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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ill bet thelemonade, that upon the rock ahead there is a gulls nest, andI never saw one in all my life. Sure enough, before stepping out they could see a low rudenest, made of moss, sticks and mud, and in it were three verylarge eggs, nearly as large as hens eggs, which surprisedthem much, looking at the size of the bird. The eggs werea dark drab color, spotted with black. The birds did notmake much ado after all at their landing, but both followedthem closelv for a piece after heaving the rock, when thefemale flew back to the nest, the male following the boat,often hovering over them with a low cry and riving on aheadaeain, as if still anxious they should be led far from histreasures. Onlv a gulls nest. Thats all, yet they would havepaddled a mile out of their way rather than have missed see-ing this one. An oval, almost bare rock, lying out alone byitself in the lake, some eight or ten feet in diameter, nearlyround, a few bunches of moss growing upon the north side, n> r.i W3 SIn
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ii4 The Aroostook Woods. with a small bunch of hard-hack and three small dwarfedspruces the only protection from the northerly winds. Uponthe highest part of the rock, in the center, the very rude nestand the three odd colored eggs is kept warm while the motherbird is away by the sun warming up the granite, and atnight and morning, cold days and rainy ones, by the motherbird. Respected by the loons as they wish no such place forthemsehes when they can find the hidden chances, as close asthis to the water. As they homeward to the landing drift slowlv along, Joeagain is switching in a few clean silyery trout. Those littlechoice ones, he says, and Cronie is pleased to hear himexpatiate again, and often. May 30th. The last morning of the trip ; the alarm of theclock goes off with a whiz and a whir—r— tw What do you say, Joe, its three oclock. All right, Cronie, if we go oyer upon the other side andget to sleep again I fear we will be rather late at white waterrips. The coffee is soon

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