Flocks of robins flew up from the sycamore branches. A male and female American merganser were flushed from the riverbank and swooped over the valley. Purple finches bustled in the branches. The call of the titmouse was clear from the field. The spice bushes were in bud, and along the banks of the Potomac the willows were greening. Red maple was already painting the woods. From the bog water in the old unused canal came the song of peeper frogs.

This bit of pastoral reporting marked a considerable change of pace for a TIME correspondent whose stories usually originate from places such as Washington's Federal Reserve Building, the Reconstruction Finance Corporation or the President's Council of Economic Advisers. The author of the paragraph is George Bookman, business and economics reporter in TIME'S Washington office, who recently covered one of the capital's most pleasant news assignments: Supreme Court Justice William 0. Douglas' 178-mile hike along the old Chesapeake & Ohio Canal.

The story began with a good-natured disagreement between the Washington Post, which thought a parkway along the canal was a good idea, and Justice Douglas, who thought otherwise and suggested that a hike along the route might prove his point (TIME, March 29). Reporter Bookman was one of 37 white-collar workers, nature lovers and reporters who joined Justice Douglas on his venture. There were no invitations --anyone was welcome to tag along. Bookman got his walking orders on a Thursday morning. When the teletypewriter began rattling out the week's news queries from New York, one query asked for a reporter to go along on the hike. Said Bookman, who had just finished a 60-page file on an economic story: "For some antic reason my pulse quickened." He asked for the assignment. Bureau Chief Jim Shepley agreed, and off rushed Bookman to buy the proper equipment (including long underwear, a sleeping bag, air mattress and first-aid kit).

The plan was for the hikers to take a train to the canal terminus in Cumberland, Md. and walk from there to Washington, D.C. Two days and 43 miles after they left Cumberland, Bookman and fellow walkers arrived at the Woodmont Rod & Gun Club, where they were to spend the night and where a TIME courier was waiting to take Bookman's copy to the nearest telegraph office. This done, Bookman relaxed and followed a home-remedy suggestion to ease aching muscles: he drank a tumbler of heavy saltwater solution. The next night, by the time he had bedded down under a pine tree, the muscles felt fine. After one more day, Bookman reluctantly left the hiking party in time to reach his office for Wednesday morning story conference.

Back in Washington (without a single blister). Bookman decided that this particular assignment had been one of the most pleasant interludes in his reporting career. Said he: "Sitting around a campfire spooning beef stew from a bubbling cauldron and singing songs in the firelight was one of the best soul-restorers an economics reporter could possibly find."

Reporter Bookman's career in economics began with his major in Haverford College (Phi Beta Kappa), continued in Paris at the Sorbonne. He began reporting in 1936, worked on the Washington Post before the war (which he spent in psychological warfare work in Europe, the Near East and central Africa), later worked for World Report as a Washington writer and a reporter in Europe and the Near East.

After he joined TIME in February 1948, Bookman continued in his old field, specializing in economics. The Washington economic beat is a broad one. Bookman follows closely such ma jor issues as tax policies, foreign trade, farm policies. He also watches lesser spots in the maze of Washington agencies for other business stories.

In the view of TIME'S Washington office staff, says Bookman, he is not considered the "outdoor type." How ever, he adds, "despite my liverish look, I am a devoted horseback rider." Furthermore, says Bookman, "any time Bureau Chief Shepley wants to hand me down the walking cane, I'll be ready for another hike." Cordially yours,

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