420 



RECREATION. 



minutes before. Probably this was the 

 day shift or the night workers putting in 

 over time. 



One or 2 observations as to some of the 

 older dams on this stream may be of in- 

 terest. I have seen fully an acre of 

 ground, 200 to 300 yards away from the 

 stream, where all the poplar and birch 

 trees had been cut and carried away, leav- 

 ing a clean, open space in the thick woods. 

 How did the fallen trees get to the stream? 

 A careful examination of the ground gave 

 the answer. The trees stood on high 

 ground. A slide had been constructed on 



the hillside, where the logs, after the 

 limbs had been neatly trimmed off, were 

 carried or slid down to the level ground 

 of the creek bottom. Here was a little 

 canal a foot or 2 deep, leading directly to 

 the stream, where the logs had been float- 

 ing down in the same manner as the mod- 

 ern lumberman moves his saw logs. 

 "Working like a beaver" has great signi- 

 ficance. It is to be hoped the Michigan 

 laws prohobiting the killing of beaver may 

 be kept in force permanently, and the ex- 

 termination of these wonderful animals 

 prevented. 



AMATEUR PHOTO BV F, C- EVANS 



SUNNING HIMSELF. 



Winner of 19th Prize in Recreation's 7th Annual 

 Photo Competition. 



SHOOT'N' TIME. 



THOMAS JACKSON. 



When yer head gets full er worry, 



'N' yer appetite is slim, 

 When yer business troubles kinder 



Sap yer confidence 'n' vim ; 



Then it's time to leave yer labors, 

 'N' toward the woodland fly, 



Where the blithesome quails are callin' 

 'N' the geese are honkin' high. 



There you'll feel yer pulses throbbin' 

 At each old familiar sound, 



'N' you'll see the rabbits bobbin' 

 O'er yer happy huntin' ground. 



All the day you roam the thickets, 

 With yer friends on either side ; 



'N' you hear faint voices callin', 

 For no worry can betide. 



Then at evenin', round the camp fire, 

 While you talk yer pleasures o'er, 



You can hear the waves a splashin', 

 As they break on slumber's shore. 



'N' you hear faint voices callin', 



Callin' you to come away; 

 Then in dreamland's fields you wander, 



'N' await the comin' day.. 



So when you are feelin' kinky, 

 'N' you have to force yer food, 



Haste away to Mother Nature, 

 She will always do you good. 



