He kept hounds and until his burden of cares became too great was an eager devotee of hunting.

His shooting was of a type more heroic than that of an English squire spending a day on a moor with guests and gamekeepers and returning to comfort in the evening.
Washington went off on expeditions into the forest lasting many days and shared the life in the woods of rough men, sleeping often in the open air.

"Happy," he wrote, "is he who gets the berth nearest the fire." He could spend a happy day in admiring the trees and the richness of the land on a neighbor's estate.

Always his thoughts were turning to the soil.

There was poetry in him.