The Writings of John Burroughs | Page 4

they had seen a spectre. I surprised the fish on their
spawning-beds and feeding-grounds; they scattered, as my shadow
glided down upon them, like chickens when a hawk appears. I surprised
an ancient fisherman seated on a spit of gravelly beach, with his back
upstream, and leisurely angling in a deep, still eddy, and mumbling to
himself. As I slid into the circle of his vision his grip on the pole
relaxed, his jaw dropped, and he was too bewildered to reply to my
salutation for some moments. As I turned a bend in the river I looked
back, and saw him hastening away with great precipitation. I presume
he had angled there for forty years without having his privacy thus
intruded upon. I surprised hawks and herons and kingfishers. I came
suddenly upon muskrats, and raced with them down the rifts, they
having no time to take to their holes. At one point, as I rounded an
elbow in the stream, a black eagle sprang from the top of a dead tree,
and flapped hurriedly away. A kingbird gave chase, and disappeared
for some moments in the gulf between the great wings of the eagle, and
I imagined him seated upon his back delivering his puny blows upon
the royal bird. I interrupted two or three minks fishing and hunting
alongshore. They would dart under the bank when they saw me, then
presently thrust out their sharp, weasel-like noses, to see if the danger
was imminent. At one point, in a little cove behind the willows, I
surprised some schoolgirls, with skirts amazingly abbreviated, wading
and playing in the water. And as much surprised as any, I am sure, was
that hard-worked-looking housewife, when I came up from under the
bank in front of her house, and with pail in hand appeared at her door
and asked for milk, taking the precaution to intimate that I had no

objection to the yellow scum that is supposed to rise on a fresh article
of that kind.
"What kind of milk do you want?"
"The best you have. Give me two quarts of it," I replied.
"What do you want to do with it?" with an anxious tone, as if I might
want to blow up something or burn her barns with it.
"Oh, drink it," I answered, as if I frequently put milk to that use.
"Well, I suppose I can get you some;" and she presently reappeared
with swimming pail, with those little yellow flakes floating about upon
it that one likes to see.
I passed several low dams the second day, but had no trouble. I
dismounted and stood upon the apron, and the boat, with plenty of line,
came over as lightly as a chip, and swung around in the eddy below
like a steed that knows its master. In the afternoon, while slowly
drifting down a long eddy, the moist southwest wind brought me the
welcome odor of strawberries, and running ashore by a meadow, a
short distance below, I was soon parting the daisies and filling my cup
with the dead-ripe fruit. Berries, be they red, blue, or black, seem like a
special providence to the camper-out; they are luxuries he has not
counted on, and I prized these accordingly. Later in the day it
threatened rain, and I drew up to shore under the shelter of some thick
overhanging hemlocks, and proceeded to eat my berries and milk, glad
of an excuse not to delay my lunch longer. While tarrying here I heard
young voices upstream, and looking in that direction saw two boys
coming down the rapids on rude floats. They were racing along at a
lively pace, each with a pole in his hand, dexterously avoiding the
rocks and the breakers, and schooling themselves thus early in the
duties and perils of the raftsmen. As they saw me one observed to the
other, --
"There is the man we saw go by when we were building our floats. If
we had known he was coming so far, maybe we could have got him to
give us a ride."
They drew near, guided their crafts to shore beside me, and tied up,
their poles answering for hawsers. They proved to be Johnny and
Denny Dwire, aged ten and twelve. They were friendly boys, and
though not a bit bashful were not a bit impertinent. And Johnny, who
did the most of the talking, had such a sweet, musical voice; it was like

a bird's. It seems Denny had run away, a day or two before, to his
uncle's, five miles above, and Johnny had been after him, and was
bringing his prisoner home on a float; and it was hard to tell which was
enjoying the fun most, the captor or the captured.
"Why did