Sunday, April 12, 2026

A Book of the Seasons: Elms and the Purple Finch


I would make a chart of our life,
know  why just this circle of creatures completes the world.
Observe all kinds of coincidences,
as what kinds of birds come with what flowers.
Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852

I hear the clear loud
whistle of a purple finch
from the Whiting's elm.

Splendid purple finch –
its glowing redness revealed
when it lifts its wings.
April 12, 1856

The arrival of the purple finches
appears to be coincident with
the blossoming of the elm,
on whose blossom it feeds.



 
April 3.  Going down-town this morning, I am surprised by the rich strain of the purple finch from the elms. Three or four have arrived and lodged against the elms of our street, which runs east and west across their course, and they are now mingling their loud and rich strains with that of the tree sparrows, robins, bluebirds, etc. The hearing of this note implies some improvement in the acoustics of the air. It reminds me of that genial state of the air when the elms are in bloom.  They sit still over the street and make a business of warbling. They advertise me surely of some additional warmth and serenity. How their note rings over the roofs of the village! You wonder that even the sleepers are not awakened by it to inquire who is there, and yet probably not another than myself in all the town observes their coming, and not half a dozen ever distinguished them in their lives. April 3, 1858 

April 4.  Methinks I heard the purple finch. The birds are eager to sing, as the flowers to bloom, after raw weather has held them in check. April 4, 1860

April 6.  The Ulmus Americana is apparently just out here, or possibly yesterday. The U. fulva not yet, of course. The large rusty blossom-buds of the last have been extensively eaten and mutilated, probably by birds, leaving on the branches which I examine mostly mere shells.  April 6, 1858

April 7.  The Cheney elm looks as if it would shed pollen to-morrow.  April 7, 1859 

April 7.  The purple finch, — if not before.  April 7, 1860

April 9.  Elm blossoms now in prime. Their tops heavier against the sky, a rich brown; their outlines further seen. April 9 1853

April 10.  Cheney elm, many anthers shed pollen, probably 7th.  April 10, 1860

April 10.  Purple Finch.  April 10, 1861 

April 11.  I hear the clear, loud whistle of a purple finch, somewhat like and nearly as loud as the robin, from the elm by Whiting's. April 11, 1853

April 12.   Still falls a little snow and rain this morning, though the ground is not whitened. I hear a purple finch, nevertheless, on an elm, steadily warbling and uttering a sharp chip from time to time. April 12, 1855 

April 12.   There suddenly flits before me . . . a splendid purple finch. Its glowing redness is revealed when it lifts its wings.  April 12, 1856 

April 12.   Elm bud-scales have begun to strew the ground, and the trees look richly in flower.  April 12. 1860

April 13.  Snowed all day, till the ground was covered eight inches deep . . . The elm buds begin to show their blossoms.   April 13, 1852

April 13 Heard a purple finch on an elm, like a faint robin. April 13, 1854

April 13.  The streets are strewn with the bud-scales of the elm, which they, opening, have lost off, and their tops present a rich brown already. I hear a purple finch on one.  April 13, 1859 

 April 15The broad flat brown buds on Mr. Cheney's elm, containing twenty or thirty yellowish-green threads, surmounted with little brownish-mulberry cups, which contain the stamens and the two styles, -- these are just expanding or blossoming now. April 15, 1852 

April 15.  I see the white under sides of many purple finches, busily and silently feeding on the elm blossoms within a few feet of me, and now and then their bloody heads and breasts. They utter a faint, clear chip. Their feathers are much ruffled. The arrival of the purple finches appears to be coincident with the blossoming of the elm, on whose blossom it feeds.   April 15, 1854 

April 15.  The purple finch is singing on the elms about the house, together with the robins, whose strain its resembles, ending with a loud, shrill, ringing chili chilt chilt chilt April 15, 1856 

April 16.  Cheney’s elm shows stamens on the warm side pretty numerously.  April 16, 1856 

April 17.  I look up, these snowy days, and see purple finches silently feeding on the elms, when I have heard no sound.  April 17, 1854

