I meet a blue heron flying slowly down stream.

April 29.

April 29, 2012

P M. — To Cliffs by boat in the misty rain.  The barn swallows are very numerous, flying low over the water in the rain. This is the second day of rain, and the river has risen about as high as any time this year.

What an entertainment this river affords! It is subject to so great overflows, owing to its broad intervals, that a day's rain produces a new landscape. Let it rain heavily one whole day, and the river will be increased from half a dozen rods in width to nearly a mile in some places, and, where I walked dry-shod yesterday a-maying, I sail with a smacking breeze to-day, and fancy that I am a sailor on the ocean.

It is an advantage which all towns do not possess. 

Off the Cliffs, I meet a blue heron flying slowly downstream. He flaps slowly and heavily, his long, level, straight and sharp bill projecting forward, then his keel-like neck doubled up, and finally his legs thrust out straight behind.  He alights on a rock, and stands erect awhile.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 29, 1854
 

The four seasons of greenness.

April 28.

6 A.M. – Dug up two of half a dozen, the only black spruce suitable to transplant that I know hereabouts. 

Rain all day, making the grass look green. Nawshawtuct now in the rain looks about as green as a Roxbury russet –– the russet is yielding to the green. 

April 28, 2019

Perhaps the greenness of the landscape may be said to begin fairly now. 

For the last half of this month, indeed, a tinge of green has been discernible on the sides of hills. Saw yesterday some cows turned out to pasture on such a hillside; thought they would soon eat up all the grass. This is coincident, then, with the leafing of the gooseberry, or earliest native shrub. 

First, you may say, is the starting of a few radical leaves, etc., and grass blades in favorable localities, and the blossoming of the earliest trees and herbs. 

Secondly, during the last half of April the earth acquires a distinct tinge of green, which finally prevails over the russet. 

Third. Then begins the leafing of the earliest shrubs and trees and the decided greenness and floweriness of the earth, in May.

Fourth. Then the decided leafiness in June and the first great crop of the year, the leaf or grass crop.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 28, 1854

The leafing of the gooseberry, or earliest native shrub. See April 13, 1856 ("The early gooseberry leaf-buds in garden have burst,"); April 17, 1855("The earliest gooseberry leaves are fairly unfolding now, and show some green at a little distance."); April 21, 1855 ("The frost conceals the green of the gooseberry leaves just expanding. "); April 23, 1855 (" The currant and second gooseberry are bursting into leaf"); April 24, 1856 ("The earliest gooseberry leaf has spread a third of an inch or more.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Leaf-Out

Perhaps the greenness of the landscape may be said to begin fairly now. See April 4, 1859 ("Brown Season of the spring lasts from the time the snow generally begins to go off. . .through the first week of April this year. Ordinary years it must be somewhat later.")

• .grass blades in favorable localities. See April 1, 1855 ("When I look out the window I see that the grass on the bank on the south side of the house is already much greener than it was yesterday; April 10, 1855 ("There is the slightest perceptible green on the hill now.")

• a distinct tinge of green, which finally prevails over the russet. See April 14, 1854 ("There is a general tinge of green now discernible through the russet on the bared meadows and the hills, the green blades just peeping forth amid the withered ones. "); April 23, 1854 ("How thickly the green blades are starting up amid the russet! The tinge of green is gradually increasing in the face of the russet earth."); April 25, 1859 ( "I got to-day and yesterday the first decided impression of greenness beginning to prevail")

• the decided greenness and floweriness of the earth, in May. See May 18, 1852 ("I doubt if the landscape will be any greener.")

• the decided leafiness in June. See May 26, 1854 (At sight of this deep and dense field all vibrating with motion and light, winter recedes many degrees in my memory. . . . The season of grass, now everywhere green and luxuriant."); June 9, 1852 ("The general leafiness, shadiness, and waving of grass and boughs in the breeze characterize the season.")

The distinct greenness

of the landscape now prevails

over the russet.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The four seasons of greenness.

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 ©  2009-2024

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-540428

In the morning sun

April 27

April 27, 2024,  7:28AM

7 A. M. – To Cliffs. 

Equisetum arvense on the railroad; and may have been two or three days did not look. 

