May 10th, 1904
The great big trees of California live up to their promise and name. An ancient open air cathedral, all quiet here in this forest of mostly pines and firs.
I have discovered, though not first hand, that bad luck knocks on the door of those who cut down big trees, or shoot in the direction of an owl.
The space allocated for a message seems to grow smaller and smaller with each postcard. Hope to sight the once thought extinct Ivory Billed Woodpecker. If I sit very still I think I will be in with a sporting chance.
Fir cones and Racoon tracks,