April 17.  The flowers of the common elm at Lee’s are now loose and dangling, apparently well out a day or two in advance of Cheney’s, but I see no pollen.  April 17, 1855 

April 21.  The song of the purple finch on the elms (he also frequents firs and spruce) is rich and continuous, like  but fainter and more rapid than, that of a robin, some of the cherruwit in it and a little of the warble of the martin.  April 21, 1854

April 21The puddles have dried off along the road and left thick deposits or water-lines of the dark-purple anthers of the elm, coloring the ground like sawdust. You could collect great quantities of them. April 21, 1858 

April 24.  The elms are now fairly in blossom.  April 24, 1852

May 13.   I suspect the purple finches are all gone within a few days. May 13, 1854

May 24. Hear a purple finch sing more than one minute without pause, loud and rich, on an elm over the street. May 24, 1855

July 7. The purple finch still sings over the street.  July 7, 1856

October 10 There are many small birds in flocks on the elms in Cheney's field, faintly warbling, – robins and purple finches and especially large flocks of small sparrows. October 10, 1853
 


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 ©  2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-purplefinch

Friday, April 10, 2026

A Book of the Seasons: the Kingfisher


 
I would make a chart of our life,
know why just this circle of creatures completes the world.
Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852

A kingfisher flies
in the ricochet manner
across the water.


Its motions when on wing consist of a Series of flaps,
about five or six in number, followed by a direct glide,

without any apparent undulation.
It moves in the same way when flying closely over the water. 

If, in the course of such excursions, the bird passes over a small pool,
it suddenly checks itself in its career, poises itself in the air,

like a Sparrow Hawk or Kestril, and inspects the water beneath,
to discover whether there may be fishes in it suitable to its taste.

Should it find this to be the case, it continues poised for a few seconds,
dashes spirally headlong into the water, seizes a fish,

and alights on the nearest tree or stump,
where it swallows its prey in a moment . . .

It is not unusual to hear the hard, rapid, rattling notes of our Kingfisher,
even amongst the murmuring cascades of our higher mountains.

When the bird is found in such sequestered situations,
well may the angler be assured that trout is abundant. 




April 1. A kingfisher seen and heard. April 1, 1860

April 10.   See a kingfisher flying very low, in the ricochet manner, across the water.  April 10, 1859 

April 11. Saw a kingfisher on a tree over the water. Does not its arrival mark some new movement in its finny prey? He is the bright buoy that betrays it!  April 11, 1856

April 15. See and hear a kingfisher—do they not come with the smooth waters of April? — hurrying over the meadow as if on urgent business.  April 15, 1855

April 17. See several kingfishers.  April 17, 1858

April 22. The bluish band on the breast of the kingfisher leaves the pure white beneath in the form of a heart.   April 22, 1855

April 23.  A kingfisher with his crack, — cr-r-r-rack.  April 23, 1854

April 24. The kingfisher flies with a crack cr-r-r-ack and a limping or flitting flight from tree to tree before us, and finally, after a third of a mile, circles round to our rear. He sits rather low over the water. Now that he has come I suppose that the fishes on which he preys rise within reach. April 24, 1854

April 25. Saw the first kingfisher, and heard his most unmusical note. April 25, 1852

April 30. Hear a kingfisher at Goose Pond. April 30, 1857

May 10. Above the railroad bridge I see a kingfisher twice sustain himself in one place, about forty feet above the meadow, by a rapid motion of his wings, somewhat like a devil's-needle, not progressing an inch, apparently over a fish.  May 10, 1854

June 6.   Hear of a kingfisher's nest, just found in a sand bank behind Abner Buttrick's, with six fresh eggs, of which I have one. The boy said it was six or seven feet deep in the bank. June 6, 1859

June 9. The air is now full of shad-flies, and there is an incessant sound made by the fishes leaping for their evening meal, . . .Meanwhile the kingfishers are on the lookout for the fishes as they rise. I see one dive in the twilight and go off uttering his cr-r-ack, cr-r-rack. June 9, 1854

