The scream of a hawk over Holden woods and swamp.

April 30.

Another, more still, cloudy, almost drizzling day, in which, as the last three, I wear a greatcoat. 



P. M. — To Lee’s Cliff. 

Privet begins to leaf. (Viburnum nudum and Lentago yesterday.) 

I observed yesterday that the barn swallows confined themselves to one place, about fifteen rods in diameter, in Willow Bay, about the sharp rock. They kept circling about and flying up the stream (the wind easterly), about six inches above the water, — it was cloudy and almost raining, — yet I could not perceive any insects there. 

Those myriads of little fuzzy gnats mentioned on the 21st and 28th must afford an abundance of food to insectivorous birds. Many new birds should have arrived about the 21st. There were plenty of myrtle-birds and yellow redpolls where the gnats were. 

The swallows were confined to this space when I passed up, and were still there when I returned, an hour and a half later. I saw them nowhere else. 

They uttered only a slight twitter from time to time and when they turned out for each other on meeting. Getting their meal seemed to be made a social affair. Pray, how long will they continue to circle thus without resting? 

The early willow by Hubbard’s Bridge has not begun to leaf. This would make it a different species from that by railroad, which has. 

Hear a short, rasping note, somewhat tweezer-bird like, I think from a yellow redpoll. Yellow dor bug. 

I hear from far the scream of a hawk circling over the Holden woods and swamp. This accounts for those two men with guns just entering it. What a dry, shrill, angry scream! I see the bird with my glass resting upon the topmost plume of a tall white pine. Its back, reflecting the light, looks white in patches; and now it circles again. 

It is a red-tailed hawk. The tips of its wings are curved upward as it sails. How it scolds at the men beneath! I see its open bill. It must have a nest there. 

Hark! there goes a gun, and down it tumbles from a rod or two above the wood. So I thought, but was mistaken. In the meanwhile, I learn that there is a nest there, and the gunners killed one this morning, which I examined. They are now getting the young. 

Above it was brown, but not at all reddish— brown except about head. Above perhaps I should thickly barred with darker, and also wings beneath. The tail of twelve reddish feathers, once black-barred near the end. The feet pale-yellow and very stout, with strong, sharp black claws. The head and neck were remarkably stout, and the beak short and curved from the base. Powerful neck and legs. The claws pricked me as I handled it. 

It measured one yard and three eighths plus from tip to tip, i.e. four feet and two inches. Some ferruginous on the neck; ends of wings nearly black. 

Columbine just out; one anther sheds. Also turritis will to-morrow apparently; many probably, if they had not been eaten. Crowfoot and saxifrage are now in prime at Lee’s; they yellow and whiten the ground.

I see a great many little piles of dirt made by the worms on Conantum pastures. 

The woodchuck has not so much what I should call a musky scent, but exactly that peculiar rank scent which I perceive in a menagerie. The musky at length becomes the regular wild-beast scent. 

Red-wing blackbirds now fly in large flocks, covering the tops of trees—willows, maples, apples, or oaks—like a black fruit, and keep up an incessant gurgling and whistling, — all for some purpose; what is it? 

White pines now show the effects of last year’s drought in our yard and on the Cliffs, the needles faded and turning red to an alarming extent. 

I now see many Juniperus repens berries of a handsome light blue above, being still green beneath, with three hoary pouting lips. 

The Garfields had found a burrow of young foxes. How old? 

