A little duck in the middle of the Pond.

April 19.

5 A. M. — Up Assabet. 

Warm and still and somewhat cloudy. Am without greatcoat. 

The guns are firing and bells ringing. 

I hear a faint honk and, looking up, see going over the river, within fifty rods, thirty-two geese in the form of a hay-hook, only two in the hook, and they are at least six feet apart. Probably the whole line is twelve rods long. 

At least three hundred have passed over Concord, or rather within the breadth of a mile, this spring (perhaps twice as many); for I have seen or heard of a dozen flocks, and the two I counted had about thirty each. 

Many tortoises have their heads out. The river has fallen a little. Going up the Assabet, two or three tortoises roll down the steep bank with a rustle. One tumbles on its edge and rolls swiftly like a disk cast by a boy, with its back to me, from eight or ten feet into the water. 

I hear no concert of tree sparrows. Hear the tull-lull of the white-throated sparrow in street, and the jingle of the chip-bird. 

This forenoon, sit with open window. Now plowing and planting will begin generally. 

P. M. — To Walden.

Some golden willows will now just peel fairly, though on this one the buds have not started.  (Another sudden change in the wind to northeast and a freshness with some mist from the sea at 3.30 P. M.) These osiers to my eye have only a little more liquid green than a month ago. 

A shad frog on the dry grass. The wild red cherry will begin to leaf to-morrow. 

From Heywood’s Peak I think I see the head of a loon in the pond, thirty-five or forty rods distant. Bringing my glass to bear, it seems sunk very low in the water, — all the neck concealed, — but I can not tell which end was the bill. 

At length I discover that it is the whole body of a little duck, asleep with its head in its back, exactly in the middle of the pond. 

It has a moderate-sized black head and neck, a white breast, and seems dark-brown above, with a white spot on the side of the head, not reaching to the out side, from base of mandibles, and another, perhaps, on the end of the wing, with some black there. 

It sits drifting round a little, but with ever its breast toward the wind, and from time to time it raises its head and looks round to see if it is safe. 

I think it is the smallest duck I ever saw. Floating buoyantly asleep on the middle of Walden Pond. 

Is it not a female of the buffle-headed or spirit duck?

I believed the wings looked blacker when it flew, with some white beneath. It floated like a little casket, and at first I doubted a good while if it possessed life, until I saw it raise its head and look around. It chose a place for its nap exactly equidistant between the two shores there, and, with its breast to the wind, swung round only as much as a vessel held by its anchors in the stream. At length the cars scared it. 

Goodwin caught twenty-five pouts and one shiner at the Walden meadow, but no perch. 

Slippery elm in tumbler to-day; probably to-morrow at Cliffs.

A partridge drums.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 19, 1855

The guns are firing and bells ringing. See April 19, 1852 ("The guns were fired and the bells rung to commemorate the anniversary of the birth of a nation's liberty. ")

At least three hundred have passed over Concord this spring. See April 19, 1852 ("How many there must be, that one or more flocks are seen to go over almost every farm in New England in the spring.”) See also April 8, 1855 (“This evening, about 9 P.M., I hear geese go over, now there in the south, now southeast, now east, now northeast, low over the village, but not seen. The first I have heard.”); April 9, 1855 ("Several flocks of geese went over this morning also. Now, then, the main body are moving. Now first are they generally seen and heard.”); April 17, 1855 ("Geese go over at noon, when warm and sunny. “); Also see A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: Signs of Spring, Geese Overhead

Buffle headed or spirit duck. See January 7, 1853 ("He shows me the spirit duck of the Indians, of which Peabody says the Indians call it by a word meaning spirit, "because of the wonderful quickness with which it disappears at the twang of a bow." "); April 22, 1861 (" [Mann]obtained to-day the buffle-headed duck, diving in the river near the Nine-Acre Corner bridge. I identify it at sight as my bird seen on Walden. ") See also J J Audubon (The bufflehead, being known in different districts by the names of Spirit Duck, Butter-box, Marrionette, Dipper, and Die-dipper,") Compare December 14, 1854 ("At our old bathing-place on the Assabet, saw two ducks, which at length took to wing. They had large dark heads, dark wings, and clear white breasts. I think they were buffle-headed or spirit ducks. ") December 26, 1853 ("Saw in [Walden] a small diver, probably a grebe or dobchick, dipper, or what-not, ... It had a black head, a white ring about its neck, a white breast, black back, and apparently no tail.”); September 27, 1860 ("[The little dipper] has a dark bill and considerable white on the sides of the head or neck, with black between it, no tufts, and no observable white on back or tail.") See alsoA Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Little Dipper

)

Some golden willows will now just peel fairly. See April 19, 1853 ("Willow and bass strip freely."); see also April 9, 1855 ("The golden willow is, methinks, a little livelier green and begins to peel a little"); April 18, 1860 ("The Salix discolor peels well; also the aspen (early) has begun to peel. ")

Another sudden change in the wind to northeast and a freshness with some mist from the sea at 3.30 P. M. See April 18, 1855 ("I see suddenly all the southern horizon . . full of a mist, like a dust, already concealing the Lincoln hills and producing distinct wreaths of vapor, the rest of the horizon being clear. Evidently a sea-turn, — a wind from over the sea, condensing the moisture in our warm atmosphere and putting another aspect on the face of things."); April 29, 1856 (" 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.")

A partridge drums. See April 19, 1860 ('"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."); See also April 25, 1854 ("The first partridge drums in one or two places, as if the earth's pulse now beat audibly with the increased flow of life.”). and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau  The Partridge.

April 19, 2015