72 ON THE BIRDS' HIGHWAY 



reached my ears, and as I climbed the 

 stone wall and struck out across the fields, 

 numerous cowbirds rose from the grass 

 and sought a willow-shaded lane in advance 

 of me. 



Hog Island (every bay has its Hog 

 Island) and Rhode Island itself lay toward 

 the southwest, where the great fans of 

 three old shingled windmills stood out 

 against the sky. I followed the shore to 

 the extreme point where Bristol Light is 

 situated, and the keeper bemoaned, as did 

 all those " along shore," the loss of some 

 wharf or breakwater by the ice last winter. 

 It is an interesting spot, Bristol Point. 

 The channel, only a mile wide, is thirteen 

 fathoms deep and the tide rushes in and 

 out with great force. Coming from the 

 Atlantic, sixteen miles away, and striving 

 to reach Mount Hope Bay through this 

 narrow gut, makes it one of the places 

 dangerous to navigation in Narragansett 

 Bay. 



On the eastern side of the point, stretch- 

 ing back from a wall of low cliffs, is a 

 patch of woods known as the "Junipers." 

 This is now used as a cow pasture, and 

 when rambling through the labyrinth of 



