File:Sketches of camp life in the wilds of the Aroostook woods, Aroostook County, Maine; fishing, canoeing, camping, shooting and trapping, being true stories of actual life in camp (1892) (14769833651).jpg

Identifier: sketchesofcampli00west (find matches)
Title: Sketches of camp life in the wilds of the Aroostook woods, Aroostook County, Maine; fishing, canoeing, camping, shooting and trapping, being true stories of actual life in camp
Year: 1892 (1890s)
Authors: West, Charles C
Subjects: Camping Hunting
Publisher: Boston, The New England News Company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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e lake, through and over the blackshadows of the evergreens, and under the overhanging treesand bushes. And over the smooth water the dip of the paddlescarcely makes an audible sound; showing only occasionallya light bubble upon the surface. We often disturb and some-times astonish the small game that are always astir in theevening. Always listening for any stir or movement onshore, we often hear those big sounds from little feet, as amink or rabbit would jump away through the leaves whenthe canoe ran close beside them. They seem astonished tosee us creeping slowly along in the night time, and by thesounds from them, they wait a bit to have a look at us beforeskipping away. And Mr. Owl scarcely ever allows you topass without having the impudence to introduce himself withhis hoo-hoo-hoo ! too-hoo-00 ! if in the evening. But thisfellows greeting is mild compared with the old screecher —the big joker — that fairly jumps you, in the night, if not > o >O o > K>O H O H o o2:
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320 The Aroostook Woods. expecting him, with his sardonic laugh, a sound more fittingfor the panther or Indian devil, and has, in fact, often beentaken for such by those unacquainted with either, startlingthem much, when they ask with wide-opened eyes, Whatsthat ? The ducks are feeding on the stream to-night, and arechasing each other about, with low quack and gabble, untilwe are very near them, when they all fly away in the darknesswithout as loud quacks as usual, for which we thank them.An old frog that has been half asleep, watching them out ofone eye while at their play, now rejoicing at their departure,wakes up and breaks out in a loud ker chung ! ker chung!when he is quickly answered by his little grandson, that washidden beneath a lily pad across the stream, with a peet —peet, peet — peetaweet! peet — peet, peet! Coming to the small, sandy islands well up the stream,we remember that they were not here in our early days, buthave formed of late years. Perhaps at the first a

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