I am at length convinced of the increased freshness (green or yellow) of the willow bark in the spring. Some a clear yellow, others a delightful liquid green. The bark peels well now; how long? 

The rain of last night is helping to bring down the oak leaves. 

The [] thrush afar, so superior a strain to that of other birds. I was doubting if it would affect me as of yore, but it did measurably. I did not believe there could be such differences. This is the gospel according to the [] thrush. He makes a sabbath out of a week-day. I could go to hear him, could buy a pew in his church. Did he ever practice pulpit eloquence? He is right on the slavery question. 

The brown thrasher, too, is along. 

I find a thread like stamen now between the nutlets of the callitriche- probably three or four days. Some creature appears to have eaten this plant. 

The yellow redpolls still numerous; sing chill lill lill lill lill lill.

The meadow-sweet and sweet-fern are beginning to leaf, and the currant in garden.

Stand on Cliffs about 7 a.m. Through a warm mistiness I see the waters with their reflections in the morning sun, while the wood thrush and huckleberry-bird, etc., are heard, — an unprofaned hour. 

I hear the black and white creeper's note, — seeser seeser seeser se. 

What a shy fellow my hermit thrush! 

I hear the beat of a partridge and the spring hoot of an owl, now at 7 a.m. 

Hear a faint sort of oven-bird's (?) note. 

. . .

Misfortunes occur only when a man is false to his Genius. You cannot hear music and noise at the same time.

. . .

It is remarkable that the rise and fall of Walden, though unsteady, and whether periodical or merely occasional, are not completed but after many years. I have observed one rise and part of two falls. It attains its maximum slowly and surely, though un-steadily. It is remarkable that this fluctuation, whether periodical or not, requires many years for its accomplishment, and I expect that a dozen or fifteen years hence it will again be as low as I have ever known. 

The Salix alba begins to leaf, and the catkins are three quarters of an inch long. 

The balm-of-Gilead is in bloom, about one and a half or two inches long, and some hang down straight. 

Quite warm to-day. In the afternoon the wind changed to east, and apparently the cool air from the sea condensed the vapor in our atmosphere, making us think it would rain every moment; but it did not till midnight.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 27, 1854

I am at length convinced of the increased freshness (green or yellow) of the willow bark in the spring. See March 25, 1854 ("Willow osiers near Mill Brook mouth I am almost certain have acquired a fresher color; at least they surprise me at a distance by their green passing through yellowish to red at top."); . February 24, 1855 ("You will often fancy that they look brighter before the spring has come, and when there has been no change in them"); March 2, 1860 ("This phenomenon, whether referable to a change in the condition of the twig or to the spring air and light, or even to our imaginations, is not the less a real phenomenon, affecting us annually at this season. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Osier in Winter and early Spring

In the morning sun. See September 13, 1851("The morning is not pensive like the evening, but joyous and youthful,"); July 18, 1851 ("It is a test question affecting the youth of a person , — Have you knowledge of the morning? Do you sympathize with that season of nature? Are you abroad early, brushing the dews aside ? "); June 13, 1852 ("All things in this world must be seen with the morning dew on them, must be seen with youthful, early-opened, hopeful eyes"); August 31, 1852 ("Morning is full of promise and vigor. Evening is pensive."); March 22, 1853 ("As soon as these spring mornings arrive in which the birds sing, I am sure to be an early riser.. . .expecting the dawn in so serene and joyful and expectant a mood."); February 25, 1859 ("Measure your health by your sympathy with morning and spring. If there is no response in you to the awakening of nature, — if the prospect of an early morning walk does not banish sleep, if the warble of the first bluebird does not thrill you,— know that the morning and spring of your life are past.")

