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 they do not mind me..

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 sternothoerus 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. Some times it seems to be the grass itself, sometimes on the surface of the bare meadow. They are not now thrust ing 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

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 30, 1855 (“The woodchuck has. . . exactly that peculiar rank scent which I perceive in a menagerie.”); April 12, 1855 (“For a week past I have frequently seen the tracks of woodchucks in the sand. ”); 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")

And also the booming. See note to April 9, 1858 ("This “booming” of the snipe is our regular village serenade.”)

It is a bird of many colors.

April 28.

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

April 28, 2015

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. 

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

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")

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 slso A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Red Maple

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

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. 

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

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.

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

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, — the robin’s note, etc., —in the tops of the high wood (probably the ruby-crowned kinglet) 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.

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)

The bushes ringing with the evening song of song sparrows and robins, and the evening sky reflected from the surface of the rippled water

April 25.

A moist April morning. 

A small native willow leafing  and showing catkins to-day; also the black cherry in some places. 

The common wild rose to-morrow. Balm-of-Gilead will not shed pollen apparently for a day or more. Shepherd’s-purse will bloom to-day,—the first I have noticed which has sprung from the ground this season, or of an age. 

Say lilac begins to leaf with common currant. 

P. M. — To Beck Stow’s. 

Hear a faint cheep and at length detect the white throated sparrow, the handsome and well-marked bird, the largest of the sparrows, with a yellow spot on each side of the front, hopping along under the rubbish left by the woodchopper. I afterward hear a faint cheep very rapidly repeated, making a faint sharp jingle,—no doubt by the same. Many sparrows have a similar faint metallic cheep, —the tree sparrow and field sparrow, for instance. I first saw the white-throated sparrow at this date last year. 

Hear the peculiar squeaking notes of a pigeon woodpecker. 

Two black ducks circle around me three or four times, wishing to alight in the swamp, but finally go to the river meadows. I hear the whistling of their wings. Their bills point downward in flying. 

The Andromeda calyculata is out in water, in the little swamp east of Beck Stow’s, some perhaps yesterday; and C. says he saw many bluets yesterday, and also that he saw two F. hyemalis yesterday. 

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.

After sunset paddle up to the Hubbard Bath. The bushes ringing with the evening song of song sparrows and robins, and the evening sky reflected from the surface of the rippled water like the lake grass on pools. 

A spearers’ fire seems three times as far off as it is.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 25, 1855


Hear a faint cheep and at length detect the white throated sparrow, the handsome and well-marked bird .. . See 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.")

A spearers’ fire seems three times as far off as it is. See April 25, 1856 ("At evening see a spearer’s light.")

The Salix alba begins to leaf.

April 24.

P. M. — To Flint’s Pond. 

Warm and quite a thick haze. Cannot see distant  hills, nor use my glass to advantage. 

The Equisetum arvense on the causeway sheds its green pollen, which looks like lint on the hand abundantly, and may have done so when I first saw it upon the 21st. 

Young caterpillars’ nests are just hatched on the wild cherry. Some are an inch in diameter, others just come out. The little creatures have crawled at once to the extremity of the twigs and commenced at once on the green buds just about to burst, eating holes into them. They do not come forth till the buds are about to burst. 

I see on the pitch pines at Thrush Alley that golden crested wren or the other, ashy-olive above and whitish beneath, with a white bar on wings, restlessly darting at insects like a flycatcher, —into the air after them. It is quite tame. A very neat bird, but does not sing now. 

I see a bee like a small bumble-bee go into a little hole under a leaf in the road, which apparently it has made, and come out again back foremost. 

That fine slaty-blue butterfly, bigger than the small red, in wood-paths. 

I see a cone-bearing willow in dry woods, which will begin to leaf to-morrow, and apparently to show cones. 

Pyrus arbutifolia will begin to leaf to-morrow. Its buds are red while those of the shad-bush are green.

I can find no red cedar in bloom, but it will undoubtedly shed pollen to-morrow. It is on the point of it. I am not sure that the white cedar is any earlier. The sprigs of red cedar, now full of the buff-colored staminate flowers, like fruit, are very rich. 

The next day they shed an abundance of pollen in the house. It is a clear buff color, while that of the white cedar is very different, being a faint salmon. It would be very pleasant to make a collection of these powders,—like dry ground paints. They would be the right kind of chemicals to have. 

I see the black birch stumps, where they have cut by Flint’s Pond the past winter, completely covered with a greasy-looking pinkish-colored cream, yet without any particular taste or smell,—what the sap has turned to. 

The Salix alba begins to leaf. 

