Such days make us regret that we are growing old. They rejuvenate us
--make us boys again.



Boyhood Days in Early California

My boyhood days, from the time I was five until I was fifteen years of
age, were spent on a ranch in Yuba County, California. We were located
on the east side of Feather River, about five miles above Marysville.
The ranch consisted of several hundred acres of high land, which, at its
western terminus, fell away about one hundred feet to the river bottom.
There were a couple of hundred acres of this river bottom land which was
arable. It was exceedingly rich and productive. Still west of this land
was a well-wooded pasture, separated from the cultivated lands by a good
board fence. The river bounded this pasture on the north and west.

In the pasture were swales of damp land, literally overgrown with wild
blackberry bushes. They bore prolific crops of long, black, juicy
berries, far superior to the tame berries, and they were almost entirely
free from seeds. Many a time have I temporarily bankrupted my stomach on
hot blackberry roll, with good, rich sauce.

The country fairly teemed with game. Quail and rabbit were with us all
the time. Doves came by the thousands in the early summer and departed
in the fall. In winter the wild ducks and geese were more than abundant.
In the spring wild pigeons visited us in great numbers. There was one
old oak tree which was a favorite resting-place with them. Sheltered by
some live oak bushes, I was always enabled to sneak up and kill many of
them out of this tree.