Black and white creeper's note. , , ,.Hear a faint sort of oven-bird's  note.   See April 27, 1855 ("The black and white creepers running over the trunks or main limbs of red maples and uttering their fainter oven-bird—like notes."); 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 yellow redpolls still numerous; sing chill lill lill lill lill lill. See  April 9, 1854 ("Saw several more redpolls with their rich, glowing yellow breasts by the causeway sides."); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Yellow Redpoll ( Palm) Warbler

The meadow-sweet and sweet-fern are beginning to leaf, and the currant in garden. See  April 24, 1860 (The meadow-sweet and hardhack have begun to leaf);  April 26, 1860 ("Sweet-fern (that does not flower) leafing"); April 22, 1855 ("The black currant is just begun to expand leaf — probably yesterday elsewhere -a little earlier than the red.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Leaf-Out

The Salix alba begins to leaf. See April 24, 1855 ("The Salix alba begins to leaf."); April 29, 1855 ("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.")

I was doubting if it would affect me as of yore, but it did measurably. . .What a shy fellow my hermit thrush! See  April 18, 1854. ("Was surprised to see a wagtail thrush."); April 21, 1855 (" It affects us as a part of our unfallen selves.”) and  note to April 24, 1856 ("Behold my hermit thrush, with one companion, flitting silently through the birches.") See also   A Book of the Seasons , by Henry Thoreau, Early Spring: The Arrival of the Hermit Thrush


You cannot hear music and noise at the same time. Compare November 20, 1851 ("It is often said that melody can be heard farther than noise, and the finest melody farther than the coarsest. I think there is truth in this, and that accordingly those strains of the piano which reach me here in my attic stir me so much more.")

Rise and fall of Walden. See December 5, 1852 ("This great rise of [Walden] pond after an interval of many years, and the water standing at this great height for a year or more, kills the shrubs and trees about its edge, — pitch pines, birches, alders, aspens, etc., — and, falling again, leaves an unobstructed shore"); November 26, 1858 (“Walden is very low, compared with itself for some years. . . ., and what is remarkable, I find that not only Goose Pond also has fallen correspondingly within a month, but even the smaller pond-holes only four or five rods over, such as Little Goose Pond, shallow as they are. I begin to suspect, therefore, that this rise and fall extending through a long series of years is not peculiar to the Walden system of ponds, but is true of ponds generally, and perhaps of rivers”) See also Walden ("The pond rises and falls, but whether regularly or not, and within what period, nobody knows, though, as usual, many pretend to know. It is commonly higher in the winter and lower in the summer, though not corresponding to the general wet and dryness. I can remember when it was a foot or two lower, and also when it was at least five feet higher, than when I lived by it. . . . This makes a difference of level, at the outside, of six or seven feet.") And see R. Primack, Tracing Water Levels at Walden Pond. (2016); Walden Pond - Water Level Changes (2018)

In the afternoon the wind changed to east. . . making us think it would rain every moment; but it did not till midnight. See April 27, 1857 ("It is a true April morning with east wind, the sky overcast with wet-looking clouds, and already some drops have fallen. It will surely rain to-day, but when it will begin in earnest and how long it will last, none can tell."); See also April 22, 1856 ("It has rained two days and nights, and now the sun breaks out, but the wind is still easterly, and the storm probably is not over . . . These rain-storms -- this is the third day of one -- characterize 'the season, and belong rather to winter than to summer."); April 26, 1859 ("This is the last of the rains (spring rains !) which invariably followed an east wind."); April 28, 1856(" On our return the wind changed to easterly, and I felt the cool, fresh sea-breeze.");   April 29, 1856 ("It was quite warm when I first came out, but about 3 P. M. I felt a fresh easterly wind, and saw quite a mist in the distance produced by it, a sea-turn . . .  Your first warning of it may be the seeing a thick mist on all the hills and in the horizon."); April 30, 1856 ("at one o’clock there was the usual fresh easterly wind and sea-turn . . .and a fresh cool wind from the sea produces a mist in the air.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Sea-turn

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

An unprofaned hour –

waters with their reflections

in the morning sun.

The beat of a partridge

and spring hoot of an owl now

at 7 a.m.

April 27, 2014

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, in the morning sun.

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 ©  2009-2024

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-540427

A still, overcast, warm Spring day.

April 26.

— To Lee's Cliff on foot. 

