U. S. Naval Air Station
Daytona Beach

Oct. 2, 1943

Dear Folks,

As usual I write one letter in answer to several, a favorable “balance of trade” for me though not very considerate especially in view of the absence of a “tariff.” “Exports” should, however, increase as the South’s lazy season, summer, wanes. Northeasters and occasional temperatures below 70°F suggest the approach of a more vigorous period.

Observe, Ma, that there is a most northern point of the U.S.—a small area in Minnesota on the northern shore of the Lake of the Woods, separated by that lake from the 49th parallel just to the south. How come, I don’t know.

Yes, do send that book, curse [?] Henry, back to the book store. I’ve already picked out another—on the St. John’s river. Read it, and I’ll promise to read about the St. Lawrence.

I haven’t been reading very much lately, but did read a copy of Uncle Ham’s letters Ham gave me last time I saw him (extra copy from Tappan St.). He really was a good correspondent, and I found them intensely interesting.

Last Sunday my bike trip finally came off. Actually it began Sat. with some 22 miles covered, but this was a side trip which brought me back to the starting point, Cocoa. It netted a herd (?) of manatees or sea cows in the Indian River, which were not seen there the next day. Ugly, ungraceful creatures, they were still rather exciting to see at fairly close range (few hundred yards) even if they were submerged most of the time. They showed their noses fairly often, and less often their backs and tails.

The next day I went out to the beach, against a tough northeaster, but then south, first along the beach, then just behind it on the road through the scrub. At Eau Gallie the route went west almost to Lake Washington then south to the Melbourne Kissimmee road, west for look at the upper reaches of the St. John’s, then finally east, again against a strong wind, to Melbourne, altogether almost 50 miles. There were quite a few migrating shore birds along the causeway leading to Cocoa beach, but disappointingly few birds elsewhere, especially in the fresh water marshes in the vicinity of the St. John’s, where, however, there are plenty of birds besides the few egrets, herons, gallinules and wood ducks I did see. Better luck next time (hoping for a boating trip there sometime).

Well, we have our squadron party tonight, at about the nicest place in town, the Bath and Tennis Club, but, alas, I have no girl, not even a Wac (apologies to A.H.R.)—too short notice.



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