CATCHING MY FIRST RACCOON 

 and west as far as the Rockies, and I have never 

 yet found a place that equalled the Kankakee 

 swamps, for the variety of game to be found there. 



To make a long story short, in those days it 

 was the hunters' and trappers' paradise, and no 

 wonder he now feels sad at heart when he looks 

 over this once great hunting-ground nov/ the 

 home of the farmer. He can realize how the 

 Redman felt when he had to give up this region 

 to the white hunters. 



V/hen about eight years of age v/e moved to 

 the marsh and lived in a log cabin on Bissel 

 Ridge. In the summer season my father ditched 

 and made hay. The grass v/as cut v/ith a scythe. 

 After being cured it was hauled out of the marsh 

 on a brush to some knoll or ridge and there 

 stacked. In the fall father trapped the fur-bearing 

 animals and shot game for meat, while tending 

 his traps. He would dress the skins at night. I 

 helped getting the bow-stretchers ready and in 

 stringing the dry hides. And v/hen snuffing the 

 candle, no lamps or electric lights v/ere used in 



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