A still, warm, overcast day with a southwest wind, and the finest possible dew-like rain in the air from time to time, now more of the sun. It is now so warm that I go back to leave my greatcoat for the first time, and the cooler smell of possible rain is refreshing.

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. These small birds — and all small birds — seen against the sky at a little distance look black. There is not breadth enough to their colors to make any impression; they are mere motes, intercepting the light, the substance of a shadow. 

Hear the first chewink hopping and chewinking among the shrub oaks.

To-day the air is full of birds; they attend the opening of the buds.  The buds start, then the insects, then the birds. 

Birds sing all day when it is warm, still, and overcast as now, much more than in clear weather, and the hyla too is heard, as at evening. The hylodes commonly begins early in the afternoon, and its quire increases till evening. 

I hear now snipes far over the meadow incessantly at 3.15 p. m.

Saw probably a pigeon hawk skim straight and low over field and wood, and another the next day apparently dark slate-color. 

It is warm and still, almost sultry, as if there might be a thunder-shower before night. 

Now look down on Fair Haven. How pleasant in spring a still, overcast, warm day like this, when the water is smooth!

9 P. M. Quite a heavy thunder-shower, -- the second lightning, I think. The vivid lightning, as I walk the street, reveals the contrast between day and night. The rising cloud in the west makes it very dark and difficult to find my way , when there comes a flash which lights up the street for a moment almost as brightly as the day , far more so than moonlight, and I see a person on the sidewalk before me fifty rods off . 

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 26, 1854



Hear the first chewink hopping and chewinking among the shrub oaks. See April 26, 1855 ("See and hear chewinks, — all their strains; the same date with last year, by accident.");   April 28, 1856 ("See a chewink (male) in the Kettell place woods."); April 28, 1856   (“See, but not yet hear, the familiar chewink amid the dry leaves amid the underwood on the meadow’s edge.”). See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Chewink (Rufous-sided Towhee)

The buds start, then the insects, then the birds. See April 23, 1852 ("Vegetation starts when the earth's axis is sufficiently inclined . . . . Man follows all, and all follow the sun.”)

A hawk skim straight and low over field and wood, and another the next day apparently dark slate-color. See April 27, 1860  ("I saw yesterday, and see to-day, a small hawk which I take to be a pigeon hawk. . . . I am decided by his size (as well as color) and his low, level skimming.."); May 4, 1855 (“Sitting in Abel Brooks’s Hollow, see a small hawk go over high in the air, with a long tail and distinct from wings. It advanced by a sort of limping flight yet rapidly, not circling nor tacking, but flapping briskly at intervals and then gliding straight ahead with rapidity, controlling itself with its tail. It seemed to be going a journey. Was it not the sharp-shinned, or Falco fuscus? 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.”) and note to July 21, 1858 (“It was the Falco fuscus, the American brown or slate-colored hawk”)  See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the sharp-shinned hawk. and  A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, The Pigeon Hawk (Merlin)

The first partridge drums.

April 25

Heard and saw my warbler (?) of the 23d and 24th on Mr. Emerson's  pines. It is the smallest bird I have seen this year. Sits still amid the pines not far below the top and sings very sweetly, loud and clear, and seems further off than it is, beginning first with very fine wiry notes and then increasing in volume and melody till it ends with tweeter tweeter tweeter ter twe. Some of it a martin-like warble. Has sometimes a harsh scolding note. 

It is all light, perhaps ashy-white, beneath; has a little narrow forked tail; ashy (?) under wings, which are considerably shorter than tail; and light above and below eye; perhaps a whitish bar on wings; olivaceous(?) above. 

I think it may be the golden-crested wren, though I hardly saw the upper parts, or possibly the small blue-gray flycatcher. 

I do not find the male blossoms of the red cedar open yet. 

P. M. — To Indian Cedar Hill. 

April 25, 2014

Quite warm and the frogs are snoring on the meadow. I swelter under my greatcoat.  

Many shad-flies in the air and alighting on my clothes. 

The summer approaches by almost insensibly increasing lieferungs of heat, each awakening some new bird or quadruped or reptile. 