June 12. Scare a kingfisher on a bough over Walden. As he flies off, he hovers two or three times thirty or forty feet above the pond, and at last dives and apparently catches a fish, with which he flies off low over the water to a tree. June 12, 1854

June 16.  Examined a kingfisher's nest, — though there is a slight doubt if I found the spot. It was formed singularly like that of the bank swallow, i. e. flat-elliptical, some eight inches, as I remember, in the - largest diameter, and located just like a swallow's, in a sand-bank, some twenty inches below the surface. Could feel nothing in it, but it may have been removed. Have an egg from this. June 16, 1859

July 22. Here is a kingfisher frequenting the Corner Brook Pond. They find out such places. July 22, 1852

June 25. I observe many kingfishers at Walden and on the Assabet, very few on the dark and muddy South Branch. June 25, 1854 

July 28. Heard a kingfisher, which had been hovering over the river, plunge forty rods off.  July 28, 1858

August 6. The kingfisher is seen hovering steadily over one spot, or hurrying away with a small fish in his mouth, sounding his alarum nevertheless. August 6, 1858

August 22.  A kingfisher, with his white collar, darted across the river and alighted on an oak. August 22, 1853

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 ©  2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-kingfisher

 

Sunday, March 29, 2026

A Book of the Seasons: The White-Headed Eagle


 I would make a chart of our life,
know why just this circle of creatures
completes the world.
Henry Thoreau,
April 18, 1852

White-headed eagle
edgewise like a black ripple
concealed in the sky.

We who live this plodding life here below
never know how many eagles fly over us.

March 29. Crows, by their swift flight and scolding, reveal to me some large bird of prey hovering over the river. I perceive by its markings and size that it cannot be a hen-hawk, and now it settles on the topmost branch of a white maple, bending it down. Its great armed and feathered legs dangle helplessly in the air for a moment, as if feeling for the perch, while its body is tipping this way and that. It sits there facing me some forty or fifty rods off, pluming itself but keeping a good lookout. At this distance and in this light, it appears to have a rusty-brown head and breast and is white beneath, with rusty leg feathers and a tail black beneath. When it flies again it is principally black varied with white, regular light spots on its tail and wings beneath, but chiefly a conspicuous white space on the forward part of the back; also some of the upper side of the tail or tail coverts is white. It has broad, ragged, buzzard-like wings, and from the white of its back, as well as the shape and shortness of its wings and its not having a gull-like body, I think it must be an eagle. It lets itself down with its legs somewhat helplessly dangling, as if feeling for something on the bare meadow, and then gradually flies away, soaring and circling higher and higher until lost in the downy clouds. This lofty soaring is at least a grand recreation, as if it were nourishing sublime ideas. I should like to know why it soars higher and higher so, whether its thoughts are really turned to earth, for it seems to be more nobly as well as highly employed than the laborers ditching in the meadow beneath or any others of my fellow townsmen. March 29, 1858

April 3. Returning, when off the hill am attracted by the noise of crows, which betray to me a very large hawk, large enough for an eagle, sitting on a maple beneath them. Now and then they dive at him, and at last he sails away low round the hill, as if hunting. April 3, 1855

