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

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

April 27.

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

Cold and windy, but fair. 

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

April 27, 1854

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

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

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

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

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

Cultivated cherry is beginning to leaf. 

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

Hear a partridge drum

 also golden-crested wren

before 6 A. M.

From red maple trunks

black and white creepers utter 

oven-bird-like notes.

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

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau 

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

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-550427

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

April 26

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A brown thrasher seen at a little distance.

April 26, 2025

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the robin sings

with more vigor and promise

this mizzling still day.

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

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau 

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

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-550426

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. 

April 25, 2023

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

The common wild rose to-morrow. See   June 13, 1853 (""The smooth wild rose yesterday.);  July 11, 1855 ("What a splendid show of wild roses, whose sweetness is mingled with the aroma of the bayberry!") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Wild Rose

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.")  see also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  the White-throated Sparrow

Hear the peculiar squeaking notes of a pigeon woodpecker. See April 23, 1852 (" Heard the pigeon woodpecker today, that long-continued unmusical note, somewhat like a robin's, heard afar, yet pleasant to hear because associated with a more advanced stage of the season"); April 23, 1855 ("Saw two pigeon woodpeckers approach and, I think, put their bills together and utter that o-week, o-week.") See also A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau, The Pigeon Woodpecker (flicker)

The bushes ringing with the evening song of song sparrows and robins See April  9, 1855 ("At sunset after the rain, the robins and song sparrows fill the air along the river with their song.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow (Fringilla melodia)

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

April 25.  See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April 25

Bushes ring with song –

evening sky reflected from

the rippled water.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The evening song of song sparrows and robins

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau

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

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-550425

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

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

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, See April 26, 1855 (“Going over Ponkawtasset, hear a golden-crested wren, — the robin’s note, etc., —in the tops of the high wood”); April 27, 1855 (“Few birds are heard this cold and windy morning. Hear a partridge drum before 6 A. M., also a golden-crested wren.”); May 6, 1855 ("Hear at a distance a ruby(?)-crowned wren,. . . I think this the only Regulus I have ever seen.”).  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 ; and so described by W[ilson], I should say, except that I saw its ruby crest. . . ..Have I seen the two?)”);  May 11, 1854 (“I am in a little doubt about the wrens (I do not refer to the snuff -colored one), whether I have seen more than one. All that makes me doubt is that I saw a ruby, or perhaps it might be called fiery, crest on the last — not golden.”); December 25, 1859 ("I can see a brilliant crown, evidently the golden-crested wren, which I have not made out before.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: the Ruby-crowned or crested wren. [Thoreau first misidentified the ruby-cowned as a warbler and also misidentified 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.]

That fine slaty-blue butterfly, bigger than the small red, in wood-paths. See April 19, 1860 ("See the small blue butterfly hovering over the dry leaves."); April 28, 1856 (“A fine little blue-slate butterfly fluttered over the chain. Even its feeble strength was required to fetch the year about. How daring, even rash, Nature appears, who sends out butterflies so early!”); April 30, 1859 ("That interesting small blue butterfly (size of small red) is apparently just out, fluttering over the warm dry oak leaves within the wood in the sun"); May 4, 1858 (“See a little blue butterfly (or moth) — saw one yesterday — fluttering about over the dry brown leaves in a warm place by the swamp-side, making a pleasant contrast. ”); See also  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The  Blue Butterfly in Spring; A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau, The Small Red Butterfly

I can find no red cedar in bloom, but it will undoubtedly shed pollen to-morrow. See April 25, 1854 ("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.")

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.")

The Salix alba begins to leaf. See April 27, 1854 ("The Salix alba begins to leaf, and the catkins are three quarters of an inch long.");   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."):  April 30, 1859 ("Salix alba leafing, or stipules a quarter of an inch wide; probably began a day or two.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Leaf-Out

Have not seen the F. hyemalis for a week.  See March 14 1858 ("I see a Fringilla hyemalis, the first bird, perchance . . .which is an evidence of spring . . . They are now getting back earlier than our permanent summer residents."); April 17, 1854 ("There are but few F. hyemalis about now; they appear to have gone north mostly on the advent of warmer weather about the 5th of April. "); April 17, 1855 ("I believe I see a tree sparrow still, but I do not remember an F. hyemalis for two days. ");  April 23, 1859 ("I have not noticed a hyemalis of late.");  May 4, 1855 ("See no gulls, nor F. hyemalis nor tree sparrows now."; )May 6, 1854 ("Is not that the true spring when the F. hyemalis and tree sparrows are with us singing in the cold mornings with the song sparrows, and ducks and gulls are about?") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: Signs of the Spring, the note of the dark-eyed junco going northward and  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco (Fringilla hyemalis)

That fine slaty-blue 

butterfly – bigger than the 

small red – in wood-paths. 

A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau, That fine slaty-blue butterfly in wood-paths.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau

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

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-550424