8 HOMING WITH THE BIRDS 



rounded by a large, tree-filled dooryard, south of 

 which was a garden, bright with flowers and 

 shrubs. Behind the dooryard spread a very large 

 orchard filled with apple trees and bordered with 

 peach trees on three sides, with rare peach, plum, 

 and pear trees on the fourth. A lane ran from the 

 barnyard to a woods pasture where much of the 

 heavy timber had been cut away leaving only a 

 few large trees interspersed with berry bushes and 

 thickets of wild rose and elder. Three streams 

 of running water crossed the place, one flowing 

 through the woods and rounding the foot of a steep 

 hill south of the residence. A smaller one flowed 

 in a parallel direction on the north, both emptying 

 into a larger stream coming from the north through 

 our meadow and joining the Wabash River several 

 miles south of us. 



The land was new, a large part of it having been 

 cleared and put into cultivation by my father. 

 All of the wild growth was much ranker and more 

 luxuriant than at the present time, while this was 

 true also of everything we cultivated. My mother 

 used the natural fertilizer from the poultry house 

 and stable in her garden; the cleanings from the 

 barn were scattered over the fields; but no other 

 fertilizer ever was talked of at that time. 



The flowers and all growth were more luxuriant 

 than now because the soil was young, the tem- 

 perature more equable. Summer always brought 

 heavy rains every few days; long periods of heat 