Have not seen the F. hyemalis for a week.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 24, 1855

Black birch stumps . . . cut by Flint’s Pond the past winter, . .. covered with a greasy-looking pinkish-colored cream.  See June 29, 1854 ("All the large black birches on Hubbard's Hill have just been cut down, — half a dozen or more. The two largest measure two feet seven inches in diameter on the stump at a foot from the ground; the others, five or six inches less. The inner bark there about five eighths of an inch."). . See also  April 23, 1856 ("The white birch sap flows yet from a stump cut last fall, and a few small bees, flies, etc., are attracted by it.")

Young caterpillars’ nests are just hatched on the wild cherry. See April 24, 1856 ("old caterpillar-nests which now lie on the ground under wild cherry trees . . .”)

I see on the pitch pines at Thrush Alley that golden crested wren or the other. (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.”);  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.”)

Confusing spring hawks: frog hawk , partridge hawk, hen hawk etc, The books are very unsatisfactory,

April 23.

River higher than before since winter. Whole of Lee Meadow covered. 

Saw two pigeon woodpeckers approach and, I think, put their bills together and utter that o-week, o-week. 

The currant and second gooseberry are bursting into leaf. 

P.M. — To Cedar Swamp via Assabet. 

Warm and pretty still. Even the riversides are quiet at this hour (3 P.M.) as in summer; the birds are neither seen nor heard. 

The anthers of the larch are conspicuous, but I see no pollen. White cedar to-morrow.

See a frog hawk beating the bushes regularly. What a peculiarly formed wing! It should be called the kite. Its wings are very narrow and pointed, and its form in front is a remarkable curve, and its body is not heavy and buzzard-like. It occasionally hovers over some parts of the meadow or hedge and circles back over it, only rising enough from time to time to clear the trees and fences. 

Soon after I see hovering over Sam Barrett’s, high sailing, a more buzzard-like brown hawk, black-barred beneath and on tail, with short, broad, ragged wings and perhaps a white mark on under side of wings. The chickens utter a note of alarm. Is it the broad-winged hawk (Falco Pennsylvanicus)? (Probably not.)

But why should the other be called F. fuscus? I think this is called the partridge hawk. The books are very unsatisfactory on these two hawks. 

Apparently barn swallows over the river. And do I see bank swallows also? 

C. says he has seen a yellow-legs. 

I have seen also for some weeks occasionally a brown hawk with white rump, flying low, which I have thought the frog hawk in a different stage of plumage; but can it be at this season? and is it not the marsh hawk? Yet it is not so heavy nearly as the hen-hawk -- probably female hen-harrier [i. e. marsh hawk].

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 23, 1855


Saw two pigeon woodpeckers approach and, I think, put their bills together and utter that o-week, o-week. See  April 8, 1855 (" Hear and see a pigeon woodpecker, something like week-up week-up. April 15, 1858 (" See a pair of woodpeckers on a rail and on the ground a-courting. One keeps hopping near the other, and the latter hops away a few feet, and so they accompany one another a long distance, uttering sometimes a faint or short a-week"); April 22, 1856 ("Going through Hubbard’s root-fence field, see a pigeon woodpecker on a fence post. He shows his lighter back between his wings cassock-like and like the smaller woodpeckers. Joins his mate on a tree and utters the wooing note o-week o-week,");  October 5, 1857 ("The pigeon woodpecker utters his whimsical ah-week ah-week, etc., as in spring."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Pigeon Woodpecker (flicker).

Confusing hawks. See also May 4, 1855 ("I think that what I have called the sparrow hawk falsely, and latterly pigeon hawk, is also the sharp-shinned (vide April 26th and May 8th, 1854, and April 16th, 1855), for the pigeon hawk’s tail is white-barred. “); July 2, 1856 (“Looked at the birds in the Natural History Rooms in Boston. Observed no white spots on the sparrow hawk’s wing, or on the pigeon or sharp-shinned hawk’s. Indeed they were so closed that I could not have seen them. Am uncertain to which my wing belongs.”) See also  A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, The Pigeon Hawk (Merlin)

A brown hawk with white rump, flying low, which I have thought the frog hawk in a different stage of plumage. . . probably female hen-harrier.  See May 1, 1855 (" What I have called the frog hawk is probably the male hen-harrier, . . .MacGillivray . . .says . . . the large brown bird with white rump is the female"); March 21, 1859 ("I see a female marsh hawk. . I not only see the white rump but the very peculiar crescent-shaped curve of its wings. "); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Marsh Hawk (Northern Harrier)

The grass is now become rapidly green by the sides of the road, promising dandelions and butter cups

April 22.

5.30 A. M. — To Assabet stone bridge. 

Tree sparrows still. See a song sparrow getting its breakfast in the water on the meadow like a wader. 

Red maple yesterday, — an early one by further stone bridge. Balm-of-Gilead probably to-morrow.

The black currant is just begun to expand leaf — probably yesterday elsewhere -a little earlier than the red. 

Though my hands are cold this morning I have not worn gloves for a few mornings past, — a week or . ten days. 

