CHAPTER XI 



SPRING ON THE KANKAKEE 



The cup of the bird-lover is full who is permitted to wan- 

 der along the Kankakee's wooded banks or to float in a boat 

 on its bosom during the early May time. It is a varied bird- 

 life that makes glad this river valley. The wood ducks nest 

 in the timber, the golden plover dot the meadows, the sand- 

 pipers bob on the river bars, the tree swallows dip in the 

 waters, and warblers in thousands haunt the treetops. In 

 the early morning hours river, woodland, and marsh ring with 

 the bird chorus. 



It was warbler time, the first week in May, when three of 

 us having a common hobby left the great city and took the 

 way which led to the pleasant river valley. My companions 

 were of the gentler sex, but with a keen enthusiasm and an 

 untiring perseverance in the pursuit of field study. Our train 

 drew into the little village of Kouts, Indiana, where we found 

 waiting a comfortable democrat wagon which was to take us 

 the last stage of our journey, five miles across country to the 

 banks of the Kankakee. It was after sundown, but some 

 sparrow songs floated to us from across the fields and an 

 oriole whistled good night from an elm. Our host had met 

 us, and as we drove along through the deepening dusk, he 

 told us that the whippoorwill had come. It was a bit of 

 superfluous information, for at that instant, from a little 

 stretch of timber at the side of the road, the bird he had 

 named called to us softly. Its voice gained in volume as it 



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