -specks in the air, and we can mark their course, -as they pass, by the bell-like <em>chink-chink</em> that -comes floating earthward. It is one of the -sounds that recall the past rather than refer -to the present. The reed-bird of to-day was -a bobolink last May. His roundelay that told -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>then of a long summer to come is now but a -single note of regret that the promised summer -is a thing of the past. It is the Alpha and -Omega of the year’s song-tide. Not that we -have no other songs when the reed-bird has -flown to the Carolina rice-fields. While I -write, a song-sparrow is reciting reminiscences -of last May, and there will be ringing -rounds of bird-rejoicing from November to -April. Still, the initial thought holds good: -bobolink in May, and only a reed-bird in -August; the beginning and the end; the herald -of Summer’s birth and her chief mourner; -Alpha and Omega.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Where the brook that drains the meadow -finds its way, the little rail-birds have congregated. -Many spent their summer along -the Musketaquid, where Thoreau spent his -best days, but they bring no message from -New England. They very seldom speak -above a whisper. Not so the king-rail. He -chatters as he threads the marsh and dodges -the great blue barrier that sweeps above the -cat-tail grasses and has to be content with a -sparrow or a mouse.</p> - -<p class='c001'>These late August days are too often overfull, -and one sees and hears too much,—so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>very much that it is hard to give proper heed -to any one of the many sights and sounds. -But how much harder to turn your back upon -it! All too soon the sun sinks into the golden -clouds of the western sky.</p> - -<p class='c001'>That was a happy day when the buckwheat -was threshed in the field, on a cool, clear, -crisp October morning. The thumping of -the Hails on the temporary floor put the world -in good humor. No bird within hearing but -sang to its time-keeping. Even the crows -cawed more methodically, and squirrels -barked at the same instant that the flail sent -a shower of brown kernels dancing in the -air. The quails came near, as if impatient -for the grains eyes less sharp than theirs would -fail to find. It was something at such a time -to lie in the gathering heap of straw and join -in the work so far as to look on. That is a -boy’s privilege which we seldom are anxious -to outgrow. A nooning at such a time meant -a fire to warm the dinner, and the scanty time -allowed was none too short for the threshers -to indulge in weather prognostications. This -is as much a habit as eating, and to forego it -would be as unnatural as to forego the taking -of food. As the threshers ate, they scanned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>the surroundings, and not a tree, bush, or -wilted weed but was held to bear evidence -that the coming winter would be “open” or -“hard,” as the oldest man present saw fit to -predict. No one disputed him, and no one -remembered a week later what he had said, -so the old man’s reputation was safe.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The buckwheat threshed, the rest is all a -matter of plain prose. Stay! In the coming -Indian summer there was always a bee-hunt. -The old man whom we saw in the buckwheat-field -in October was our dependence for wild -honey, which we fancied was better than that -from the hives. He always went alone, -carrying a wooden pail and a long, slender -oaken staff. How he found the bee-trees so -readily was a question much discussed. “He -smells it,” some one suggested; “He hears -’em a-buzzin’,” others remarked. Knowing -when he was going, I once followed on the -sly and solved the mystery. He went without -hesitation or turning of the head to a -hollow beech, and straightway commenced -operations. I did not stay to witness this, but -came away recalling many a Sunday afternoon’s -stroll with him in these same woods. -What he had seen in August he had remembered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>in December, and, wise man that he -was, said nothing meanwhile. Why, indeed, -should he throw aside the opportunity to pose -as one having superior knowledge, when -others were so persistent in asserting it of -him? There is that much vanity in all men.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But a year later his superior knowledge -failed him. I had found the same tree in my -solitary rambles, and was there ahead of him. -Still, I never enjoyed my triumph. I felt -very far from complimented when he remarked, -as an excuse for his failure, that “a -skunk had been at the only bee-tree in the -woods. He saw signs of the varmint all -about;” and when he said this he looked -directly at me, with his nose in the air.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is winter now, and when in the early -morning I find cakes and honey upon the -breakfast-table, excellent as they are in their -way, they are the better that they call up the -wide landscape of those latter August days -and of frosty October, for I see less of the -morning meal before me than of bees and -buckwheat.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span></div> -<hr class='hrbrk' /> -<div id='ch17' class='column-container'> - <div class='left'>CHAPTER</div> - <div class='right'>SEVENTEENTH</div> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c008' title='CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH: DEAD LEAVES'><em>DEAD LEAVES</em></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='drop-capa0_5_0_5 c017'>I have often wondered why the Indians -did not call November the month of -dead leaves. The out-of-town world is full -of them now. They replace the daisies and -dandelions in the open fields, the violets and -azaleas in the shady woods. They are a prominent -feature of the village street. Many will -cling to the trees the winter long, but millions -are scattered over the ground. Even -on the river I find them floating, borne slowly -by the tide or hurrying across the rippled -surface, chased by the passing breeze.