At first we were compelled to take off our mittens, then to unbutton our greatcoat, and now, perhaps, to take it off occasionally (I have not left it at home yet), and wear thin boots. For some time we have done with little fire, nowadays let it go out in the afternoon. 

Each creature awaits with confidence its proper degree of heat.

The first partridge drums in one or two places, as if the earth's pulse now beat audibly with the increased flow of life. It slightly flutters all Nature and makes her heart palpitate. 

Saw a golden crested wren in the woods near Goose Pond. (This must be my warblers of April 18th, April 23d and 24th.) It sounded far off and like an imitation of a robin, (and of a golden robin, which later I often mistook for him) — a long strain and often repeated. 

I was quite near it before I was aware of it, it sounding still like a faint imitation of a robin. Some chickadees and yellow redpolls were first apparent, then my wren on the pitch pines and young oaks. 

He appeared curious to observe me. A very interesting and active little fellow, darting about amid the tree-tops, and his song quite remarkable and rich and loud for his size. 

Begins with a very fine note, before its pipes are filled, not audible at a little distance, then woriter weter, etc., etc., winding up with teter teter, all clear and round. His song is comical and reminds me of the thrasher. 

This was at 4 p. m., when most birds do not sing. I saw it yesterday, pluming itself and stretching its little wings. Our smallest bird, methinks, except the hummingbird.

As I stand listening for the wren, and sweltering in my greatcoat, I hear the woods filled with the hum of insects, as if my hearing were affected; and thus the summer's quire begins. The silent spaces have begun to be filled with notes of birds and insects and the peep and croak and snore of frogs, even as living green blades are everywhere pushing up amid the sere ones.

I heard that same snoring which I hear on the river meadows, on an inland meadow this afternoon, where I think no bullfrogs are. Are they not then the palustris, or else the shad frog? 

There are now many new insects in the air. 

Black ducks still on Flint's. 

The fertile fruit-stems of the sensitive fern by the side of the Flint's Pond path, more than a foot high, are a rich ornament to the ground, brown, four or five inches long, and turned to one side, contrasting with the lighter rachis (?). 

Saw my thrush of the 18th by the pond. It appears dark-olive, ferruginous on rump and tail, with a dark streak slanting from each cheek and flesh-colored legs. 

The red cedar has fairly begun to-day; maybe the first yesterday. Put the red yesterday and the white to-day. As I approach the red cedars now, I perceive a delicious strawberry-like fragrance in the air, like that from the arbor-vita. 

The creeping juniper apparently open, but not yet open. 

Though I see some amber on the sweet-fern, I am in doubt whether to say to-day or to-morrow. 

The wild red cherry (if that is one near Everett's), privet, and buckthorn are beginning to leaf out. 

The abele will probably blossom to-morrow. 

H. D. Thoreau,  Journal, April 25, 1854

The frogs are snoring on the meadow. See April 11, 1854 ("Hear a slight snoring of frogs on the bared meadows. Is it not the R. palustris?"); May 6, 1858 (“There was a universal snoring of the R. palustris all up and down the river on each side . . . and probably it began in earnest last evening on the river. It is a hard, dry, unmusical, fine watchman’s-rattle-like stertoration, swelling to a speedy conclusion, lasting say some four or five seconds usually . . . Each shore of the river now for its whole length is all alive with this stertorous purring. It is such a sound as I make in my throat when I imitate the growling of wild animals. I have heard a little of it at intervals for a week, in the warmest days, but now at night it [is] universal all along the river. If the note of the R. halecina, April 3d, was the first awakening of the river meadows, this is the second . . .Yet how few distinguished this sound at all, and I know not one who can tell what frog makes it, though it is almost as universal as the breeze itself.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Pickerel frog (Rana palustris) and A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The first frogs to begin calling

I swelter under my greatcoat. . . .(I have not left it at home yet) See April 26, 1854 (“It is now so warm that I go back to leave my greatcoat for the first time, and the cooler smell of possible rain is refreshing”; April 26, 1852 (“I begin now to leave off my greatcoat.”)