April 6. As I am going along the Corner Road by the meadow mouse brook, hear and see, a quarter of a mile north west, on those conspicuous white oaks near the river in Hubbard’s second grove, the crows buffeting some intruder. The crows had betrayed to me some large bird of the hawk kind which they were buffeting. I suspected it before I looked carefully. I saw several crows on the oaks, and also what looked to my naked eye like a cluster of the palest and most withered oak  leaves with a black base about as big as a crow. Looking with my glass, I saw that it was a great bird. The crows sat about a rod off, higher up, while another crow was occasionally diving at him, and all were cawing. The great bird was just starting. It was chiefly a dirty white with great broad wings with black tips and black on other parts, giving it the appearance of dirty white, barred with black.  I am not sure whether it was a white-headed eagle or a fish hawk.  There appeared much more white than belongs to either, and more black than the fish hawk has. It rose and wheeled, flapping several times, till it got under way; then, with its rear to me, presenting the least surface, it moved off steadily in its orbit over the woods northwest, with the slightest possible undulation of its wings, — a noble planetary motion, like Saturn with its ring seen edgewise.  It is so rare that we see a large body self sustained in the air. While crows sat still and silent and confessed their lord.  Through my glass I saw the outlines of this sphere against the sky, trembling with life and power as it skimmed the topmost twigs of the wood toward some more solitary oak amid the meadows.  To my naked eye it showed only so much black as a crow in its talons might. Was it not the white-headed eagle in the state when it is called the sea eagle? Perhaps its neck-feathers were erected. April 6, 1856

April 8.  Saw a large bird sail along over the edge of Wheeler's cranberry meadow just below Fair Haven, which I at first thought a gull, but with my glass found it was a hawk and had a perfectly white head and tail and broad or blackish wings. It sailed and circled along over the low cliff, and the crows dived at it in the field of my glass, and I saw it well, both above and beneath, as it turned, and then it passed off to hover over the Cliffs at a greater height. It was undoubtedly a white-headed eagle. It was to the eye but a large hawk.   April 8, 1854

April 23. P. M. — To Lee's Cliff on foot. See my white-headed eagle again, first at the same place, the outlet of Fair Haven Pond. It is a fine sight, he is mainly — i.e. his wings and body — so black against the sky, and they contrast so strongly with his white head and tail. He first flies low over the water; then rises gradually and circles westward toward White Pond. Lying on the ground with my glass, I watch him very easily, and by turns he gives me all possible views of himself. Now I see him edgewise like a black ripple in the air, his white head still as ever turned to earth, and now he turns his under side to me, and I behold the full breadth of his broad black wings, some what ragged at the edges. 

When I observe him edgewise I notice that the tips of his wings curve upward slightly. He rises very high at last, till I almost lose him in the clouds, circling or rather looping along westward, high over river and wood and farm, effectually concealed in the sky. We who live this plodding life here below never know how many eagles fly over us. I think I have got the worth of my glass now that it has revealed to me the white-headed eagle.  April 23, 1854. [See March 13, 1854 ("Bought a telescope to-day for eight dollars.")]

July 26. The note of the white-throated sparrow, a very inspiriting but almost wiry sound, was the first heard in the morning, and with this all the woods rang. This was the prevailing bird in the northern part of Maine . . . We soon passed the island where I had camped four years before, and I recognized the very spot . . . As we were pushing away again, a white-headed eagle sailed over our heads.  The Maine Woods July 26, 1857

July 31.  Soon afterward a white-headed eagle sailed down the stream before us. We drove him several miles, while we were looking for a good place to camp, for we expected to be overtaken by a shower, — and still we could distinguish him by his white tail, sailing away from time to time from some tree by the shore still farther down the stream    The Maine Woods July 31, 1857

August 22. At Baker Farm a large bird rose up near us, which at first I took for a hen-hawk, but it appeared larger. It screamed the same, and finally soared higher and higher till it was almost lost amid the clouds, or could scarcely be distinguished except when it was seen against some white and glowing cumulus. I think it was at least half a mile high, or three quarters, and yet I distinctly heard it scream up there each time it came round, and with my glass saw its head steadily bent toward the ground, looking for its prey. Its head, seen in a proper light, was distinctly whitish, and I suspect it may have been a white headed eagle. It did not once flap its wings up there, as it circled and sailed, though I watched it for nearly a mile. How fit that these soaring birds should be haughty and fierce, not like doves to our race!   August 22, 1858

