THE FALL OF THE YEAR 



It must have been in the spring of my fourteenth { 

 >year when, at last, I found myself beneath the eagle 



tree. It was a stark old white oak, almost limbless, , 

 |\/and Banding out alone on the marsh some distance \ 



,from the swamp. The eagle's nest capped its very ( > 

 V /top. 



^V , The nest, I knew, must be big; but not until I J- 

 ^had climbed up close under it did I realize that it ', 

 \ was the size of a small haystack. There was certainly Jj 

 > half a cord of wood in it. I think that it must orig- \ 

 ^ Tinally have been built by fish hawks. 



Holding to the forking top upon which the nest 

 *,was placed, I reached out, but could not touch the | 

 ''edge from any side. 



ij I had come determined to get up into it, however, v ..; 

 at any hazard; and so I set to work. I never thought j^Y 

 ,|- ;\ /of how I was to get down ; nor had I dreamed, 

 ! ? ^either, of fearing the eagles. A bald eagle is a bully. 

 * - 1 would as soon have thought of fearing our hissing 

 HJfold gander at home. 



As I could not get out to the edge of the nest | J 

 ( and scale the walls, the only possible way up, appar- \ .{ 

 gently, was through the nest. The sticks here in the < ^ 

 >ottom were old and quite rotten. Digging was easy, ( \ 

 and I soon had a good beginning. 



The structure was somewhat cone-shaped, the 

 [ smaller end down. It had grown in circumference as 