Many shad-flies in the air and alighting on my clothes. See May 1, 1854 (“The water is strewn with myriads of wrecked shad-flies, erect on the surface, with their wings up like so many schooners all headed one way.”);May 1, 1858 (“Ephemerae quite common over the water. ”); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Insect Hatches in Spring (millers, perla, shad-flies or ephemera)

Increasing lieferungs of heat, each awakening some new bird or quadruped or reptile. See April 6, 1860 (“Vegetation thus comes forward rather by fits and starts than by a steady progress. Some flowers would blossom tomorrow if it were as warm as to-day, but cold weather intervening may detain them a week or more. The spring thus advances and recedes repeatedly, — its pendulum oscillates, — while it is carried steadily forward. Animal life is to its extent subject to a similar law. It is in warm and calm days that most birds arrive and reptiles and insects and men come forth.”); April 7, 1860 (“This is the Rana halecina day, — awakening of the meadows, — though not very warm.. . .Probably, then, when it is about 50 at this season, the river being low, they are to be heard in calm places.”); April 9, 1856 (“It has probably been 70° or more; and the last two days have been nearly as warm. This degree of heat, then, brings the Fringilla juncorum and pine warbler and awakes the hyla. “) April 13, 1859 (“The hylodes and wood frogs are other degrees on the thermometer of the season, indicating that the weather has attained a higher temperature than before and winter fairly ended, but this note marks what you may call April heat (or spring heat).”);  May 6, 1858 (“I think that the different epochs in the revolution of the seasons may perhaps be best marked by the notes of reptiles. They express, as it were, the very feelings of the earth or nature. They are perfect thermometers, hygrometers, and barometers.”)

I hear the woods filled with the hum of insects, as if my hearing were affected; and thus the summer's quire begins. See  April 17, 1859 (“The air which was so lately void and silent begins to resound as it were with the breathing of a myriad fellow-creatures . . . gradually the spaces of the air are filled . . . we hear but little music in the world which charms us more than this sound produced by the vibration of an insect's wing and in some still and sunny nook in spring.”); April 28, 1860 ("I am advertised of the approach of a new season, as yesterday. The air is not only warmer and stiller, but has more of meaning or smothered voice to it, now that the hum of insects begins to be heard. You seem to have a great companion with you, are reassured by the scarcely audible hum, as if it were the noise of your own thinking”)

Even as living green blades are everywhere pushing up amid the sere ones. See April 25, 1859 ("I got to-day and yesterday the first decided impression of greenness beginning to prevail, summer-like . .. I am suddenly advertised that a new season has arrived.") See also April 14, 1854 ("There is a general tinge of green now discernible through the russet on the bared meadows and the hills, the green blades just peeping forth amid the withered ones."); April 23, 1854 ("How thickly the green blades are starting up amid the russet! "); April 24, 1859 (“From the amid the withered blades spring up ranks of green life like a fire . . . the renewal of life.”); April 28, 1854 ("Perhaps the greenness of the landscape may be said to begin fairly now . . . during the last half of April the earth acquires a distinct tinge of green, which finally prevails over the russet.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Brown Season

["Golden"- crested wren] .It is the smallest bird I have seen this year . . . Our smallest bird, methinks, except the hummingbird.  Note. Thoreau first misidentified the ruby-cowned as a warbler and also misidentiifed the ruby-crowned as the golden-crowned. He was put in doubt when he saw a red crest on what he had been calling the golden-crested wren, and did not truly identify a golden-crested wren until Christmas 1859. See note to December 25, 1859. See also See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: the ruby-crowned or crested wren.

This must be my warblers of April 18th, April 23d and 24th . . . I saw it yesterday. See April 18, 1854 ("Saw another warbler about the same size, in the same localities, somewhat creeper-like, very restless, more like the Tennessee warbler than any, methinks. Light-slate or bluish-slate head and shoulders, yellowish backward, all white beneath, and a distinct white spot on the wing; a harsh grating note[?]."); April 23, 1854 ("Had a glimpse of a very small warbler on a pitch pine, and heard a pleasant and unusual whistle from him."); April 24, 1854 ("Hear amid the white cedars the fine, clear singing warbler of yesterday, whose harsh note I may have heard the 18th, very clear and fast.")

