In Victoria’s Highland district, where roads were bad and there was little traffic, stood a tiny log cabin used by hunters in the game season. Birds loved this district, the sunny solitudes of its few scattered farms. In autumn gunmen shot over the district. I rented the cabin for…
Author: Emily Carr
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I was visiting in Cariboo. A flock of wild geese in migration descended to feed in a grain field. Driving with two gun-lovers, I happened to pass that way, and we came upon the flock feeding. The roadway ran right alongside the field in which the wild geese were…
Poised each on his own still pine-tree top, majestically silent in the peaceful overhang of Skeena’s turbulent waters, sat Skeena’s royal eagles. Looking up, looking down the river’s noble sweep, my eye counted thirty of the kingly birds, each independently throned on his pine tree, each wearing a snowy…
