Wen ete ARG DSU BORN’ Br U Te Ge holeteN ? 
The summer tanagers were numerous. There was a pair nesting in the 
sugar maple outside my screened-in porch, which made a perfect blind 
for birdwatching in comfort, or for just sitting and looking at the lovely 
land. At night, the whip-poor-wills and the mocking birds gave me a 
serenade. Because of a scarcity of wild flowers blooming, it was thrilling 
to come upon a stand of the colorful birdsfoot violet, the variety with the 
two upper petals dark velvety violet. 
After several days, I went on to visit Paris Landing State Park, 
Buchanan, Tennessee. The drive through the scenic, rolling countryside 
brought summer in a rush — roses blooming, lightnin’ bugs and monarch 
butterflies. The Inn at the park is a modern building, five years old. It is 
situated on an open rise, overlooking the Tennessee River and Kentucky 
Lake, created by TVA. The lower grounds are wooded, with a trail leading 
around the bays and inlets. All the Inn rooms face the water, and each 
bedroom has a private balcony. Here I could view a meadow where the 
birds were constantly feeding or passing through. 
At Paris Landing I tallied the greatest number of species and total 
birds seen. Bird songs all day and night. It was fascinating to observe the 
antics of the mocking birds as they fed in the meadow. Their habit was to 
spread their wings as they moved about, opening and closing them re- 
peatedly. When two would meet, a ritual took place. They would square 
off and assume battle-like positions — then a sparring dance would begin 
— two paces to the left, then to the right (grab your partner). Menacing 
jabs would be made until the maneuvers would break up by one moving 
off with the other in hot pursuit, but never a real, feather-flying fight. 
The mockers would imitate the killdeer, also feeding in the meadow, and 
it was startling to hear them “whip-poor-will.” The study of bird behavior 
patterns should make an absorbing, full-time hobby. The orchard orioles 
were numerous, also bobwhites and Carolina chickadees. After a week of 
enjoyable southern hospitality at this charming inn, I started north with 
Giant City State Park, Makanda, Illinois, in mind. 
The park Lodge is reached after a long, winding drive through a wide, 
deep valley enclosed by richly wooded hills. The twelve newly furnished 
cabins are spaced in an oval away from the Lodge, providing restful 
privacy — all in rustic setting. The trails are endless, winding through 
the forests and interesting, unusual sandstone rock formations. These are 
covered with ferns, mosses, lichens, stonecrop, and with lizards and skinks 
darting into the crevices. The Bewick’s wren (one family nested outside 
my cabin) and the yellow-breasted chat dominated the air waves. 
The bird list climbed rapidly — the blue grosbeak, the chuckwill’s-widow 
and the little blue heron. Trees uncommon to me were the black jack oak, 
post oak, pecan hickory and cypress. The tulip trees in bloom surpassed 
those at Paris Landing. The silverbell, pawpaw, persimmon, and sassafras 
were long past blooming but the multiflora rose, wild honeysuckle, trumpet 
creeper and many others blooming made up for it. I remained in this 
happy situation for almost two weeks. 
On an early evening hike I came upon a brown thrasher attacking a 
black snake on the ground. The snake was loosely coiled with head raised, 
striking back. The thrasher moved quickly around and around, jabbing 
