This new wife of mine must have been very lonely at times, though she never said so. Once she suggested that we have a radio. This made me vaguely uncomfortable. We all had an idea in those days that radio caused electrical disturbances that had a bad effect on the weather, so that on account of some gigolo with corrugated hair singing 'Ting-a-Ling' or 'You've Got Me Crying Again' in Montreal or Los Angeles, a bunch of good men had bad snow-shoeing all winter.
Grey Owl, Pilgrims of the Wild, Peter Davies, London, 1935, p. 1.
TIME: late 1920's, winter
PLACE: Bush country, Quebec
CIRCUMSTANCE: Grey Owl's opinion of radio
Outside a window from which a sash has been removed stands a man, alert, silent, watchful.
The cabin beside which he keeps post faces out onto a lake, its frontage at the waters edge. The slopes of the of the surrounding hills are covered with a heavy forest, the tall grey poplars and giant spruce standing close in a dark and serried palisade about the damp.
The water is calm and unruffled; the lake appears to sleep. There is no sound and no movement save the desultory journeyings of a squirrel, engaged in salvaging cones he has been dropping from the spruce tops.
Grey Owl, Pilgrims of the Wild, Peter Davies, London, 1935, p. 3.
PLACE. Prince Albert National Park, Saskatchewan
CIRCUMSTANCE: description of Grey Owl's home ... the scene of a movie being made of his beaver