A large flock of crows on the dead white oak blown by a strong northwest wind.

October 6.

As I go over the hill, I see a large flock of crows on the dead white oak and on the ground under the living one.  I find the ground strewn with white oak acorns, and many of these have just been broken in two.

The crow, methinks, is our only large bird that hovers and circles about in flocks in an irregular and straggling manner, filling the air over your head and sporting in it as if at home here. They often burst up above the woods where they were perching, like the black fragments of a powder-mill just exploded.

One crow lingers on a limb of the dead oak till I am within a dozen rods. There is strong and blustering northwest wind, and when it launches off to follow its comrades it is blown up and backward still nearer to me. 

It is obliged to tack four or five times just like a vessel, first to the right, then to the left, before it can get off; for as often as it tries to fly directly forward against the wind, it is blown upward and backward within gunshot, and it only advances directly forward at last by stooping very low within a few feet of the ground where the trees keep off the wind.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 6, 1860

A large flock of crows. See September 22, 1860 ("See a large flock of crows.");September 29. September 29, 1854 (" A large flock of crows wandering about and cawing as usual at this season.") See also A Book of the Seasons: The American Crow.

A powder-mill just exploded. See January 7, 1853 ("I smelt the powder half a mile before I got there. Put the different buildings thirty rods apart, and then but one will blow up at a time.”); July 21, 1859 ("The canal is still cluttered with the wreck of the mills that have been blown up in times past.”)

Flocks of straggling crows

fill the air like black fragments

of an explosion.

Oct 6

Very cool.

Paid for board 3.00.

EDK, October 6, 1860

To Walden.

October 5. 

Rain, more or less, yesterday afternoon and this forenoon. The frosts have this year killed all of Stow's artichokes before one of them had blossomed, but those in Alcott's garden had bloomed probably a fortnight ago. About 4 P.M. it is fast clearing up, the clouds withdrawing, with a little dusky scud beyond their western edges against the blue.

We come out on the east shore of Walden. The water is tolerably smooth. The smooth parts are dark and dimpled by many rising fishes. Where it is rippled it is light-colored, and the surface thus presents three or four alternate light and dark bars.

I see a fish hawk, skimming low over it, suddenly dive for one of those little fishes that rise to the surface. He then sits on a bare limb over the water, ready to swoop down again on his finny prey, presenting, as he sits erect, a long white breast and belly and a white head. He can easily find a perch overlooking the lake and discern his prey in the clear water.

No doubt he well knows the habits of these little fishes which dimple the surface of Walden at this season, and I doubt if there is any better fishing-ground for him. 

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 5, 1860 

Oct 5

Rec'd from James Bliss 10.00 dollars on account.

Paid for boots 3.50.

EDK, October 5, 1860

Oct 4

Rec'd a letter from Laura. Wrote to father in the Eve.

EDK, October 4, 1860

A Wintry Prospect

October 1.

Remarkable frost and ice this morning; quite a wintry prospect. The leaves of trees stiff and white at 7 A.M.

I hear it was 21° this morning early. I do not remember such cold at this season.

This is about the full of the moon (it fulled at 9 P.M the 29th) in clear, bright moonlight nights. We have fine and bright but cold days after it.

One man tells me that he regretted that he had not taken his mittens with him when he went to his morning's work, - mowing in a meadow, - and when he went to a spring at 11 A. M., found the dipper with two inches of ice in it frozen solid.

Water was prepared for ice, and C. saw the first Vanessa Antiopa since spring.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 1, 1860 

Remarkable frost and ice this morning. See October 1, 1852 ("A severer frost last night.")

Water was prepared for ice . See November 11, 1858 (“Here, in the sun in the shelter of the wood, the smooth shallow water, with the stubble standing in it, is waiting for ice. Indeed, ice that formed last night must have recently melted in it. The sight of such water now reminds me of ice as much as water.”); November 29, 1853 ("It would be worth the while to watch some water while freezing. ")

C. saw the first Vanessa Antiopa since spring. See note to July 5, 1857 (" The caterpillars of the Vanessa Antiopa.”); October 3, 1860 ("See Vanessa Antiopa”); November 1,1860 (" The butterflies are out again, — probably some new broods. I see the common yellow and two Vanessa Antiopa,”) and A Book of the Seasons : The Buff-edged Butterfly by Henry Thoreau

Oct 1

The coldest morning of the season.

EDK, October 1, 1860