the mangled form of the audacious
marauder fell literally between my feet.

Of wild animals, such as bears, panthers, wolves, wildcats, etc., we
neither saw nor heard any in the Adirondacks. "A howling wilderness,"
Thoreau says, "seldom ever howls. The howling is chiefly done by the
imagination of the traveler." Hunter said he often saw bear-tracks in
the snow, but had never yet met Bruin. Deer are more or less abundant
everywhere, and one old sportsman declares there is yet a single moose
in these mountains. On our return, a pioneer settler, at whose house
we stayed overnight, told us a long adventure he had had with a
panther. He related how it screamed, how it followed him in the brush,
how he took to his boat, how its eyes gleamed from the shore, and how
he fired his rifle at them with fatal effect. His wife in the mean
time took something from a drawer, and, as her husband finished his
recital, she produced a toe-nail of the identical animal with marked
dramatic effect.

But better than fish or game or grand scenery, or any adventure by
night or day, is the wordless intercourse with rude Nature one has on
these expeditions. It is something to press the pulse of our old
mother by mountain lakes and streams, and know what health and vigor
are in her veins, and how regardless of observation she deports
herself.

1866.

IV

BIRDS'-NESTS

How alert and vigilant the birds are, even when absorbed in building
their nests! In an open space in the woods I see a pair of cedar-birds
collecting moss from the top of a dead tree. Following the direction
in which they fly, I soon discover the nest placed in the fork of a
small soft maple, which stands amid a thick growth of wild
cherry-trees and young beeches. Carefully concealing myself beneath
it, without any fear that the workmen will hit me with a chip or let
fall a tool, I await the return of the busy pair. Presently I hear the
well-known note, and the female sweeps down and settles unsuspectingly
into the half-finished structure. Hardly have her wings rested before
her eye has penetrated my screen, and with a hurried movement of alarm
she darts away. In a moment the male, with a tuft of wool in his beak
(for there is a sheep pasture near), joins her, and the two
reconnoitre the premises from the surrounding bushes. With their beaks
still loaded, they move around with a frightened look, and refuse to
approach the nest till I have moved off and lain down behind