362 AMERICAN GAME BIRD SHOOTING 
death has touched their shining heads. Years ago 
these bluffs were studded from base to crest with large 
oak trees, scattered more or less along the slopes, and 
more abundant and dense of foliage around the sides 
and heads of the numerous ravines. Where they hap- 
pened to fall, the rich verdure of the white birch gen- 
erally filled their places, and in the bottoms of the ra- 
vines and along the base of the slopes the crab-apple 
and wild plum and scrub oak formed abundant cover. 
Everywhere along the hills the ground below the trees 
was densely carpeted with green, upon which the sun- 
light flittered in a thousand shades through the open- 
ings in the leaves above. And yet the walking was 
always good, and the view generally free in all direc- 
tions beneath. 
It was one of the fairest days in 1867 that, with a 
friend and two dogs, I first roamed these pleasant 
shades and found my old friend in a new kind of 
home. From nearly the foot of the bluffs, where the 
outer guard of soft maple and white-oak saplings be- 
gan to encroach on the black oak of the hills, to very 
near the top, where the birch was flying its bright 
green flag from its snowy staff, the dogs were soon 
racing to and fro, while we were strolling along be- 
hind them, half way up the hillside. We soon came to 
a shallow ravine where the ferns and the prairie grass 
that covered the ground were taller and greener, and 
the shade of the black oak and maple was deeper and 
cooler than on the rest of the hillside. The elder dog, 
named Jack, had hunted such ground before and 
