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had also felt the call of the open road, and who knew the charm of this 
locality. It is indeed one of the rare beauty-spots of our great state, 
than which perhaps no other state in the Union affords a wider variety 
of beautiful and varied flora, fauna, and bird life. Here the beautiful 
Rock River makes a majestic horseshoe bend, and swings and winds 
through wooded hills and bluffs, with here and there rocky cliffs rising 
sheer from the water’s edge, whose tops are accessible to those who en- 
joy climbing. The effort of the climb is amply rewarded by the enchant- 
ing view which is spread out on every hand from their summits. We 
crossed the river, which was at fairly full tide, in our friend’s canoe; 
and after skirting the higher western shore for some distance, in com- 
pany with Mr. and Mrs. F. H. Pattee of Evanston, we climbed to the 
top of the cliff which is shown in the accompanying illustration. In 
the crevices of the rock may be discerned numerous holes which were 
occupied for nesting places by a small colony of rough-winged swallows. 
On the summit of this rock we discovered in a large oak tree the nests 
of the white-breasted nuthatch and the great crested fly-catcher, the 
openings to the nests being not more than ten feet apart. We watched 
the birds for a time entering and leaving their nests, evidently feeding 
their young, and little disturbed by our near presence. Not a stone’s 
throw away in another oak we discovered the summer home of a pair 
of hairy woodpeckers. From the summit of the rock we could see, 
through our field glasses, spotted and least sandpipers along a sandy 
strip on the farther shore. In the early afternoon a large number of 
nighthawks sallied forth and added to the charm of the scene as they 
darted about high in air securing their evening meal. Cedar waxwings 
were plentiful; and a considerable number of red-winged blackbirds 
nested in the rushes and low thickets on an island which we passed. 
As the afternoon slipped away, we found it necessary to start for 
home and had the rare good fortune to hear the loud, clear and thrush- 
like notes of the Western meadowlark as we drove by a high field on 
our short-cut route to the Lincoln Highway. 
Needless to say, our little outing added some fine memory-pictures to 
our store; and the fact that we did not escape the edge of a thunder- 
storm on our homeward drive which caught us just before we reached 
St. Charles, did not dampen our ardor, nor prevent us from resolving to 
revisit the beautiful Rock River region lying between Oregon and Dixon 
at the earliest opportunity. We identified sixty-one varieties of birds 
on our trip—a list which could doubtless have been surpassed easily had 
we devoted an hour or so longer to rambles afoot with our field glasses. 
