AUTUMN 41 



hawks. A hairy woodpecker is on one of 

 them at this moment, now hammering the 

 trunk with his powerful beak (hammer and 

 chisel in one), now lifting up his voice in a 

 way to be heard for half a mile. To judge 

 from his ordinary tone and manner, Dryo- 

 bates villosus has no need to cultivate deci- 

 sion of character. Every word is peremp- 

 tory, and every action speaks of energy and 

 a mind made up. 



In this larch swamp, though I have never 

 really explored it, I have seen, first and last, 

 a good many things. Here grows much of 

 the pear-leaved willow (Salix balsamifera). 

 I notice a few bushes even now as I pass, 

 the reddish twigs each with a tuft of yellow- 

 ing, red-stemmed leaves at the tip. Here, 

 one June, a Tennessee warbler sang to me ; 

 and there are only two other places in the 

 world in which I have been thus favored. 

 Here, a little farther up the valley, on 

 a rainy September forenoon, I once sat for 

 an hour in the midst of as pretty a flock of 

 birds as a man could wish to see : south-go- 

 ing travelers of many sorts, whom the for- 

 tunes of the road had thrown together. 



