CHAPTER II. 



GLIMPSES OF WILD-CATS. 



To the world-wide traveler, the little stretch of mead- 

 ows that intervene between my house and the river are, 

 no doubt, exceedingly tame and uninviting; neverthe- 

 less, to me they possess innumerable charms ; and I never 

 weary of looking at them from the brow of the terrace 

 that forms their eastward boundary. To me, indeed, 

 they are as varied as a checker-board ; and a bird's-eye 

 glance at them, such as one gets from the terrace, sug- 

 gests this comparison. In about equal proportions they 

 are separated by creeks and ditches into high and dry, and 

 low and wet ; not divided into two great parts, but rather 

 into a series of equal parts, evenly distributed. 



In June, 1860, there was a remarkable fall of rain, 

 lasting from the 1st to the 4th of the month. The 

 rainfall measured a little more than six inches, and as 

 the storm extended well up the river, the stream was 

 enormously swollen ; in other words, we had a summer 

 freshet that submerged the meadows to the depth of 

 from six to ten feet. This, of course, upset the calcula- 

 tions of the meadow-haunting birds, who had either to con- 

 form to the new order of things, or else to quit the neigh- 

 borhood. Fortunately, the latter alternative was accepted 

 by but few. As a result, I was astonished to find king- 

 rails and woodcocks, and even the timid least bittern in 

 the nearest high, dry, upland fields, skulking among the 

 bushes that grew in the angles of the worm-fences. The 



