There, along with me in the deep, wild swamp, above the andromeda, amid the spruce.

MAY 17, 2016

May 17. Rain still or lowering. 

P. M. —To my boat at Cardinal Shore, thence to Lee’s Cliff.

Kingbird. 

The beech twigs I gathered the 15th show anthers to-day in chamber; so it probably blossoms to-day or to-morrow in woods. 

Vaccinium vacillans apparently a day or two at least.

Veronica serpylléfolia abundant now on banks, erected. 

Maryland yellow throat heard afar in meadows, as I go along the road towards Hubbard’s Bridge. 

It is warm, but still overcast and sprinkling occasionally, near the end of the rain, and the birds are very lively. A goldfinch twitters over. 

In the dry lupine bank pasture, about fifteen rods from the river, apparently travelling up the hill, I see a box tortoise, the first I have found in Concord. 

Beside being longer (its upper shell five and one half by four and one fourth inches), it is much flatter and more oblong, less oval, than the one I found on Cape Cod last July. Especially it is conspicuously broader and flatter forward. The two rear marginal plates have a triangular sinus between them while the Cape Cod ones come to a point.The fifth and sixth marginal plates do not project by their edges beyond the shell.

The yellow marks are much narrower, and more interrupted and like Oriental characters, than in the Cape Cod one. The sternum also is less oval, uniformly blackish-brown except a few slight bone-[?] or horn-colored blotches, while the Cape Cod one is light yellow with a few brown blotches. The scales of the sternum in this are much less sharp-angled than in the Cape Cod one. The sternum more hollow or depressed. 

The tail about three eighths of an inch long only, beyond the anus (?). The bill is very upright:  A beak like any Caesar's. Forelegs covered  with orange-colored scales. Hind ones mostly brown or bronze with a few orange spots. 

Beside the usual hiss, uttered in the evening as I was carrying it, a single, as it were involuntary, squeak much like a croaking frog. Iris, bright light red, or rather vermilion, remarkable. Head, brown above with yellow spots; orange beneath and neck. 

The river is about a foot lower than on the 13th, notwithstanding yesterday’s and to-day’s rain. At the Kalmia Swamp, see and hear the redstart, very lively and restless, flirting and spreading its reddish tail. 

The sylvias — S. Americana and redstart and summer yellowbird, etc. — are very lively there now after the rain, in the warm, moist air, amid the hoary bursting buds of maples, oaks, etc. 

I stand close on the edge of the swamp, looking for the kalmia. Nothing of its flower to be seen yet. The rhodora there will open in a day or two. 

Meanwhile I hear a loud hum and see a splendid male hummingbird coming zigzag in long tacks, like a bee, but far swifter, along the edge of the swamp, in hot haste. He turns aside to taste the honey of the Andromeda calyculata (already visited by bees) within a rod of me. This golden-green gem. Its burnished back looks as if covered with green scales dusted with gold. It hovers, as it were stationary in the air, with an intense humming before each little flower-bell of the humble Andromeda calyculata, and inserts its long tongue in each, turning toward me that splendid ruby on its breast, that glowing ruby. Even this is coal-black in some lights! 

There, along with me in the deep, wild swamp, above the andromeda, amid the spruce. Its hum was heard afar at first, like that of a large bee, bringing a larger summer. This sight and sound would make me think I was in the tropics, —in Demerara or Maracaibo. [Another on our cherry blossoms the next day. A long, slender black bill.]

Nemopanthes on that very swamp-edge. Vaccinium corymbosum (?) or the high blueberry. 

Hear the first veery note and doubtless the Muscicapa olivacea. 

The Sylvia Americana (parti-colored warbler, etc.) is very numerous there, darting about amid the hoary buds of the maples and oaks, etc. It seems the most restless of all birds, blue more or less deep above, with yellow dust on the back, yellow breast, and white beneath (the male with bright—orange throat, and some with a rufous crescent on breast); wings and tail, dark, black, with two white bars or marks, dark bill and legs. 

At Lee’s the Turritis stricta pods three inches long, and plant two and a half feet high by measure. Get some to press. Myosotis stricta above there, maybe several days. Ranunculus bulbosils a day or two at least. Arenaria serpyllifolia. 

Mrs. Ripley showed me, from her son Gore in Minnesota, a few days ago, the first spring flower of the prairie there, a hairy-stemmed, slender-divisioned, and hairy-involucred, six-petalled blue flower, probably a species of hepatica. No leaves with it. Not described in Gray. 

Yellow columbine well out at Lee’s, one rod from rock, one rod east of ash. 

How plainly we are a part of nature! For we live like the animals around us. All day the cow is cropping the grass of yonder meadow, appropriating, as it were, a part of the solid earth into herself, except when she rests and chews the end; and from time to time she wends her way to the river and fills her belly with that. Her food and drink are not scarce and precious, but the commonest elements of which nature is composed. The dry land in these latitudes, except in woods and deserts, is almost universally clothed with her food, and there are inland seas, ready mixed, of the wine that she loves. The Mississippi is her drink, the prairie grass her food.

The shrub oak and some other oak leafets, just expanding, now begin to be pretty. 

Within the shell of my box turtle, in the cavity be tween its thighs and its body, were small dry leaves and seeds, showing where it laid. From these I should say it had come from amidst the alders.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 17, 1856

. . . A splendid male hummingbird coming zigzag. . . bringing a larger summer. . . See May 16, 1852 ("I hear a hummingbird about the columbines.");  May 15, 1855 ("Hear a hummingbird in the garden.");May 16, 1858 ("A hummingbird yesterday came into the next house and was caught.")

Kingbird. . . . Maryland yellow throat heard afar in meadows . . .Hear the first veery note and doubtless the Muscicapa olivacea. See May 17, 1860; ("By Sam Barrett's meadow-side I see a female Maryland yellow-throat busily seeking its food amid the dangling fruit of the early aspen, in the top of the tree.");  May 10, 1853 (" New days, then, have come, ushered in by the warbling vireo, yellowbird, Maryland yellow-throat, and small pewee, and now made perfect by the twittering of the kingbird . . . and, in the woods, the veery note."); May 18, 1855 ("First veery strain."); May 23, 1857 ("Hear the first veery strain.")


The Muscicapa olivacea or  Red-eyed Flycatcher a/k/a Red-eyed Vireo (Vireo olivaceus.)