The grass is now become rapidly green by the sides of the road, promising dandelions and butter cups. 

P. M. — To Lee’s Cliff. 

Fair, but windy. 

Tree sparrows about with their buntingish head and faint chirp. The leaves of the skunk-cabbage, unfolding in the meadows, make more show than any green yet. 

The yellow willow catkins pushing out begin to give the trees a misty, downy appearance, dimming them. 

The bluish band on the breast of the kingfisher leaves the pure white beneath in the form of a heart. 

The blossoms of the sweet-gale are now on fire over the brooks, contorted like caterpillars. The female flowers also out like the hazel, with more stigmas,—out at same time with the male. 

I first noticed my little mud turtles in the cellar out of their [sic], one of them, some eight days ago. I suspect those in the river begin to stir about that time? 

Antennaria probably yesterday, Skull-cap Meadow Ditch. 

Many yellow redpolls on the willows now. They jerk their tails constantly like phoebes, but I hear only a faint chip. Could that have been a female with them, with an ash head and merely a yellow spot on each side of body, white beneath, and forked tail?

Red stemmed moss now. 

Goosanders, male and female. They rise and fly, the female leading. They afterward show that they can get out of sight about as well by diving as by flying. At a distance you see only the male, alternately diving and sailing, when the female may be all the while by his side. 

Getting over the wall under the middle Conantum Cliff, I hear a loud and piercing sharp whistle of two notes, — phe phe, like a peep somewhat. Could it  be a wood-chuck? Hear afterward under Lee’s Cliff a similar fainter one, which at one time appears to come from a pigeon woodpecker. 

Cowbirds on an apple tree. 

Crowfoot on Cliff. Johnswort radical leaves have grown several inches and angelica shows. Elder leaves have grown one and a half inches, and thimble-berry is forward under rocks. Meadow sweet in some places begins to open to-day; also barberry under Cliffs and a moss rose tomorrow. 

Say earliest gooseberry, then elder, raspberry, thimble berry, and low blackberry (the last two under rocks), then wild red cherry, then black currant (yesterday), then meadow sweet, and barberry under Cliff, to-day. A moss rose to-morrow and hazel under Cliffs to morrow.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 22, 1855

The female flowers also out like the hazel, with more stigmas,—out at same time with the male.. . .Hazel under Cliffs to morrow. See March 27, 1853 ("The hazel is fully out. The 23d was perhaps full early to date them. It is in some respects the most interesting flower yet, so minute that only an observer of nature, or one who looked for them, would notice it."); March 31, 1853 ("The catkins of the hazel are now trembling in the wind and much lengthened, showing yellowish and beginning to shed pollen.”); and April 7, 1854 ("The hazel stigmas are well out and the catkins loose, but no pollen shed yet. “); April 9, 1854 (" The beaked hazel stigmas out; put it just after the common."'); April 11, 1856 ("The hazel sheds pollen to-day; some elsewhere possibly yesterday.”);April 13, 1855 ("The common hazel just out. It is perhaps the prettiest flower of the shrubs that have opened. . . .half a dozen catkins, one and three quarters inches long, trembling in the wind, shedding golden pollen . . . . They know when to trust themselves to the weather.");  April 18, 1857 ("The beaked hazel, if that is one just below the little pine at Blackberry Steep, is considerably later than the common, for I cannot get a whole twig fully out, though the common is too far gone to gather there. The catkins, too, are shorter.”) See also A Book of the Seasons: the Hazel.

Though my hands are cold this morning I have not worn gloves for a few mornings past, — a week or . ten days. See April 10, 1855 ("The morning of the 6th, when I found the skunk cabbage out, it was so cold I suffered from numbed fingers, having left my gloves behind. Since April came in, however, you have needed gloves only in the morning. Under some high bare bank sloping to the south on the edge of a meadow, where many springs, issuing from the bank, melt the snow early, — there you find the first skunk-cabbage in bloom.")

The leaves of the skunk-cabbage, unfolding in the meadows, make more show than any green yet. See April 22, 1857 ("At the Cliff Brook I see the skunk-cabbage leaves not yet unrolled, with their points gnawed off. ") See also  . April 7, 1855  ("At six this morn to Clamshell. The skunk-cabbage open yesterday, — the earliest flower this season") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Skunk Cabbage

Goosanders, male and female. At a distance you see only the male, alternately diving and sailing, when the female may be all the while by his side.  See March 16, 1855 (“Returning, scare up two large ducks just above the bridge. One very large; white beneath, breast and neck; black head and wings and aft. The other much smaller and dark. Apparently male and female. They alight more than a hundred rods south of the bridge, and I view them with glass. The larger sails about on the watch, while the smaller, dark one dives repeatedly. I think it the goosander or sheldrake”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Merganser, Goosander)

It affects us as a part of our unfallen selves.

