esident and Major
Pitcher, he rode rapidly away.

THE SECOND CAMP

Our second camp, which we reached in mid-afternoon, was in the edge of
the woods on the banks of a fine, large trout stream, where ice and
snow still lingered in patches. I tried for trout in the head of a
large, partly open pool, but did not get a rise; too much ice in the
stream, I concluded. Very soon my attention was attracted by a strange
note, or call, in the spruce woods. The President had also noticed it,
and, with me, wondered what made it. Was it bird or beast? Billy Hofer
said he thought it was an owl, but it in no way suggested an owl, and
the sun was shining brightly. It was a sound such as a boy might make
by blowing in the neck of an empty bottle. Presently we heard it
beyond us on the other side of the creek, which was pretty good proof
that the creature had wings.

"Let's go run that bird down," said the President to me.

So off we started across a small, open, snow-streaked plain, toward
the woods beyond it. We soon decided that the bird was on the top of
one of a group of tall spruces. After much skipping about over logs
and rocks, and much craning of our necks, we made him out on the peak
of a spruce. I imitated his call, when he turned his head down toward
us, but we could not make out what he was.

"Why did we not think to bring the glasses?" said the President.

"I will run and get them," I replied.

TREEING AN OWL

"No," said he, "you stay here and keep that bird treed, and I will
fetch them."

So off he went like a boy, and was very soon back with the glasses. We
quickly made out that it was indeed an owl,--the pigmy owl, as it
turned out,--not much larger than a bluebird. I think the President
was as pleased as if we had bagged some big game. He had never seen
the bird before.

Throughout the trip I found his interest in bird life very keen, and
his eye and ear remarkably quick. He usually saw the bird or heard its
note as quickly as I did,--and I had nothing else to think about, and
had been teaching my eye and ear the trick of it for over fifty years.
Of course, his training as a big-game hunter stood him in good stead,
but back of that were his naturalist's instincts, and his genuine love
of all forms of wild life.

ROOSEVELT THE NATURALIST

I have been told that his ambition up to the time he went to Harvard
had been to be a naturalist, but that there they seem to have
convinced him that all the out-of