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The pleasure—common to us all—we take -in crushing them beneath our feet savors of -heartlessness. Why should we not recall -their kindness when, as bright-green leaves, -each cast its mite of grateful shade, so dear -to the rambler, and now, when they have -fallen, let them rest in peace? We should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>not be ugly and revengeful merely because it -is winter. There is nothing to fret us in -this change from shade to sunshine, from -green leaves to brown. The world is not -dead because of it. While the sun looks -down upon the woods to-day there arises a -sweet odor, pleasant as the breath of roses. -The world dead, indeed! What more vigorous -and full of life than the mosses covering -the rich wood-mould? Before me, too, -lies a long-fallen tree cloaked in moss greener -than the summer pastures. Not the sea alone -possesses transforming magic; there is also “a -<em>wood</em>-change into something rich and strange.” -Never does the thought of death and decay -centre about such a sight. The chickadee -drops from the bushes above, looks the moss-clad -log over carefully, and, when again poised -on an overhanging branch, loudly lisps its -praises. What if it is winter when you witness -such things? One swallow may not -make a summer, but a single chickadee will -draw the sting from any winter morning.</p> - -<p class='c001'>I never sit by the clustered dead leaves and -listen to their faint rustling as the wind moves -among them but I fancy they are whispering -of the days gone by. What of the vanished -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>springtide, when they first timidly looked -forth? They greeted the returning birds, the -whole merry host of north-bound warblers, -and what startling facts of the bird-world -they might reveal! There is no eye-witness -equal to the leaf, and with them lives and -dies many a secret that even the most patient -ornithologist can never gain. How much -they overhear of what the birds are saying! -to how much entrancing music they listen -that falls not upon men’s ears! What a view -of the busy world above us has the fluttering -leaf that crowns the tall tree’s topmost twig! -Whether in storm or sunshine, veiled in -clouds or beneath a starlit sky, whatsoever -happens, there is the on-looking leaf, a naturalist -worth knowing could we but learn its -language.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A word here as to the individuality of living -leaves. Few persons are so blind as to have -never noticed how leaves differ. Of every -size and shape and density, they have varied -experiences, if not different functions, and -their effect upon the rambler in his wanderings -is by no means always the same. At -high noon, when the midsummer sun strives -to parch the world, let the rambler stand -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>first beneath an old oak and then pass to the -quivering aspen, or pause in the shade of a -way-side locust and then tarry beneath the -cedar, at whose roots the sunshine never -comes. It needs but to do this to realize -that there are leaves and leaves: those that -truly shelter and those that tease you by their -fitfulness.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It is winter now and the leaves are dead; -but, although blighted, they have not lost -their beauty. Heaped in the by-paths of -this ancient wood, they are closely associated -with the pranks of many birds, and for this -alone should be lovingly regarded. Even now -I hear an overstaying chewink—for this is a -warm wood the winter long—tossing them -in little clouds about him as he searches for -the abundant insects that vainly seek shelter -where they have fallen. The birds seem to -seek fun as well as food among the leaves. I -have often watched them literally dive from -the overhanging bushes into a heap of leaves, -and then with a flirt of the wings send dozens -flying into the air. It is hard to imagine any -other purpose than pure sport. When, as -often happens, two or three follow their -leader, I always think of a string of boys diving -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>or playing leap-frog. “Coincidence,” cries -old Prosy, with a wise shake of his head. -Perhaps; but I think old Prosy is a fool.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The strange, retiring winter wren is equally -a lover of dead leaves. He plays with them -in a less boisterous manner, but none the less -delights in tossing them to and fro. It is at -such a time that a few notes of his marvellous -summer song occasionally escape him. The -white-throated sparrows fairly dance among -or upon the heaped-up leaves, and play bo-peep -with the clouds of them they send -aloft; and in February the foxie sparrows -play the same pranks. Squirrels and mice -are equally at home, and abandon all prudence -when they frolic among the windrows. The -more clatter and cackle, the better they are -pleased. When freed from the restraint of -fear, wild life is fun-loving to the very brim.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Dead leaves are never deserted unless the -weather is extremely cold or a storm has -prevailed until they are a sodden mat. Even -from such a wetting they soon recover and -respond to the passing breeze’s gentlest touch. -Dead leaves are the matured fruit of summer, -and what an important part they really play -as the year closes! They are not now of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>air, airy, but of the earth, earthy. Dead, it -is true, yet living. Passive, yet how active! -They are whispering good cheer now to the -sleeping buds that await the coming of a new -year, and faithfully guard them when the -storm rages. For such deeds we owe them -our kindliest thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the golden sunshine of this dreamy day -the leaves have yet another visitor that makes -merry with them. The little whirlwind, -without a herald, springs laughingly upon -them, even when the profoundest quiet reigns -throughout the wood. Touched by this -fairy’s wand, the leaves rise in a whirling -pillar and dance down the narrow path into -some even more secluded nook. Dead leaves, -indeed! Never did the wildest madcap of a -courting bird play livelier pranks.