XI. 

 SOME OF THE WILD THINGS 



ON Sunday, May 30, 1897, while the 

 church bells were calling saint and sinner to 

 worship in the city of Gloucester, and a cat- 

 bird's blithe music, supplemented by the sil- 

 very bells of a veery, was calling me to wor- 

 ship in my cabin dooryard, I turned to the 

 path that leads to Magnolia Swamp. 



Two years before, on the west side of the 

 swamp, I had discovered a woodpecker's sap 

 orchard. For two seasons I had carefully 

 noted the work of the woodpeckers in their 

 curious method of tapping trees, and I de- 

 sired now to add to my knowledge by a few 

 hours of observation. 



It was a glorious morning, bright with sun- 

 shine, tempered by a crisp air. It was one 

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