Before the fawn is a year old, if frightened and startled from its bed,
it runs very differently from the old deer. Its jump is long and high.
It appears as though it were going to jump up among the small tree tops.
The next jump is short and sometimes sidewise, then another long jump
and so on. It acts as though it did not know its own springs, or were
cutting up its antics, and yet it always manages to keep up with the
rest of the deer.

[Illustration]

Father had killed some deer. He shot one of the largest red bucks I had
seen killed. After this we wanted meat. Father said we'll go hunting and
see if we can get a deer. He said I might take his rifle and he would
take my gun. (For some reason or other he had promoted me, may be he
thought I was luckier than he.) We started out into the woods south of
our house, I went ahead. There was snow on the ground, it was cold and
the wind blew very hard. We crossed the windfall. This was a strip of
land about eighty rods wide. It must have been a revolving whirlwind that
past there, for it had taken down pretty much all the timber and laid it
every way. Nothing was left standing except some large trees that had
little tops, these were scattered here and there through the strip. It
struck the southeast corner of what was afterward our place. Here we had
about three acres of saplings, brush and old logs that were windfalls.

I think this streak of wind must have passed about ten years before we
came to the country. It came from the openings in the town of Taylor,
went a northeast course until it struck the Rouge (after that I have no
knowledge of it.) In this windfall had grown up a second growth of
timber, saplings and brush, so thick that it was hard work to get through