Beaver. I found that I was almost directly east of Pinehollow and about a half mile south of Covered Bridge.
     As I was crossing this field, a birds note came from across the fields to the east with which I was unfamiliar.  It might be represented on a scale as  - mi – re – both notes a prolonged wailing whistle.
     The feeling of desolateness and loneliness that it gave me was almost unbelievable and unbearable.  Only once before in my life have I heard it and then it gave me the same feeling.  The low swamp land in which I was walking seemed wider and bleaker – bushes lost their color, the grey sky became gloomier and more threatening at the repetition of the call.  The homely chant of the chicka-dee brought me back again.  He was in a dense weed growth which was prettily colored.  Light brown wild aster stalks and stick tight were interspersed with dark brown heads of blue vervain, and at one side, straight and stiff stalks of great ragweed, whitened with age, leaned towards the creek.
     When I came closer, I heard a flock of some kind of sparrows among the weeds talking away at