I see the black feathers of a blackbird by the Miles Swamp side, and this single bright-scarlet one shows that it belonged to a red wing, which some hawk or quadruped devoured.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 30, 1855

It is a red-tailed hawk. See May 1, 1855 ("He [Garfield] climbed the tree when I was there yesterday afternoon, the tallest white pine or other tree in its neighborhood, over a swamp, and found two young, which he thought not more than a fortnight old,—with only down, at least no feathers,—and one addled egg, also three or four white-bellied or deer mouse (Mus leucopus), a perch, and a sucker, and a gray rabbit’s skin. . . . I found the remains of a partridge under the tree.”). See also March 2, 1856 ("I can hardly believe that hen-hawks may be beginning to build their nests now, yet their young were a fortnight old the last of April last year.”); March 15, 1860 ("These hawks, as usual, began to be common about the first of March, showing that they were returning from their winter quarters. . . . An easily recognized figure anywhere.”); March 23, 1859 (“. . .we saw a hen-hawk perch on the topmost plume of one of the tall pines at the head of the meadow. Soon another appeared, probably its mate, but we looked in vain for a nest there. It was a fine sight, their soaring above our heads, presenting a perfect outline and, as they came round, showing their rust-colored tails with a whitish rump, or, as they sailed away from us, that slight teetering or quivering motion of their dark-tipped wings seen edgewise, now on this side, now that, by which they balanced and directed themselves.”);  April 22, 1860 ("See now hen-hawks, a pair, soaring high as for pleasure, circling ever further and further away, as if it were midsummer. . . . I do not see it soar in this serene and leisurely manner very early in the season, methinks"); April 30, 1857 ("a pretty large hawk alighted on an oak close by us. It probably has a nest near by and was concerned for its young.”);  May 4, 1855 ("Red tail hawk young fourteen days old.").  See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau ,The hen-hawk


Red-wing blackbirds now fly in large flocks, covering the tops of trees—willows, maples, apples, or oaks—like a black fruit. See March 16, 1860 ("They cover the apple trees like a black fruit.”); May 5, 1859 (" Red-wings fly in flocks yet.");  see also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Red-wing in Early Spring

This dark, damp, cold day.

April 29, 2015

April 29.

This morning it snows, but the ground is not yet whitened. This will probably take the cold out of the air. 

Many chip-birds are feeding in the yard, and one bay-wing. The latter incessantly scratches like a hen, all the while looking about for foes. The bay on its wings is not obvious except when it opens them. The white circle about the eye is visible afar. Now it makes a business of pluming itself, doubling prettily upon itself, now touching the root of its tail, now thrusting its head under its wing, now between its wing and back above, and now between its legs and its belly; and now it drops flat on its breast and belly and spreads and shakes its wings, now stands up and repeatedly shakes its wings. It is either cleaning itself of dirt acquired in scratching and feeding, — for its feet are black with mud, — or it is oiling its feathers thus. It is rather better concealed by its color than the chip bird with its chestnut crown and light breast. The chip-bird scratches but slightly and rarely; it finds what it wants on the surface, keeps its head down more steadily, not looking about. I see the bay-wing eat some worms. 

For two or three days the Salix alba, with its catkins (not yet open) and its young leaves, or bracts (?), has made quite a show, before any other tree, —a pyramid of tender yellowish green in the russet landscape. 

The water now rapidly going down on the meadows, a bright-green grass is springing up. 

P. M. — By boat to Lupine Hill. 

It did not whiten the ground. Raw, overcast, and threatening rain. 

A few of the cones within reach on F. Monroe’s larches shed pollen; say, then, yesterday. The crimson female flowers are now handsome but small.

That lake grass — or perhaps I should call it purple grass — is now apparently in perfection on the water. Long and slender blades (about an eighth of an inch wide and six to twelve inches long, the part exposed) lie close side by side straight and parallel on the surface, with a dimple at the point where they emerge. Some are a very rich purple, with apparently a bloom, and very suggestive of placidity. It is a true bloom, at any rate,—the first blush of the spring caught on these little standards elevated to the light. By the water they are left perfectly smooth and flat and straight, as well as parallel, and thus, by their mass, make the greater impression on the eye. It has a strong marshy, somewhat fishy, almost seaweed-like scent when plucked. Seen through a glass the surface is finely grooved. 

The scrolls of the interrupted fern are already four or five inches high. 

I see a woodchuck on the side of Lupine Hill, eight or ten rods off. He runs to within three feet of his hole; then stops, with his head up. His whole body makes an angle of forty-five degrees as I look sideways at it. I see his shining black eyes and black snout and his little erect ears. 

