The Writings of John Burroughs — Volume 05: PepactonBurroughs, John
History
The Writings of John Burroughs — Volume 05: Pepacton
Burroughs, John
Natural history -- Outdoor books
The club-man, by common consent, was the first in the box that
morning; but only a few ducks were moving, and he had lain there
an hour before we marked a solitary bird approaching, and, after
circling over the decoys, alighting a little beyond them. The
sportsman sprang up as from the bed of the river, and the duck
sprang up at the same time, and got away under fire. After a while
my other companion went out; but the ducks passed by on the other
side, and he had no shots. In the afternoon, remembering the
robins, and that robins are game when one's larder is low, I set
out alone for the pine bottoms, a mile or more distant. When one
is loaded for robins, he may expect to see turkeys, and VICE VERSA.
As I was walking carelessly on the borders of an old brambly field
that stretched a long distance beside the pine woods, I heard a
noise in front of me, and, on looking in that direction, saw a
veritable turkey, with a spread tail, leaping along at a rapid
rate. She was so completely the image of the barnyard fowl that I
was slow to realize that here was the most notable game of that
part of Virginia, for the sight of which sportsmen's eyes do water.
As she was fairly on the wing, I sent my robin-shot after her; but
they made no impression, and I stood and watched with great
interest her long, level flight. As she neared the end of the
clearing, she set her wings and sailed straight into the corner of
the woods. I found no robins, but went back satisfied with having
seen the turkey, and having had an experience that I knew would
stir up the envy and the disgust of my companions. They listened
with ill-concealed impatience, stamped the ground a few times,
uttered a vehement protest against the caprice of fortune that
always puts the game in the wrong place or the gun in the wrong
hands, and rushed off in quest of that turkey. She was not where
they looked, of course; and, on their return about sundown, when
they had ceased to think about their game, she flew out of the top
of a pine-tree not thirty rods from camp, and in full view of them,
but too far off for a shot.
In my wanderings that afternoon, I came upon two negro shanties in
a small triangular clearing in the woods; no road but only a
footpath led to them. Three or four children, the eldest a girl of
twelve, were about the door of one of them. I approached and asked
for a drink of water. The girl got a glass and showed me to the
spring near by.
"We's grandmover's daughter's chilern," she said, in reply to
my inquiry. Their mother worked in Washington for "eighteen cents
a month," and their grandmother took care of them.
Then I thought I would pump her about the natural history of the
place.
"What was there in these woods,--what kind of animals,--any? "
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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