August 25. The approaching storm . . . came on rapidly, with vivid lightning striking the northern earth and heavy thunder following. Just before, and in the shadow of, the cloud, I saw, advancing majestically with wide circles over the meadowy flood, a fish hawk and, apparently, a black eagle (maybe a young white-head). The first, with slender curved wings and silvery breast, four or five hundred feet high, watching the water while he circled slowly southwesterly. What a vision that could detect a fish at that distance! The latter, with broad black wings and broad tail, thus: hovered only about one hundred feet high; evidently a different species, and what else but an eagle? They soon disappeared southwest, cutting off a bend. The thunder-shower passed off to the southeast. August 25, 1856

September 6 Saw, sailing over Mason Village about 10 A. M., a white-headed and white-tailed eagle with black wings, —  a grand sight. September 6, 1852

September 16. Now I see a large one perchance an eagle, I say to myself! – down in the valley, circling and circling, higher and wider. This way he comes. How beautiful does he repose on the air, in the moment when he is directly over you, and you see the form and texture of his wings! How light he must make himself, how much earthy heaviness expel, before he can thus soar and sail! September 16, 1852

October 26. My loftiest thought is somewhat like an eagle that suddenly comes into the field of view, suggesting great things and thrilling the beholder, as if it were bound hitherward with a message for me; but it comes no nearer, but circles and soars away, growing dimmer, disappointing me, till it is lost behind a cliff or a cloud.  October 26, 1857


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 ©  2009-2026

Saturday, March 14, 2026

A Book of the Seasons, The Cherry-Bird (cedar waxwing)

 

I would make a chart of our life,
know why just this circle of creatures completes the world.
Observe all kinds of coincidences,
as what kinds of birds come with what flowers.
Henry Thoreau

The mountain-ash tree
 and note of the cherry-birds 
coming and going. 


The Cherry-Bird 


See how artfully the seed of a cherry is placed 
in order that a bird may be compelled to transport it. 
It is placed in the very midst of a tempting pericarp, 
so that the creature that would devour a cherry
 must take a stone into its mouth.
The bird is bribed with the pericarp 
to take the stone with it and do this little service for Nature. 
Thus a bird's wing is added to the cherry-stone which was wingless, 
and it does not wait for winds to transport it.
September 1, 1860

March 14.  I hear that many cherry-birds have been seen.  March 14, 1858

March 20.  On that same tree by Conant's orchard, I see a flock of cherry-birds with that alert, chieftain-like look, and hear their seringo note, as if made by their swift flight through the air. They have been seen a week or two.  March 20, 1858 

May 14. Flood tells me he saw cherry-birds on the 12th of April in Monroe's garden. May 14, 1856

May 18.   In the yellow birch and ash swamp west of big yellow birch, I hear the fine note of cherry-birds, much like that of young partridges, and see them on the ash trees.   May 18, 1857

May 26.   Cherry-birds.  May 26, 1859

May 26.   Cherry-birds.  May 26, 1860

May 29.   Cherry-birds on the apple trees. May 29, 1856

May 30.   Cherry-bird on a cherry; also pecking at the apple blossoms.  May 30, 1855   

June 2.  Cherry-birds are the only ones I see in flocks now. I can tell them afar by their peculiar fine springy note. June 2, 1853

June 6.  Still see cherry-birds in flocks of five or six.  June 6, 1856 

June 9.  For a day or two I have heard the fine seringo note of the cherry-birds, and seen them flying past, the only (?) birds, methinks, that I see in small flocks now, except swallows . . . It is twilight . . . Chimney and bank swallows are still hovering over the river, and cherry-birds fly past. June 9, 1854

June 14.  Mr. Bacon thinks that cherry-birds are abundant where cankerworms are. June 14, 1854

June 14.   A cherry-bird’s nest and two eggs in an apple tree fourteen feet from ground. One egg, round black spots and a few oblong, about equally but thinly dispersed over the whole, and a dim, internal, purplish tinge about the large end. It is difficult to see anything of the bird, for she steals away early, and you may neither see nor hear anything of her while examining the nest, and so think it deserted. June 14, 1855

June 16. Cherry-birds numerous, the bold, combative-looking fellows, - etc., etc . . .The note of the cherry-bird is fine and ringing, but peculiar and very noticeable. With its crest it is a resolute and combative-looking bird. June 16, 1854

June 16.  The cherry-bird’s egg was a satin color, or very pale slate, with an internal or what would be called black-and-blue ring about large end.  June 16, 1855

June 21.  Cherry-birds. I have not seen, though I think I have heard them before, — their fine seringo note, like a vibrating spring in the air. They are a handsome bird, with their crest and chestnut breasts. There is no keeping the run of their goings and comings, but they will be ready for the cherries when they shall be ripe. June 21, 1852

June 21.
  