He is of a light brown forward at this distance (hoary above, yellowish or sorrel beneath), gradually darkening backward to the end of the tail, which is dark-brown. The general aspect is grizzly, the ends of most of the hairs being white. The yellowish brown, or rather sorrel, of his throat and breast very like the sand of his burrow, over which it is slanted. No glaring distinctions to catch the eye and betray him. 

As I advance, he crawls a foot nearer his hole, as if to make sure his retreat while he satisfies his curiosity. Tired of holding up his head, he lowers it at last, yet waits my further advance. 

The snout of the little sternothaerus is the most like a little black stick seen above the water of any of the smaller tortoises. I was almost perfectly deceived by it close at hand; but it moved. 

Choke-cherry begins to leaf. Dandelions out yesterday, at least. Some young alders begin to leaf. Viola ovata will open to-morrow. 

Mountain-ash began to leaf, say yesterday. Makes a show with leaves alone before any tree. 

Paddling slowly along, I see five or six snipes within four or five rods, feeding on the meadow just laid bare, or in the shallow and grassy water. This dark, damp, cold day they do not mind me. View them with my glass. How the ends of their wings curve upward! They do not thrust their bills clear down commonly, but wade and nibble at something amid the grass, apparently on the surface of the water. Sometimes it seems to be the grass itself, sometimes on the surface of the bare meadow. They are not now thrusting their bills deep in the mud. They have dark-ash or slate-colored breasts. 

At length they take a little alarm and rise with a sort of rippling whistle or peep, a little like a robin’s peep, but faint and soft, and then alight within a dozen rods. I hear often at night a very different harsh squeak from them, and another squeak much like the nighthawk’s, and also the booming.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 29, 1855

One bay-wing . . .The white circle about the eye is visible afar. See  April 13, 1855 ("See a sparrow without marks on throat or breast, running peculiarly in the dry grass in the open field beyond, and hear its song, and then see its white feathers in tail; the bay-wing"); April 23, 1854 ("The bay-wing has a light ring at some distance around the eye.")  See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Bay-Wing Sparrow (Fringilla graminea)

 The scrolls of the interrupted fern are already four or five inches high. See  April 29, 1859 ("Interrupted fern scrolls there, four to five inches high."); April 30, 1858 ("I noticed one of the large scroll ferns, with its rusty wool, up eight inches on the 28th"); See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau: The Interrupted Fern (Osmunda claytoniana)

I see a woodchuck on the side of Lupine Hill. See April 2, 1858 (“At Hubbard’s Grove I see a woodchuck. He waddles to his hole and then puts out his gray nose within thirty feet to reconnoitre”); April 12, 1855 (“For a week past I have frequently seen the tracks of woodchucks in the sand.”);  April 17, 1855 ("See a woodchuck. His deep reddish-brown rear, somewhat grizzled about, looked like a ripe fruit mellowed by winter."); April 30, 1855 (“The woodchuck has. . . exactly that peculiar rank scent which I perceive in a menagerie.”);  May 30, 1859 ("When I entered the interior meadow of Gowing's Swamp I heard a slight snort, and found that I had suddenly come upon a woodchuck . . . Its colors were gray, reddish brown, and blackish, the gray-tipped wind hairs giving it a grizzly look above, and when it stood up its distinct rust-color beneath was seen, while the top of its head was dark-brown, becoming black at snout, as also its paws and its little rounded ears.")

