82 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 
home late that night with frost-bitten faces and ears, 
and without a sight of the eggs of the northern raven. 
The next day we took a train, and traveled forty 
miles down the river to where, on a cliff overhanging 
the water, a pair of ravens had nested for the last 
fifty years. There we found numerous old nests, 
but never a trace of any that were fresh. There too 
we found a magnificent wild turkey hanging dead in 
a little apple tree; it had come to a miserable end by 
catching the toes of one foot in between two twigs 
in such a way that it could not release itself. The 
bright red color of its legs distinguished it from a 
tame turkey. The Collector confided to me that the 
ambition of his life was to find the nest of a wild 
turkey, which is the rarest of all Pennsylvania 
nests. Next to it from a collecting standpoint come 
the nests of the Northern raven, pileated woodpecker, 
and Blackburnian warbler, in the order named. 
March 12, 1919, found me again on a raven hunt 
with the Collector. Before sunrise I was dropped 
from a sleeper at a little mountain station set in a 
hill country full of broad fields, swift streams, and 
leafless trees, flanked by dark belts of pines and 
hemlocks. Beyond the hills was raven-land, lonely, 
wind-swept, full of lavender and misty-purple moun- 
tains, with now and then a gap showing in their ram- 
parts. It was in these gaps that the ravens nested, 
always on the north side, farthest from the sun. 
Nearby was Treaster’s Valley, which old Dan 
Treaster won from a pack of black wolves before the 