 

Black ducks still on Flint's. See April 27, 1860 ("The hurry of the duck migration is, methinks, over"); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the American Black Duck

The fertile fruit-stems of the sensitive fern by the side of the Flint's Pond path, more than a foot high. See  May 13, 1860 ("The sensitive fern is only six inches high. — apparently the latest of all")

Saw my thrush of the 18th by the pond. See April 18, 1854 ("Was surprised to see a wagtail thrush. . . which inquisitively followed me along the shore over the snow, hopping quite near.")

Put the red yesterday and the white to-day. See April 24, 1854 ("The white cedar female blossoms are open."); see also  April 24, 1855  ("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." )

The abele will probably blossom to-morrow. See April 26, 1855 ("The silvery abele, probably to-day or yesterday, but I do not see pollen.")

The first partridge drums in one or two places, as if the earth's pulse now beat audibly with the increased flow of life. It slightly flutters all Nature and makes her heart palpitate. See April 19, 1860 ("Toward night, hear a partridge drum. You will hear at first a single beat or two far apart and have time to say, "There is a partridge," so distinct and deliberate is it often, before it becomes a rapid roll.");  April 29, 1857 ("A partridge there drums incessantly. C. says it makes his heart beat with it, or he feels it in his breast."); June 22, 1851("My pulse must beat with Nature”). See also A Book of Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Partridge.

April 25, 2014

The first partridge drums –

earth’s pulse now beats audibly

with the flow of life.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The first partridge drums

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 ©  2009-2024

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-540425

Go to new trees and you hear new birds.

April 24.

A. M. — Up railroad. 

The river slightly risen again owing to rain of yesterday morn and day before. As I stand still listening on the frosty sleepers at Wood's crossing by the lupines, I hear the loud and distinct pump-a-gor of a stake-driver. Thus he announces himself.

P. M. — Up Assabet, and thence to Cedar Swamp.

The first red maple blossoms — so very red over the water — are very interesting. 

The larch will apparently blossom in one or two days at least, both its low and broad purple-coned male flowers and its purple-tipped female cones.  

The white cedar female blossoms are open, and as the brown male ones are loosened the next day in the house, I think the 25th may be called their first day. 

Hear amid the white cedars the fine, clear singing warbler of yesterday, whose harsh note I may have heard the 18th, very clear and fast. 

April 24, 2022

Go to new trees, like cedars and firs, and you hear new birds.  They increase the strangeness. Also other strange plants are found there. I have also observed that the early birds are about the early trees, like maples, alders, willows, elms, etc.   

New plant (Racemed andromeda)  flower-budded at Cedar Swamp amid the high blueberry, panicled andromeda, clethra, etc.— upright dense racemes of reddish flower-buds on reddish terminal shoots. 

See a very large hawk, slaty above and white beneath, low over river. 

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.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 24, 1854

The river slightly risen again. See April 22, 1857 ("The river higher than before and rising.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, People do not remember so great a flood

The first red maple blossoms — so very red over the water — are very interesting See April 24, 1857 ("I see the now red crescents of the red maples in their prime . . . above the gray stems.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Red Maple

The larch will apparently blossom in one or two days. See May 1, 1854 ("The flowers of the larch which I examined on the 24th ult. have enlarged somewhat and may now certainly be considered in blossom, though the pollen is not quite distinct. I am not certain whether the 26th was not too early. The crimson scales of the female cones are still more conspicuous.") See also A Book of Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,the Larch

Cedar Swamp and white cedar female blossom See April 23, 1856 ("The white cedar swamp consists of hummocks, now surrounded by water, where you go jumping from one to another. The fans are now dotted with the minute reddish staminate flowers, ready to open”); April 24, 1855 ("The sprigs of red cedar, now full of the buff-colored staminate flowers, like fruit, are very rich . . . [Its pollen] is a clear buff color, while that of the white cedar is very different, being a faint salmon.”); April 26, 1856 ("The white cedar gathered the 23d does not shed pollen in house till to-day, and I doubt if it will in swamp before to-morrow."); April 26, 1857 ("The white cedar is apparently just out. The higher up the tree, the earlier")

