Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

covered with rocks of all sizes.  It was fun to sit here and listen to the rising wind rustling thru the leafy beeches in a steady rush of air and murmuring.  From a tree far down in the valley came the fleeting call of a “Flicher – another new familiar arrival.  Then suddenly, I was not sure but I thought I heard the cry of a mourning-dove.  I heard it but once and thought I was mistaken.

     In a little while I went on over the hills, that were ever growing higher up.  The sun had now become a mere white speck in the grey sky and the wind was filled with the chill of threatened rain.  Going down into a deep valley I came to what I last year named the “Twin Hollows.”  Two deep hollows from the east came together at this point and formed one.  I have been in these valleys only once or twice and am going to explore them some day, but to-day, I merely crossed the big hollow, ascended the opposite hill and went across comparative by level meadows, over a yellow road that wound down around to another coal-mine, to still another hollow.  As I was nearing this place, I heard a hard rapping sound and then saw a Flicher fly to the top of a tall hickory of the edge of the hill.  As I came up he flew away.