262 THE INVITATION. 



ently it returned, flying up; then it came 

 back again, and sweeping low around a bend, 

 prepared to alight in a still, dark reach in 

 the creek which was hidden from my view. 

 As I passed that way about half an hour 

 afterward, the duck started up, uttering its 

 wild alarm note. In the stillness I could 

 hear the whistle of its wings and the splash 

 of the water when it took flight. Near by 

 I saw where a raccoon had come down to 

 the water for fresh clams, leaving his long, 

 sharp track in the mud and sand. Before 

 I had passed this hidden stretch of water, a 

 pair of those mysterious thrushes, the gray- 

 cheeked, flew up from the ground, and 

 perched on a low branch. 



Who can tell how much this duck, this 

 footprint in the sand, and these strange 

 thrushes from the far North, enhanced the 

 interest and charm of the autumn woods ? 



Ornithology cannot be learned satisfac- 

 torily from the books. The satisfaction is 

 in learning it from nature. One must have 

 an original experience with the birds. The 

 books are only the guide, the invitation. 

 Though there remain not another new spe- 

 cies to describe, any young person with 

 health and enthusiasm has opened to him or 