Go to new trees. . . and you hear new birds. They increase the strangeness. Also other strange plants are found there. See June 9, 1854 ("What musicians compose our woodland quire? They must be forever strange and interesting to me.") See also April 16, 1856 ("By the discovery of one new plant all bounds seem to be infinitely removed."); May 29, 1856 ("Where you find a rare flower, expect to find more rare ones."); July 31, 1859 ("Where there are rare, wild, rank plants, there too some wild bird will be found.")

Singing warbler of yesterday, whose harsh note I may have heard the 18th. See April 18, 1854 ("More like the Tennessee warbler than any, methinks. Light-slate or bluish-slate head and shoulders, yellowish backward, all white beneath, and a distinct white spot on the wing; a harsh grating note[?]"); April 23, 1854 ("Had a glimpse of a very small warbler  on a pitch pine, and heard a pleasant and unusual whistle from him.")

New plant (Racemed andromeda) flower-budded. See June 3, 1857 (“The racemed andromeda (Leucothoe) has been partly killed, — the extremities of the twigs, — so that its racemes are imperfect.”);   June 8, 1856 (“I find no Andromeda racemosa in flower. It is dead at top and slightly leafed below. Was it the severe winter, or cutting off the protecting evergreens?”); June 10, 1857 ("The Leucothoe racemosa, not yet generally out, but a little (it being mostly killed) a day or two.")

The kingfisher flies with a crack cr-r-r-ack. See April 23, 1854 ("A kingfisher with his crack, — cr-r-r-rack"); April 25, 1852 ("Saw the first kingfisher, and heard his most unmusical note.")  and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. The Kingfisher

Now that he has come I suppose that the fishes on which he preys rise within reach. See April 23, 1852 ("Vegetation . . . follows the sun. Insects . . . follow vegetation. The fishes, the small fry, start probably for this reason . . . fish hawks, etc., follow the small fry;")

Go to new trees

like cedars and firs 

and you hear new birds.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Go to new trees and you hear new birds

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 ©  2009-2024

https://tinyurl.com/hdt570424

An eagle concealed, a ripple in the air.

April 23.

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

Rain yesterday and to-day; yet this morning the robin sings and the blackbirds and, in the yard, the tree sparrow, hyemalis, and song sparrow. A rain is sure to bring the tree sparrow and hyemalis to the gardens.

The first April showers are even fuller of promise and a certain moist serenity than the sunny days. How thickly the green blades are starting up amid the russet! The tinge of green is gradually increasing in the face of the russet earth.

April 23, 2022

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.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 23, 1854

A kingfisher with his crack, — cr-r-r-rack. See April 24, 1854 ("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.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. The Kingfisher

Rain yesterday and to-day . . . and, in the yard, the tree sparrow, hyemalis, and song sparrow. A rain is sure to bring the tree sparrow and hyemalis to the gardens. See April 23, 1859 (" Rain, rain.. . .The tree sparrows abundant and singing in the yard, but I have not noticed a hyemalis of late. The field sparrow sings in our yard in the rain") See also A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, Birds in the Rain

The tinge of green is gradually increasing in the face of the russet earth. See April 14, 1854 ("There is a general tinge of green now discernible through the russet on the bared meadows and the hills, the green blades just peeping forth amid the withered ones."); April 28, 1854 ("Perhaps the greenness of the landscape may be said to begin fairly now . . . During the last half of April the earth acquires a distinct tinge of green, which finally prevails over the russet."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Colors of March-- Brown Season

The white-headed eagle.  See April 8, 1854  (“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.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White-headed Eagle

The worth of my glass. See March 13, 1854 ("Bought a telescope to-day for eight dollars.")

April 23. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, April 23

White-headed eagle

edgewise like a black ripple

concealed in the sky.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, White-headed eagle concealed in the sky.

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 ©  2009-2024

tinyurl.com/hdt-540423