April 21.

5 A. M. — To Cliffs. 

Fair and still. There is a fog over the river, which shows at a distance more than near by. Not much.

The frost conceals the green of the gooseberry leaves just expanding. 

The shallow puddles left by yesterday’s rain in the fields are skimmed over.

At Cliffs, I hear at a distance a wood thrush. It affects us as a part of our unfallen selves.

The Populus grandidentata there may open to-morrow. 

The frost saves my feet a wetting probably. 

As I sit on the Cliffs, the sound of the frost and frozen drops melting and falling on the leaves in the woods below sounds like a gentle but steady rain all the country over, while the sun shines clear above all. 

P. M. — Sail to meadow near Carlisle Bridge. 

A fine, clear, and pleasant day with a little west wind.

Saw a painted turtle not two inches in diameter. This must be more than one year old. 

A female red wing. 

I see yellow redpolls on the bushes near the water, — handsome birds, -— but hear no note. 

Watch for some time a dozen black ducks on the meadow’s edge in a retired place, some on land and some sailing. Fifty rods off and without the glass, they look like crows feeding on the meadow’s edge, with a scarcely perceptible tinge of brown.

Examining the ground afterward, find that the whitish lichen thallus (which formed a crust, a sort of scurfy bald place, here and there in the meadow where the water had just risen) was loosened up and floating over the bare spaces mixed with a few downy feathers. I thought the flat meadow islets showed traces of having been probed by them. 

All the button-bushes, etc., etc., in and about the water are now swarming with those minute fuzzy gnats about an eighth of an inch long. The insect youth are on the wing. The whole shore resounds with their hum wherever we approach it, and they cover our boat and persons. They are in countless myriads the whole length of the river. 

A peep, peetweet, on the shore. There is some gossamer on the willows. 

The river has risen considerably, owing to yesterday’s rain, and new drift is brought down. The greater fullness of the Assabet is perceptible at the junction. 

The New York Tribune said on the 19th, “The caterpillar-blossoms, and the slightest peeping of green leaves among the poplars and willows, and a tolerable springing of grass, are the only vegetable proofs yet to be seen.” I should think they were just with our gooseberry.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 21, 1855

At Cliffs, I hear at a distance a wood thrush. . See April 21, 1858 ("Ed. Hoar says he heard a wood thrush the 18th.");  April 21, 1861 ("H. Mann brings me the hermit thrush."); see also April 20, 1860 ("C. sees bluets and some kind of thrush to-day, size of wood thrush, — he thought probably hermit thrush.") and note to April 24, 1856 ("Returning, in the low wood just this side the first Second Division Brook, near the meadow, see a brown bird flit, and behold my hermit thrush, with one companion, flitting silently through the birches") See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of Spring: The Arrival of the Hermit Thrush

The Populus grandidentata may open to-morrow. See April 21, 1858 ("Populus grandidentata some days at least. ") ;see also. April 19, 1854 ("The Populus grandidentata will not open for a day or two"); April 22, 1859 (" Go by a Populus grandidentata. . . just begun to shed their pollen, not hanging loose and straight yet, but curved, are a very rich crimson,. . . much the handsomest now before the crimson anthers have burst, and are all the more remarkable for the very open and bare habit of the tree.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Big-toothed Aspen (Populus grandidentata)

Saw a painted turtle not two inches in diameter. This must be more than one year old. See  April 24, 1856 ("I find, on the southeast side of Lupine Hill, nearly four rods from the water and a dozen feet above its level, a young Emys picta, one and five eighths inches long and one and a half wide. I think it must have been hatched year before last. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Painted Turtle (Emys picta)

A female red wing. See April 13, 1854 ("Think I see a female red wing flying with some males"); April 30, 1855 ("Red-wing blackbirds now fly in large flocks, covering the tops of trees like a black fruit, and keep up an incessant gurgling and whistling.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Red-wing in Spring

I see yellow redpolls on the bushes near the water, — handsome birds, -— but hear no note. See April 30, 1855 (".Hear a short, rasping note, somewhat tweezer-bird like, I think from a yellow redpoll.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Yellow Redpoll ( Palm) Warbler

The insect youth are on the wing in countless myriads the whole length of the river. See April 30, 1855 (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"") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Fuzzy Gnats (tipulidæ)

Confined by the rain.

April 20.

Rains all day, taking out the frost and imprisoning me. You cannot set a post yet on account of frost.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 20, 1855


Rains all day, . . . imprisoning me. See April 20, 1856 (“ Rain, rain, rain, a northeast storm.") See also  April 17, 1857 ("Rain. It rains about every other day now for a fortnight past.”);April 22, 1856 (“These rain-storms -- this is the third day of one -- characterize 'the season, and belong rather to winter than to summer.”)

See also  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April 20

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 ©  2009-2023