Yeah, he's landing on the lawn in an autogyro.

There, in a very secluded and shaded spot, under a spreading white pine, there was yet a clean, firm sward to sit on.

Now only a dent in the earth marks the site of these dwellings, with buried cellar stones, and strawberries, raspberries, thimble berries, hazel bushes, and sumachs growing in the sunny sward there some pitch pine or gnarled oak occupies what was the chimney nook, and a sweet scented black birch, perhaps, waves where the door stone was.