The Audubon Societies 261 



While traveling along I noticed dozens of old friends among the birds and 

 flowers. I also saw the common mallow and bluebell for the first time. 



We arrived at Truro late at night. My uncle, who used to meet us with a 

 horse and carriage was waiting now with a 'Ford.' ReeHng off the miles toward 

 the old farm in my uncle's car, we could not see much of the surrounding 

 country, but the chill night air, sweeping over the salt marshes and striking us 

 in the face, the bridges, curves, and a few houses seen by the glare of the head- 

 lights were all familiar. 



Arriving at the house we entered the kitchen, had a warm drink over the 

 fire, and went of¥ to bed. I was awakened in the morning by the noise of a 

 clattering Kingbird outside the window and in five minutes was downstairs 

 ready for breakfast. 



The main road coming across the marshes is dotted here and there by 

 solitary farmhouses. Our driveway turns from the main road and climbs a 

 hill. It is shaded by four massive willow trees on either side of the driveway 

 which gives it the name of 'Willow-bank.' 



At the bottom of the hill the marsh grass and swale stretch away on either 

 side, but the hillside on the left contains an orchard that is firm and dry. 



The old house on the hilltop is covered with five-fingered ivy, or woodbine. 

 Nearby are the workshop, the horse- and cattle-barns and the henhouse. 

 Above the barns are dry hay- and wheat-fields and beyond them the pasture 

 and blueberry patch. 



To the left is the road to the old bone-mill, a hundred yards away. The 

 corner of the woods about the old bone-mill is open, save for patches of laurel 

 bushes, and that spot is the haunt of Flickers and Jays. 



The old wood-road runs from there into the woods, and, a few days after 

 my arrival, I decided to explore it. I followed the road for a few miles through 

 the mossy, overgrown timber swamp and caught a baby Junco just out of the 

 nest. I saw a pair of Yellow-bellied Flycatchers, and, after following them 

 about for awhile, I returned home. Nighthawks could be seen everywhere fly- 

 ing high over the burned ground that lay in desolate ruin all about, uttering 

 their strange call-note. 



Returning to the farmhouse I saw a Bittern flying up from the marsh. The 

 next day I hunted flowers and the day after I saw a Blackbumian Warbler and 

 a Sparrow Hawk for the first time. The next day I saw a pair of Fox Sparrows 

 and heard the male sing in the damp, mossy woods back of the bone-mill. 



On rainy days there was no haying to be done and my father and I would 

 lie in the loft in the big barn and watch the Barn Swallows. It was great fun 

 watching the little ones taking their first flights. 



I caught a baby Goldfinch down under the willows and decided to explore 

 farther in that direction. 



Across the road the marshland was rimmed with dykes to keep out the 

 tide. A little red-mud creek, fringed by long marsh grass, ran down to the big 



