The Bo^s of Etcho-wog 35 



ing down the bank to the right, just north of the mill, 

 where cobblestones had been dumped from the fields, I 

 picked my way into the open Bogs of Etchowog, which 

 lie directly east of the pond. 



I wandered up and down through this swamp, 

 finding hundreds of Pitcher Plants, which had begun 

 to nod their crimson buds. Clusters of the Showy 

 Lady's Slippers were springing up on the higher, 

 drier mounds among the lily leaves of Clintonia 

 borealis and Dog's Tooth. Fleur-de-lis grew every- 

 where, while the Poison Ivy flaunted its three-fingered 

 palm on every side. Poison Sumach or Poison Dog- 

 wood, sometimes known as Poison Elder, grows 

 luxuriantly in this swamp, and susceptible people have 

 been poisoned merely by passing above along the road- 

 side. By wearing high hunting-boots and rubber or 

 chamois gloves, however, I am perfectly safe in such 

 places. In fact, I never think of these plants as poison- 

 ous when brushing through the tangles of bushes and 

 blossoming vines. These species of Rhus are in blos- 

 som most of the summer. The juice of the plant is 

 resinous, and the fruit consists of white or dun-colored 

 berries. 



Going back to the roadside to rest, I took out my 

 color-box and attempted to sketch the swamp I had 

 just left. Eastward, rising boldly in the background, 

 towered the Majestic Dome against the sky. In the 

 middle distance, a long line of alders and willow shrubs 

 blended softly into the blues, here and there dashed 

 with the crimson and gold swamp-maple buds; while 