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Time was when I would have searched -the woods for winter-green and worn it gayly. -I am content to-day to carry a withered leaf.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span> - <h2 class='c008'><span class='sc'>Index</span></h2> -</div> - -<ul class='index c019'> - <li class='c020'>A. <em>Allium</em>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Amelanchier</em>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>.</li> - <li><em>Andromeda</em>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>.</li> - <li><em>Ants</em>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>.</li> - <li><em>Arbutus</em>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>.</li> - <li><em>Arrow-point</em>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>.</li> - <li><em>Azalea</em>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>B. <i>Bear</i>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Beaver</em>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>.</li> - <li><em>Beech</em>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>.</li> - <li><em>Birch</em>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>.</li> - <li><em>Bittern</em>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>least</em>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><em>Bittersweet</em>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>.</li> - <li><em>Blackbird</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>.</li> - <li><em>Blueberry</em>, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>.</li> - <li><em>Bluebird</em>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>.</li> - <li><em>Boneset</em>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>.</li> - <li><em>Butterflies</em>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>.</li> - <li><em>Buzzards</em>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>C. <em>Cardinal bird</em>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_80'>80</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Cat-bird</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>.</li> - <li><em>Caterpillar</em>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>.</li> - <li><span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span><em>Catlinite</em>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>.</li> - <li><em>Cat-tail</em>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>.</li> - <li><em>Cedar</em>, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>.</li> - <li><em>Celastrus</em>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>.</li> - <li><em>Centaury</em>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a></li> - <li><em>Centipede</em>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>.</li> - <li><em>Chat</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>.</li> - <li><em>Cherry, wild</em>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>.</li> - <li><em>Chewink</em>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_80'>80</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>.</li> - <li><em>Chickadee</em>, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>.</li> - <li><em>Chimney-swift</em>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>.</li> - <li><em>Clay</em>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>.</li> - <li><em>Clethra</em>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</li> - <li><em>Cougars</em>, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>.</li> - <li><em>Cow-bird</em>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>.</li> - <li><em>Crayfish</em>, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>.</li> - <li><em>Crocus</em>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>.</li> - <li><em>Crow</em>, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>, <a href='#Page_200'>200</a>.</li> - <li><em>Cyperus</em>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>D. <em>Day-flower</em>, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Deer</em>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a></li> - <li><em>Deer-berry</em>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</li> - <li><em>Deutzia</em>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</li> - <li><em>Diver</em>, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>.</li> - <li><em>Dodder</em>, <a href='#Page_116'>116</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>.</li> - <li><em>Dove</em>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>.</li> - <li><em>Dragon-fly</em>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>.</li> - <li><em>Ducks, wild</em>, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>; - <ul> - <li><em>wood-</em>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>E. <em>Eagle</em>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Eel</em>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>.</li> - <li><span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span><em>Elk</em>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</li> - <li><em>Elm</em>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>F. “<em>False-teeth</em>,” <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Finch, indigo</em>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>; - <ul> - <li><em>purple</em>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>;</li> - <li><em>thistle</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><em>Fly-catcher</em>, <a href='#Page_15'>15</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>.</li> - <li><em>Frogs</em>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>G. <em>Galium</em>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Gerardia</em>, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>.</li> - <li><em>Golden-club</em>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>.</li> - <li><em>Grakle</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>.</li> - <li><em>Grosbeak, rose-breasted</em>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>.</li> - <li><em>Gulls</em>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>.