The snout of the little sternothaerus is the most like a little black stick seen above the water, See September 11, 1854 ("Measured to-day the little Sternothærus odoratus which came out the ground in the garden September 9th. . .  It does not so much impress me as an infantile beginning of life as an epitome of all the past of turtledom and of the earth. I think of it as the result of all the turtles that have been.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  the Musk Turtle (Sternothaerus odoratus)

Dandelions out yesterday, at least. See April 29, 1859 ("First observe the dandelion well out in R. W. E.'s yard. "); April 29, 1857 ("At Tarbell's watering-place, see a dandelion, its conspicuous bright-yellow disk in the midst of a green space on the moist bank. It seems a sudden and decided progress in the season")  See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Dandelion in Spring and A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  the Earliest Flower

And also the booming. See April 9, 1855 ("Some twenty minutes after sundown I hear the first booming of a snipe.") and note to April 9, 1858 ("This “booming” of the snipe is our regular village serenade.”); See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau: the Snipe

April 29.  See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April 29

This morning it snows

but does whiten the ground  –

a dark damp cold day.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, This dark, damp, cold day 

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau

"A book, each page written in its own season,

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2025

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-550429

A bird of many colors.

April 28.

A second cold but fair day. Good fires are required to-day and yesterday. 

P. M. —Sail to Ball’s Hill. 

The chimney swallow, with the white-bellied and barn swallows, over the river. 

The red maples, now in bloom, are quite handsome at a distance over the flooded meadow beyond Peter’s. The abundant wholesome gray of the trunks and stems beneath surmounted by the red or scarlet crescents. 

Are not they sheldrakes which I see at a distance on an islet in the meadow? 

The wind is strong from the northwest. Land at Ball’s Hill to look for birds under the shelter of the hill in the sun. 

There are a great many myrtle-birds here, — they have been quite common for a week, — also yellow redpolls, and some song sparrows, tree sparrows, field sparrows, and one F. hyemalis. 

In a cold and windy day like this you can find more birds than in a serene one, because they are collected under the wooded hillsides in the sun. 

The myrtle-birds flit before us in great numbers, yet quite tame, uttering commonly only a chip, but some times a short trill or che che, che che, che che. Do I hear the tull-lull in the afternoon? It is a bird of many colors, — slate, yellow, black, and white, — singularly spotted. 

April 28, 2015

Those little gnats of the 21st are still in the air in the sun under this hill, but elsewhere the cold strong wind has either drowned them or chilled them to death. I see where they have taken refuge in a boat and covered its bottom with large black patches. 

I noticed on the 26th (and also to-day) that since this last rise of the river, which reached its height the 23d, a great deal of the young flag, already six inches to a foot long, though I have hardly observed it growing yet, has washed up all along the shore, and as to-day I find a piece of flag-root with it gnawed by a muskrat, I think that they have been feeding very extensively on the white and tender part of the young blades. 

They, and not ducks, for it is about the bridges also as much as anywhere. I think that they desert the clams now for this vegetable food. In one place a dead muskrat scents the shore, probably another of those drowned out in the winter. 

See the little heaps of dirt where worms had come out by river.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 28, 1855

The chimney swallow, with the white-bellied and barn swallows, over the river. See April 28, 1858 ("The barn swallows and a martin are already skimming low over that small area of smooth water within a few feet of me, never leaving that spot,"); See also April 8, 1856 ("The white bellied swallows have paid us twittering visits the last three mornings. You must rush out quickly to see them,"); April 15, 1855 ("Many martins (with white—bellied swallows) are skimming and twittering above the water,"); April 15, 1856 ("The white-bellied swallows are circling about and twittering above the apple trees and walnuts on the hillside."); April 15, 1859 ("I see and hear white-bellied swallows as they are zigzagging through the air with their loud and lively notes"); April 18, 1855 ("White-bellied swallows and martins twitter now at 9 A. M.");  April 29, 1854 ("The barn swallows are very numerous, flying low over the water in the rain.”); April 29, 1856 ("Barn swallows and chimney, with white-bellied swallows, are flying together over the river.");April 30, 1856  ("Great number of swallows—white-bellied and barn swallows and perhaps republican — flying round and round, or skimming very low over the meadow, just laid bare, only a foot above the ground.")  See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White-bellied Swallow

The red maples, now in bloom, are quite handsome at a distance. See April 29, 1856 ("How pretty a red maple in bloom (they are now in prime), seen in the sun against a pine wood . . . they are of so cheerful and lively a color.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Red Maple

