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Taos N.M. July. 27th 1919

Dear Alfred;

I was standing near the adobe houses in broad sunlight when a hawk swooped down in front of me and cought a young black chicken.

There were some Mexicans who owned the chickens only a few feet away, but the hawk was not afraid, and carried the half grown chicken in his claws three miles to the mountains.

We had no guns.
Tomorrow (July 28th) is my birthday.

It makes me a little homesick to have a birthday all alone.  I hope you are