</li> - <li><em>Gum-tree</em>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> - -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>H. <em>Harrier</em>, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Hawk, black</em>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>duck-</em>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>.</li> - <li><em>fish-</em>, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>.</li> - <li><em>sparrow-</em>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><em>Heron, blue</em>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>; - <ul> - <li><em>green</em>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>;</li> - <li><em>night</em>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><em>Herons</em>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>.</li> - <li><em>Herring</em>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li> - <li><em>Hickory</em>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>.</li> - <li><em>Holly</em>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>.</li> - <li><em>Honeysuckle</em>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>.</li> - <li><em>Humming-bird</em>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>.</li> - <li><em>Hyla</em>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>I. <em>Indian grass</em>, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>. - <ul> - <li> - <ul> - <li><em>relics</em>, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span><em>Ink-berry</em>, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a>.</li> - <li><em>Iris</em>, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>.</li> - <li><em>Iron-weed</em>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>J. <em>Jasper</em>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Jay, blue-</em>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>.</li> - <li><em>Jerboa</em>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> - -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>K. <em>Kill-deer plover</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>, <a href='#Page_95'>95</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Kingbird</em>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>.</li> - <li><em>Kinglet</em>, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>.</li> - <li><em>King-rail</em>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>L.<em>Leucothoe</em>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Lindera</em>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>.</li> - <li><em>Liquidambar</em>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>.</li> - <li><em>Loon</em>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li> - <li><em>Lotus</em>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>M. <em>Magnolia</em>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Maple</em>, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>.</li> - <li><em>Martin</em>, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>.</li> - <li><em>Mink</em>, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</li> - <li><em>Minnow, mud-</em>, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>.</li> - <li><em>Minnows</em>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>.</li> - <li><em>Mistletoe</em>, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>.</li> - <li><em>Mocking-bird</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li> - <li><em>Moss, club-</em>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>; - <ul> - <li><em>reindeer</em>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><em>Mouse, meadow-</em>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>white-footed</em>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><em>Musk-rat</em>, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</li> - <li><em>Mussel</em>, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'><span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>O.<em>Oak</em>, <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>. - <ul> - <li> - <ul> - <li><em>willow-</em>, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><em>Obsidian</em>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>.</li> - <li><em>Opossum</em>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>.</li> - <li><em>Orioles</em>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>.</li> - <li><em>Oven-bird</em>, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a>.</li> - <li><em>Owl, barn</em>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>P. <em>Panther</em>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Partridge-berry</em>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>.</li> - <li><em>Pepper-bush, sweet</em>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</li> - <li><em>Pike</em>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>.</li> - <li><em>Pine, Weymouth</em>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>.</li> - <li><em>Pinxter flower</em>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</li> - <li><em>Pipilo</em>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>.</li> - <li><em>Plover</em>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>.</li> - <li><em>Plum, wild</em>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</li> - <li><em>Pontederia</em>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>.</li> - <li><em>Poplar, Lombardy</em>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>.</li> - <li><em>Primrose</em>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>.</li> - <li><em>Pyxie</em>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>Q. <em>Quail</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_200'>200</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>R. <em>Rabbit</em>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Raccoon</em>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>.</li> - <li><em>Rail-bird</em>, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>.</li> - <li><em>Raven</em>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>.</li> - <li><em>Red-eye</em>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li> - <li><em>Redstart</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li> - <li><em>Reed-bird</em>, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>.