228 



RECREATION 



State who are 21 years of age or over, and 

 there are no initiation fees or annual dues. 

 The association will be supported by volun- 

 tary subscriptions. The 30 organizers 

 started the fund with a contribution of $1 

 each. Applications for membership and 

 contributions of money should be sent to 

 the Secretary, Mr. Alfred Akerman, State 

 forester, at room 7, State House, Boston." 



SPIRITED PICTURES. 



"To secure the spirited moving pictures 

 the public demands, photographers some- 

 times take long chances. One of these had 

 a peculiar experience, with a singular re- 

 sult," says the World's Work. 



"He was a biograph operator, taking pic- 

 tures of a fire department rushing to a 

 fire. Several pieces of apparatus had 

 passed, an engine, hook and ladder com- 

 pany and the chief. The operator with his 

 bulky apparatus, large camera, storage bat- 

 teries, etc., stood in the middle of the street, 

 facing the stream of engines, hose wagons, 

 and fire patrol men. In order to show the 

 contrast, an old time hand pump engine, 

 dragged by a dozen men and boys, came 

 running at full speed down the street, and 

 behind and to one side of them followed a 

 2-horse hose carriage, going like mad. The 

 men running with the engine, not realizing 

 how narrow the space was or unaware of 

 the plunging horses behind, passed the bio- 

 graph man on one side on the dead run. 



"The driver of. the rapidly approaching 

 team saw there was no room for him to 

 pass on the other side of the camera man, 

 and his horses were going too fast to stop 

 in the space that remained. He had but an 

 instant to decide between the dozen men 

 and their antiquated machine and the mov- 

 ing picture outfit. He chose the latter, and 

 with a warning shout to the photographer 

 bore straight down on the camera, which 

 continued to do its work faithfully, taking 

 dozens of pictures a second, recording even 

 the strained, anxious expression on the face 

 of the driver. The pole of the hose wagon 

 struck the camera box squarely and knocked 

 it into fragments, and the wheels passed 

 quickly over the pieces, the photographer 

 meanwhile escaping somehow. By lucky 

 chance the box holding the coiled exposed 

 film came through the wreck unscathed. 



"When the series was shown on the 

 screen in a theatre the audience saw the 

 engine and hook and ladder in turn come 

 nearer and nearer and then rush by; then 

 the line of running men with the old en- 

 gine ; and then — and their flesh crept when 

 they saw it — a team of plunging horses 

 coming straight toward them at frightful 

 speed. The driver's face could be seen be- 

 tween the horses' heads distorted with ef- 



fort and fear. Straight on the horses came, 

 their nostrils distended, their great muscles 

 straining, their fore hoofs striking out al- 

 most, it seemed, in the faces of the people 

 in the front row of seats. People shrank 

 back, some women shrieked, and when the 

 plunging horses seemed almost on them, at 

 the very climax of excitement the picture 

 was blotted out. The camera taking the 

 pictures had continued to work to the very 

 instant it was struck and hurled to destruc- 

 tion." 



A NEIGHBORLY JANGLE. 



It was a warm, lazy day, and the park 

 was lovely. I had fed the ducks in the 

 lower pond until I was tired, listened to 

 the "Whoo-ee-chew, whoo-ee-chew, whoo- 

 ee-chew" of the Maryland yellowthroat, and 

 identified the bird for the first time. Then, 

 feeling I had done a good morning's work,' 

 I lay down on the grass to rest. 



Just below me was a rustic bridge. Over 

 it leaned an old oak tree in which, high 

 enough to be in line of vision as I lay, was 

 a knot hole. I knew what was in the knot 

 hole, for this was not the first time I had 

 seen it, but I did not feel like climbing any 

 tree that morning. Besides, the park guar- 

 dians, newly authorized to arrest any one 

 caught disturbing birds, were not far away, 

 so I let my eyes rest on the place with no 

 thought of anything particularly interesting 

 happening, nor caring whether it did or not. 



So lazy did I feel that I was slow to no- 

 tice that something was happening right be- 

 fore my eyes. There would be a flash of 

 red, white and black from one limb to an- 

 other, and a violent shaking of a small 

 branch growing out of a larger limb, which 

 joined the trunk just below the knot hole. 

 Then there would be quiet for a short time, 

 followed by a slight disturbance of the 

 leaves, another dash of red, white and black, 

 and another violent shaking of the limb. By 

 sitting up I saw the cause of all the trouble. 



In the knot hole were young redhead 

 woodpeckers. That it was a knot hole, on 

 the outside at least, I maintain, in spite of 

 John Burroughs and all the other authori- 

 ties who say the redhead never nests in 

 natural cavities. I had plainly heard the 

 young birds calling for food several days 

 before, and had seen the old birds go in and 

 out. 



A young gray squirrel, nearly full grown, 

 had somehow got out on that branch 

 without the old bird's knowledge, or maybe 

 he had ben chased there. At any rate, he 

 was in^ a peck of trouble for, without a 

 longer jump than he seemed to care to take, 

 the only way out was back past the hole in 

 the tree, and that way the bird seemed 

 bound he should not take. I don't know 



