in a hollow tree and had laid eighteen beautiful speckled eggs, we were indeed a happy lot of youngsters.
Each day we ran up the mountain side to the old hollow tree and took a peep at Mrs. Turkey sitting contentedly on her nest and each night at bed time we speculated on the colour, size and texture of the forthcoming baby turkeys.
At the end of the second week, my father soberly apprised us of the fact that some wild animal had been to the nest in the old hollow tree and had devoured Mrs. Turkey and eaten all the eggs. We were so horrified we did not dare go near the empty nest, and for several days, we mourned in secret for our beloved bird. Father "guessed" it was a coyote, but there was no way of telling, for the ground was too rocky to be impressed by tracks.
Several days later, one of Dainty's (my pet hen) chickens got lost. I could hear the faint "peep peep" away yonder in the brush, so I took up the trail and followed the sound. It brought me to some tangled brush and a fallen log. I peeped into the old log and there lay two spotted kittens,
