A Firm Seat 



165 





My canoe is now in Gadwall Cove, grounded so that the 

 view on three sides is nearly unobstructed. I have just 

 finished my lunch. Loosestrife blooms hang almost directly 

 over me and their long purple heads are constantly visited 

 by bees. Big blue flies occasionally approach the canoe and 

 add their buzzing to that of the honey hunters. The wind 

 sweeps the cattails back and forth so that they make a light 

 and pleasing sound as they touch. Now and then I hear a 

 noise which makes me think somebody is near, and I look 

 about to see if the voices come from a boat. I understand why 

 people lost in the woods become confused and think they 

 hear voices because I often note such resemblances when I 

 am out. The streams in the mountains, the whistles or calls 

 of some of the birds, the calling of frogs, and even such small 

 things as the noise of insects frequently resemble the talking 

 or walking of a man. I hear now a sound just behind me that 



