Tuesday.
To Boston and Cambridge.
Currant in garden, but ours
may be a late kind.
Purple finch still here.
Looking at the birds at the
Natural History Rooms, I find that I have not seen the crow blackbird at all
yet this season.
Perhaps I have seen the rusty-black bird, though I am not sure what those slaty-black ones are, as large
as the red-wings, nor those pure-black fellows, unless rusty blackbirds.
I think that my blackbirds
of the morning of the 24th may have been cowbirds.
Sat on end of Long Wharf.
Was surprised to observe that so many of the men on board the shipping were pure countrymen in dress and habits, and the seaport is no more than a country town to which they come a-trading. I found about the wharves, steering the coasters and unloading the ships, men in farmer's dress.
As I watched the various craft
successively unfurling their sails and getting to sea, I felt more than for
many years inclined to let the wind blow me also to other climes.
Harris showed me a list of plants in Hovey's Magazine (I think for '42 or '43) not in Bigelow's Botany, -- seventeen or eighteen of them, among the rest a pine I have not seen, etc., etc., q. v.
That early narrow curved-winged insect on ice and river which I thought an ephemera he says is a Sialis, or maybe rather a Perla. Thinks it the Donatia palmata I gave him. Says the shad-flies (with streamers and erect wings ) are ephemeræ.
He spoke of Podura nivalis, I think meaning ours.
Planted melons.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 9, 1854
I think that my blackbirds of the morning of the 24th may have been cowbirds. See April 24, 1854 ("Saw a black blackbird without red, with a purplish-green-black neck, and somewhat less than a red-wing, in company with two smaller slaty black females (?). Can they be rusty grackles?")
As I watched the various craft successively unfurling their sails and getting to sea, I felt more than for many years inclined to let the wind blow me also to other climes See December 25, 1853 ("When I go to Boston, I go naturally straight through the city down to the end of Long Wharf and look off"); November 5, 1859 ("Sat at the end of Long Wharf for coolness, but it was very warm, with scarcely a breath of wind, and so thick a haze that I could see but little way down the harbor.")
The first Indian-summer day, See November 1, 2015 ("A beautiful Indian-summer day, the most remarkable hitherto and equal to any of the kind. "); November 1, 1860 ("A perfect Indian-summer day, and wonderfully warm. 72+ at 1 P. M. and probably warmer at two.");November 6, 1857 ("Thermometer on north of the house 70° at 12 M. Indian summer.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The world can never be more beautiful than now.
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