</li> - <li><span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span><em>Reeds</em>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>.</li> - <li><em>Relics, Indian</em>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>.</li> - <li><em>Robin</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>.</li> - <li><em>Rose-mallow</em>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>.</li> - <li><em>Roses</em>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>S. <em>Sand-piper</em>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Saponaria</em>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>.</li> - <li><em>Sedge</em>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>.</li> - <li><em>Shad-bush</em>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>.</li> - <li><em>Snake, garter-</em>, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>water-</em>, <a href='#Page_130'>130</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><em>Snow-birds</em>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</li> - <li><em>Sparrow, chipping</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>foxie</em>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>.</li> - <li><em>song-</em>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a>, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a>.</li> - <li><em>swamp-</em>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>.</li> - <li><em>tree-</em>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>.</li> - <li><em>white-throated</em>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><em>Sphagnum</em>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>.</li> - <li><em>Spice-wood</em>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>.</li> - <li><em>Spiders</em>, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>.</li> - <li><em>Spirea</em>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</li> - <li><em>Squirrel, flying-</em>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>.</li> - <li><em>Sundew</em>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>.</li> - <li><em>Sunfish</em>, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>.</li> - <li><em>Sunflower</em>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>.</li> - <li><em>Swallow, bank</em>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>; - <ul> - <li><em>barn</em>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>T. <em>Tanager, scarlet</em>, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Tea-berry</em>, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a>.</li> - <li><em>Teal, blue-winged</em>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>.</li> - <li><span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span><em>Thorn, white</em>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</li> - <li><em>Thrush, brown</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>.</li> - <li><em>Thrushes</em>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>.</li> - <li><em>Titmouse</em>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>.</li> - <li><em>Trout</em>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>.</li> - <li><em>Trumpet-creeper</em>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>.</li> - <li><em>Tulip-tree</em>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>.</li> - <li><em>Turkey-buzzard</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</li> - <li><em>Turtle, snapping-</em>, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index c000'> - <li class='c020'>V. <em>Vireo, red-eyed</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>; - <ul> - <li> - <ul> - <li><em>white-eyed</em>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -<ul class='index'> - <li class='c020'>W. <em>Warbler, spotted</em>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>. - <ul> - <li> - <ul> - <li><em>tree-creeping</em>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li><em>Warblers</em>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>.</li> - <li><em>Weasel</em>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>.</li> - <li><em>Whippoorwill</em>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>.</li> - <li><em>Winter-green</em>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>.</li> - <li><em>Wolf</em>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</li> - <li><em>Wood-robin</em>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>.</li> - <li><em>Wren</em>, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>. - <ul> - <li><em>Carolina</em>, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>.</li> - <li><em>marsh-</em>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>.</li> - <li><em>winter</em>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>.</li> - </ul> - </li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span> -<img src='images/i_234.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c007' /> -</div> -<p class='c001'><a id='endnote'></a></p> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='large'>Transcriber’s Note</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c001'>Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and -are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. -The following issues should be noted, along with the resolutions.</p> - -<table class='table1' summary=''> -<colgroup> -<col width='12%' /> -<col width='69%' /> -<col width='18%' /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><a id='c_95.10'></a><a href='#corr95.10'>95.10</a></td> - <td class='c009'>Why, on the other hand, wood[ /-]peckers</td> - <td class='c021'>Added.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'><a id='c_140.9'></a><a href='#corr140.9'>140.9</a></td> - <td class='c009'>and often sparse of bloom[,/.] But</td> - <td class='c021'>Replaced.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Travels in a Tree-top, by Charles Conrad Abbott - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAVELS IN A TREE-TOP *** - -***** This file should be named 55805-h.htm or 55805-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/8/0/55805/ - -Produced by KD Weeks, ellinora and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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