morris ALGONQUIN DAYS 41 



how, in the spirit of the place, seemed always to offer silent rebuke 

 to the specialist ; the scales would fall from his eyes, and he would 

 stand and worship nature with the simple faith of a child. 



To clinch the point — in 1920 I came up to the Park hot-foot 

 from a series of plant trips in New York State and Central Ontario. 

 I had orchids on the brain, and nothing would serve but I must 

 work out a problem in the Rattlesnake Plantains (roodyera), 

 of which two species at least were known in the Park. Material 

 lay all about me and not infrequently seemed to give the lie to 

 the voice of authority in the book. I had marked down a fine 

 spike of Menzies' Rattlesnake just over the ridge of the island; 

 it was distinctly not according to book, if the blossoms fulfilled 

 the promise of their buds. "It's a mean thing to contradict an 

 author," I reflected; "but it's just as mean a thing to tell fibs in 

 print, and what if Nature does the contradicting for you?" To 

 make assurance doubly sure, I stepped along a little deer trail 

 through the hazels to examine the plant again. 



It was growing between two windfalls of balsam that formed 

 one side of a sort of natural stockade here six or seven trees caught in a 

 sudden flaw had so fallen as to fence in a small square of ground. 

 In this enclosure I noticed the mottled rosettes of some more of 

 my orchid, and stepped over a tree-trunk to get them. While 

 moving softly about in the space, eyes on the ground and thoughts 

 engrossed with my problem, I suddenly had that strange sense of 

 being no longer alone, which must surely be one of the race's 

 most ancient instincts. I raised my eyes towards the further 

 barrier of fallen trees, and there at the foot of a tiny balsam, 

 partly screened by the leafy branch of a honeysuckle, lay a little 

 fawn fast asleep in a bed of leaves. For some moments I stood 

 frozen, a few paces off, and watched it; presently its eyes opened 

 and it looked straight at me in a calm and steady stare, no trace of 

 either fear or surprise; then it lowered its head, closed its eyes, 

 and snuggled down to sleep again. 



Backing cautiously away, I stepped out of the charmed circle, 

 and after a single glance back at the miracle within the magic 

 ring, hurried down to the tent and brought my wife to share the 

 vision. At first so well screened and inconspicuous lay the fawn 

 that I thought it had gone, but presently the dappled back and 

 side revealed themselves among the leaves. We both watched 