There are a great many myrtle-birds here, — they have been quite common for a week. The myrtle-birds flit before us in great numbers, yet quite tame, uttering commonly only a chip, but some times a short trill or che che, che che, che che. See  April 28, 1858 (“I see the myrtle-bird in the same sunny place, south of the Island woods, as formerly.”); April 28, 1859 (“The first myrtle-bird that I have noticed”); See also  April 26, 1854 ("The woods are full of myrtle-birds this afternoon, more common and commonly heard than any, especially along the edge of woods on oaks, etc., — their note an oft-repeated fine jingle, a tea le, tea le, tea le.");  May 1, 1855 ("The myrtle-bird is one of the commonest and tamest birds now. It catches insects like a pewee, darting off from its perch and returning to it, and sings something like a-chill chill, chill chill, chill chill, a-twear, twill twill twee,"); May 4, 1855 ("Myrtle-birds numerous, and sing their tea lee, tea lee in morning")

To-day I find a piece of flag-root with it gnawed by a muskrat . . .In one place a dead muskrat scents the shore, probably another of those drowned out in the winter. See April 10, 1855 ("Another dead muskrat, equally old with the two others I have seen this spring,—as if they had died at the time of the great freshet in February. . . .I see much yellow lily root afloat, which the muskrats have dug up and nibbled."); April 25, 1855 (" I have noticed three or four upper jaws of muskrats on the meadow lately, which, added to the dead bodies floating, make more than half a dozen perhaps drowned out last winter. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Musquash

The myrtle-birds flit

before us in great numbers –

sheltered from the wind.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, A bird of many colors.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau

"A book, each page written in its own season,

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2025

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-550428

Black and white creepers utter oven-bird-like notes.

April 27.

5 A. M. — S. tristis Path around Cliffs. 

Cold and windy, but fair. 

The earliest willow by railroad begins to leaf and is out of bloom. 

April 27, 1854

Few birds are heard this cold and windy morning. Hear a partridge drum before 6 A. M., also a golden-crested wren. 

Salix tristis, probably to-day, the female more forward than the male. 

Hear a singular sort of screech, somewhat like a hawk, under the Cliff, and soon some pigeons fly out of a pine near me. 

The black and white creepers running over the trunks or main limbs of red maples and uttering their fainter oven-bird-like notes. 

The principal singer on this walk, both in wood and field away from town, is the field sparrow. I hear the sweet warble of a tree sparrow in the yard. 

Cultivated cherry is beginning to leaf. 

The balm-of Gilead catkins are well loosened and about three inches long, but I have seen only fertile ones. Say male the 25th, 26th, or 27th.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 27, 1855


Hear a partridge drum before 6 A. M.  See April 27, 1854 ("I hear the beat of a partridge and the spring hoot of an owl, now at 7 a.m.”) See also See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Partridge

Also a golden-crested wren. [probably the ruby-crowned kinglet] See May 7, 1854 ("A ruby-crested wren. . .Saw its ruby crest and heard its harsh note. (This was the same I have called golden-crowned . . . except that I saw its ruby crest.. ..Have I seen the two?)”) May 6, 1855 ("Hear at a distance a ruby(?)-crowned wren, . . . I think this the only Regulus I have ever seen.”); and note to December 25, 1859 ("I hear a sharp fine screep from some bird,. . . I can see a brilliant crown. . . . It is evidently the golden-crested wren, which I have not made out before.”)  See also A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau: the ruby-crowned or crested wren. (Thoreau did not truly identify the golden-crested wren until  Christmas  1859. See note to December 25, 1859 

The black and white creepers running over the trunks or main limbs of red maples and uttering their fainter oven-bird—like notes. See April 27, 1854 ("I hear the black and white creeper's note , — seeser seeser seeser se.. . .Hear a faint sort of oven-bird's (?) note."); see also May 3, 1852. ("That oven-birdish note which I heard here on May 1st I now find to have been uttered by the black and white warbler or creeper. He has a habit of looking under the branches.")  See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Black and White Creeper

