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.

TIME: 1930's

PLACE. Prince Albert National Park, Saskatchewan

CIRCUMSTANCE: description of Grey Owl's home ... the scene of a movie being made of his beaver