Still see cherry-birds in flock. June 21, 1853

June 25.  An unusual quantity of amelanchier berries . . . I never saw nearly so many before. It is a very agreeable surprise. I hear the cherry-birds and others about me, no doubt attracted by this fruit. June 25, 1853

June 29. The cherry-bird's note is like the fine peep of young partridges or woodcocks. June 29, 1854

July 5.  It is growing warm again, but the warmth is different from that we have had. We lie in the shade of locust trees. Haymakers go by in a hay-rigging. I am reminded of berrying. I scent the sweet-fern and the dead or dry pine leaves. Cherry-birds alight on a neighboring tree. The warmth is something more normal and steady, ripening fruits . . . It begins to be such weather as when people go a-huckle-berrying. Nature offers fruits now as well as flowers. We have become accustomed to the summer. It has acquired a certain eternity. July 5, 1852

July 10.  Cherry-bird commonly heard . . . The singing birds at present are: —Rural: Song sparrow, seringos, flicker, kingbird, goldfinch, link of bobolink, cherry-bird.  July 10, 1854

July 19. The cherry-birds are making their seringo sound as they flit past.  July 19,1851

July 28.  Cherry-bird common.  July 28, 1854

August 12.  Cherry-bird heard.  August 12, 1854

August 14.   The fine note of the cherry-bird, pretty often.  August 14, 1858 

August 19. Saw cherry-birds flying lower over Heywood meadow like swallows, apparently for flies, and heard them, cricket-like.  August 19, 1854

August 29Many birds nowadays resort to the wild black cherry tree, as here front of Tarbell's. I see them continually coming and going directly from and to a great distance, — cherry birds, robins, and kingbirds. August 29, 1854 

August 26.   I saw a cherry-bird peck from the middle of its upright (vertical) web on a bush one of those large (I think yellow-marked) spiders within a rod of me. It dropped to the ground, and then the bird picked it up. It left a hole or rent in the middle of the web. The spider cunningly spreads his net for feebler insects, and then takes up his post in the centre, but perchance a passing bird picks him from his conspicuous station.  August 26, 1859 

September 1. In the sprout-land behind Britton's Camp, I came to a small black cherry full of fruit, and then, for the first time for a long while, I see and hear cherry-birds — their shrill and fine seringo — and the note of robins, which of late are scarce. We sit near the tree and listen to the now unusual sounds of these birds, and from time to time one or two come dashing from out the sky toward this tree, till, seeing us, they whirl, disappointed, and perhaps alight on some neighboring twigs and wait till we are gone. The cherry-birds and robins seem to know the locality of every wild cherry in the town. You are as sure to find them on them now, as bees and butterflies on the thistles. If we stay long, they go off with a fling, to some other cherry tree, which they know of but we do not.  September 1, 1859
 
September 10. Cherry-birds common. September 10, 1854

September 22.  The mountain-ash trees are alive with robins and cherry-birds nowadays, stripping them of their fruit (in drooping clusters). It is exceedingly bitter and austere to my taste. Such a tree fills the air with the watch-spring-like note of the cherry-birds coming and going. September 22, 1859

October  5.  See a cherry-bird.  October 5, 1857
 
December 22. In a (apparently kingbird's?) nest on this island I saw three cherry-stones, as if it had carried home this fruit to its young. It was, outside, of gnaphalium and saddled on a low limb. Could it have been a cherry-bird? December 22, 1859


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 ©  2009-2026

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