The principal singer on this walk, both in wood and field away from town, is the field sparrow. See April 27, 1852 ("Heard the field or rush sparrow this morning (Fringilla juncorum), George Minott's "huckleberry-bird." It sits on a birch and sings at short intervals, apparently answered from a distance. It is clear and sonorous heard afar; but I found it quite impossible to tell from which side it came; sounding like phe, phe, phe, pher-pher-tw-tw-tw-t-t-t-t, — the first three slow and loud, the next two syllables quicker, and the last part quicker and quicker, becoming a clear, sonorous trill or rattle, like a spoon in a saucer.”).  See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Field Sparrow

The balm-of Gilead catkins are well loosened and about three inches long. See April 27, 1854 ("The balm-of-Gilead is in bloom, about one and a half or two inches long, and some hang down straight.") See also  May 3, 1856 ("A staminate balm of Gilead poplar by Peter’s path. Many of the catkins fallen and effete in the rain, but many anthers still red and unopen. Probably began five or six days ago.")

April 27. See  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April 27

Hear a partridge drum

 also golden-crested wren

before 6 A. M.

From red maple trunks

black and white creepers utter 

oven-bird-like notes.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Black and white creepers utter oven-bird-like notes

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau 

"A book, each page written in its own season,

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2025

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-550427

We see and hear more birds than usual this mizzling and still day.

April 26

A cloudy, still, damp, and at length drizzling day. 

P.M. — To Bayberry and Black Ash Cellar. 

Wheildon’s arbor-vitae well out, maybe for a week.

The silvery abele, probably to-day or yesterday, but I do not see pollen. 

The blossoms of the red maple (some a yellowish green) are now most generally conspicuous and handsome scarlet crescents over the swamps. 

Going over Ponkawtasset, hear a golden-crested wren, — the robin’s note, etc., —in the tops of the high wood; see myrtle-birds and half a dozen pigeons. 

The prate of the last is much like the creaking of a tree. They lift their wings at the same moment as they sit. There are said to be many about now. See their warm-colored breasts. 

I see pigeon woodpeckers billing on an oak at a distance. 

Young apple leafing, say with the common rose, also some early large ones. Bayberry not started much. Fever-bush out apparently a day or two, between Black Birch Cellar and Easterbrook’s. It shows plainly now, before the leaves have come out on bushes, twenty rods off. 

See and hear chewinks, — all their strains; the same date with last year, by accident. 

Many male and female white-throated sparrows feeding on the pasture with the song sparrow. The male’s white is buff in the female. 

A brown thrasher seen at a little distance.

April 26, 2025

We see and hear more birds than usual this mizzling and still day, and the robin sings with more vigor and promise than later in the season.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 26, 1855

This mizzling and still day . .. the robin sings with more vigor and promise. See April 26, 1854 ("Birds sing all day when it is warm, still, and overcast as now"); April 16, 1856 ("The robins sing with a will now . . . A moist, misty, rain-threatening April day. About noon it does mizzle a little. The robin sings throughout it.”); May 14, 1852 (“The robin sings this louring day. They sang most in and about that great freshet storm. The song of the robin is most suggestive in cloudy weather.”). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Robins in Spring

Wheildon’s arbor-vitae well out, maybe for a week. See April 19, 1856 ("The arbor-vita: by riverside behind Monroe’s appears to be just now fairly in blossom."); April 20, 1857 ("Arbor-vitae? apparently in full bloom.") April 21, 1858 (“The arbor-vitae is apparently effete already.”) 

