ree BGO PN eB Ushi LE) TN 33 
he counted 1,088 calls of the bird, with barely a pause ... only to 
catch its breath. 
“When I want the wild of a little different flavor,’ Burroughs 
wrote, “I go a mile through the woods to Black Creek, and put my 
canoe into a long, smooth silent stretch of water that winds through a 
heavily timbered marsh to Black Pond ... where nature wreaths 
herself with pond lilies in summer and bedecks herself with scarlet 
maples in autumn.” 
“The rarest and wildest animal that my neighborhood boasts is 
the otter ... I like to think of so wild and shy a creature holding its 
own within sound of the locomotive’s whistle ... The fox passes 
my door in winter, probably in summer, too, as do the possum and 
the ‘coon. The latter tears down my sweet corn in the garden, and the 
rabbit eats of my raspberry bushes and nibbles my first strawberries, 
while the woodchucks eat my celery and beans and peas. Chipmunks 
carry off the corn I put out for the chickens.”’ 
“Sometimes as I look out of my window early in the morning, 
I see the eagle upon his perch—a pine killed years ago by a thunderbolt. 
When the smoke begins to rise from my chimney, or he sees me going 
to the spring for water ... it is time for him to be off ... Often in 
the course of the day, I see him circling above my domain ... and my 
thoughts soar a little higher. Twenty years ago I used to see a dozen 
or more eagles along the river in spring, when the ice was breaking up, 
where now I see only one or two.” 
In the “Summit of the Years,’ Burroughs concludes: ‘‘I am in 
love with this world. It has been home ... I have tilled its soil, I have 
gathered its harvest ... I have waited upon its seasons, and always 
have I reaped what I have sown ... I have climbed its mountains, 
roamed its forests, sailed its waters ... and kept apart from the strife 
and fever of the world, and the maelstrom of business and _ political 
life I have sought the paths, by still waters and in the quiet fields, 
and life has been wholesome to me.’ From this man came 25 books of 
literary treasures, a rich heritage of Americana outdoors. 
‘Today three of the most beautiful areas surrounding Burroughs’ 
old home, Slabsides, are threatened by logging and real estate develop- 
ment. The John Burroughs Memorial Association (79th Street and 
Central Park West, New York) is now seeking funds to buy 125 acres 
to protect the John Burroughs Sanctuary and to preserve the land 
as Burroughs knew and loved it. From this very land, which we can 
all help to save, came the inspiration for Burroughs’ priceless nature 
writings, and his strengthening, sustaining philosophy of the simple 
and abundant outdoor life for us all. 
= 179 Villaskoad:-Addison, Illinois 
