The first sight of the blue water in the spring.

April 5. 

The April weather still continues. It looks repeatedly as if the sun would shine, and it rains five minutes after. 

I look out to see how much the river has risen. Last night there were a great many portions or islets visible, now they are engulfed, and it is a smooth expanse of water and icy snow. The water has been steadily deepening on Concord meadows all night, rising with a dimple about every stem and bush. 

P. M. —- To North River at Tarbell’s. 

Fair weather again. See half a dozen blackbirds, uttering that sign-like note, on the top of Cheney’s elm, but notice no red at this distance. Were they grackles? 

Hear after some red-wings sing baby-lee. Do these ever make the sign—like note? Is not theirs a fine shrill whistle ? 

The ice from the sides of the rivers has wheeled round in great cakes and lodged against each of the railroad bridges, i. e. over each stream. Near the town there is the firmest body of ice (in the river proper) above Hubbard’s Bridge. 

A warm and pleasant afternoon. The river not yet so high by four or five feet as last winter. 

Hear, on all sunny hillsides where the snow is melted, the chink clicking notes of the F. hyemalis flitting before me. I am sitting on the dried grass on the south hillside be hind Tarbell’s house, on the way to Brown’s. These birds know where there is a warm hillside as well as we. 

The warble of the bluebird is in the air. 

From Tarbell’s bank we look over the bright moving flood of the Assabet with many maples standing in it, the purling and eddying stream, with a hundred rills of snow water trickling into it.  

Further toward J. P. Brown’s, see two large ant-hills (red before, black abdomens), quite covered on all the sunny portion with ants, which appear to have come forth quite recently and are removing obstructions from their portals. Probably the frost is quite out there. Their black abdomens glisten in the sun. Each is bringing up some rubbish from beneath. The outlines of one of these hills is a very regular cone; both are graceful curves. 

Come out upon the high terrace behind Hosmer’s, whence we overlook the bright-blue flood alternating with fields of ice (we being on the same side with the sun). The first sight of the blue water in the spring is exhilarating. 

See half a dozen white sheldrakes in the meadow, where Nut Meadow Brook is covered with the flood. There are two or three females with them. These ducks swim together first a little way to the right, then suddenly turn together and swim to the left, from time to time making the water fly in a white spray, apparently with a wing. Nearly half a mile off I see their green crests in the sun. They are partly concealed by some floating pieces of ice and snow, which they resemble. 

On the hill beyond Clamshell scare up two turtle doves. 

It is that walking when we must pick the hardest and highest ground or ice, for we commonly sink several inches in the oozy surface.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 5, 1856

Hear, on all sunny hillsides where the snow is melted, the chink clicking notes of the F. hyemalis flitting before me. See April 8, 1854 ("Methinks I do not see such great and lively flocks of hyemalis and tree sparrows in the morning since the warm days, the 4th, 5th, and 6th. Perchance after the warmer days, which bring out the frogs and butterflies, the alders and maples, the greater part of them leave for the north and give place to newcomers.")  See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco (Fringilla hyemalis)

The warble of the bluebird is in the air. See April 5, 1853 ("The bluebird comes to us bright in his vernal dress as a bridegroom."); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bluebird in Early Spring.

The first sight of the blue water in the spring is exhilarating. See March 5, 1854 ("and for the first time I see the water looking blue on the meadows."); March 12, 1854 ("A new feature is being added to the landscape, and that is expanses and reaches of blue water. "); April 3, 1853 ("Looking up the river yesterday, in a direction opposite to the sun, not long before it set, the water was of a rich, dark blue.");  April 4, 1855 ("All the earth is bright; the very pines glisten, and the water is a bright blue."); April 5, 1856 ("We overlook the bright-blue flood alternating with fields of ice (we being on the same side with the sun). The first sight of the blue water in the spring is exhilarating. "); April 9, 1856  ("The water on the meadows now, looking with the sun, is a far deeper and more exciting blue than the heavens. "); April 9, 1856 ("The water on the meadows now, looking with the sun, is a far deeper and more exciting blue than the heavens."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Blue Waters in Spring. 

See half a dozen white sheldrakes in the meadow, where Nut Meadow Brook is covered with the flood.  See April 7, 1855 ("In my walk in the afternoon of to-day, I see from Conantum, say fifty rods distant, two sheldrakes, male and probably female, sailing on A. Wheeler’s cranberry meadow. . . .I plainly see the vermilion bill of the male and his orange legs when he flies (but he appears all white above), and the reddish brown or sorrel of the neck of the female, and, when she lifts herself in the water, as it were preparatory to flight, her white breast and belly."); see also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Goosander, Merganser)