The blossoms of the red maple (some a yellowish green) are now most generally conspicuous and handsome scarlet crescents over the swamps. See April 26, 1860 ("Red maples are past prime. I have noticed their handsome crescents over distant swamps commonly for some ten days. At height, then, say the 21st. They are especially handsome when seen between you and the sunlit trees."); See also April 18, 1856 ("Red maple stamens in some places project considerably, and it will probably blossom to-morrow if it is pleasant. "); April 22, 1855 ("Red maple yesterday, — an early one by further stone bridge."); April 23, 1856 ("The red maple did not shed pollen on the 19th and could not on the 20th, 21st, or 22d, on account of rain; so this must be the first day, — the 23d."); April 24, 1854 ("The first red maple blossoms — so very red over the water — are very interesting. ");April 24, 1857 ("I see the now red crescents of the red maples in their prime . . . above the gray stems.");  April 28, 1855 ("The red maples, now in bloom, are quite handsome at a distance over the flooded meadow beyond Peter’s. The abundant wholesome gray of the trunks and stems beneath surmounted by the red or scarlet crescents.”); April 29, 1856 ("Sat on the knoll in the swamp, now laid bare. How pretty a red maple in bloom (they are now in prime), seen in the sun against a pine wood, like these little ones in the swamp against the neighboring wood, they are so light and ethereal, 

See myrtle-birds.  See April 26, 1854 (“The woods are full of myrtle-birds this afternoon”); and note to April 28, 1855 (“There are a great many myrtle-birds here, — they have been quite common for a week,”)

Hear a golden-crested wren. See April 26, 1860 ("Hear the ruby-crowned wren in the morning, near George Heywood's."). See also May 7, 1854 ("A ruby-crested wren. . .Saw its ruby crest and heard its harsh note. (This was the same I have called golden-crowned . . . except that I saw its ruby crest.. ..Have I seen the two?)”) May 6, 1855 ("Hear at a distance a ruby(?)-crowned wren, . . . I think this the only Regulus I have ever seen.”); December 25, 1859 ("I hear a sharp fine screep from some bird,. . . I can see a brilliant crown. . . . It is evidently the golden-crested wren, which I have not made out before.”). Also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau: the ruby-crowned or crested wren.

I see pigeon woodpeckers billing on an oak at a distance. See  April 23, 1855 ("Saw two pigeon woodpeckers approach and, I think, put their bills together and utter that o-week, o-week."); April 25, 1855 ("Hear the peculiar squeaking notes of a pigeon woodpecker. ")

A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau, The Pigeon Woodpecker (flicker)

Young apple leafing. See May 7, 1858 ("The earliest apple trees begin to leave and to show green veils against the ground and the sky. "); May 21, 1860 ("Noticed the shadows of apple trees yesterday.")

See and hear chewinks, — all their strains; the same date with last year, by accident. See April 26, 1854 ("Hear the first chewink hopping and chewinking among the shrub oaks.") See also  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Chewink (Rufous-sided Towhee)

Many male and female white-throated sparrows. . . The male’s white is buff in the female. See  April 25, 1855 ("Hear a faint cheep and at length detect the white throated sparrow, the handsome and well-marked bird. "); April 25, 1854 ("[Saw] on the low bushes, — shrub oaks, etc., — by path, a large sparrow with ferruginous- brown and white-barred wings, — the white-throated sparrow, — uttered a faint ringing chirp.")  see also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  the White-throated Sparrow

A brown thrasher seen at a little distance. See May 4, 1855 ("Hear a brown thrasher.") May 12, 1855 ("The brown thrasher is a powerful singer; he is a quarter of a mile off across the river, when he sounded within fifteen rods." );May 13, 1855  ("Now, about two hours before sunset, the brown thrashers are particularly musical. One seems to be contending in song with another. The chewink’s strain sounds quite humble in comparison.") See alao A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  The Brown Thrasher

 And the robin sings with more vigor and promise than later in the season. See April 21, 1852 ("The robins sing through the ceaseless rain . . .  It sings with power, like a bird of great faith that sees the bright future through the dark present . . . It is a pure, immortal melody . . . I have not this season heard more robins sing than this rainy day.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  Robins in Spring

April 26. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April 26

And the robin sings

with more vigor and promise

this mizzling still day.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  We see and hear more birds than usual this mizzling and still day.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau 

"A book, each page written in its own season,

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2025

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