Birds oi Buzzard's Roost 



Maly and I parted, and I resumed my tramp in earnest. I 

 followed the rivulet to its confluence with Fall Creek ; then 

 went to Vandercook's, where I found a pair of blue jays build- 

 ing their nest in a cedar on the front lawn. I then left the 

 fields for what once was known as Ghost Hollow. In less 

 than a half mile I was into the hills and woods. I knew these 

 hills when I was a boy. Then they were covered with great old 

 poplars, oaks, walnuts, elms and other forest trees. Most of 

 these had been cut down, and a younger growth had taken 

 their place. After awhile I came to an old rail fence on the 

 west of the Vandercook farm and climbed over it about two 

 hundred feet to the south of The Cottage. Before me was a 

 veritable wildwood. It was primitive. No stock had ever pas- 

 tured in it. The buckeye and tulip trees were unfolding their 

 beautiful foliage. The May flowers were just beginning to 

 bloom. The anemones, pepper and salt, bloodroot, spring 

 beauties, celandine poppies, hepaticas, trilliums and many 

 other wild flowering plants garlanded the hill. This dense for- 

 est that I was entering was a bird paradise and resonant with 

 bird song. 



I had scarcely entered into this wild place when I came 

 upon the prostrate trunk of a tulip tree a magnificent speci- 

 men of its kind. It was about seventy feet in length to its 

 first branches. No doubt it had been cut down by thoughtless 

 hunters for a raccoon. Then I began the ascent of the hill, 

 upon which a duplicate of my father's cabins have been built. 

 When near the crest I heard a noise to my right of something 

 tramping through the leaves. My first thought was that it 

 was the passing of some wild animal. But, looking in the di- 

 rection of the noise, I noticed coming up over the side of the 

 hill from where the cottage stands, a man who looked much 

 like the worst tramp that I had ever seen. His felt hat drooped 

 over his forehead. His beard was sandy and cropped to about 

 an inch in length. He was dressed in a brown wamus, a 

 pair of overalls of like color and a colored woolen shirt, and 

 was carrying in his hand a sycamore pole, like a fishing rod, 

 say, ten feet long. I confess I was somewhat alarmed when 

 I saw him approaching, for I must pass immediately in front 

 of him. I made up my mind to make the best of my situation, 



