Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

would wake up thinking I was burning up as I was almost. Before going asleep again I'd roll away from the fire and wake up freezing to find that the fire had died down. But as it was I slept much better then any of the rest.

     About three o'clock the first light began to show. The approach of day was wonderful. A light fog had come down in the night and rendered all things ghostly. Soon a single wailing bird song was heard. It was an odd sound - a single longdrawn out wailing note. Presently another answered it and it wasn’t long until the air was full of their cries. Other birds began to awake and mingle their cries with those of the first. The chorus was at its height when the sun's rays split the fog and sent its beams thru the woods. A cow lowed in the distance.

     The “fishers three” got up and started to fish. I however stuck close to the fire. My but it was cold! About five o'clock the fellows came in complaining of the cold. The two Jims