16 April 1855 – 22 April 1855

5 a.m.— To Hill.

5 a. m.— Up Assabet. Very little frost; a clear morning. ‘The oars still cold to the hand at this hour. Did I not hear an F. juncorum at a distance??' Saw some crow blackbirds inspecting that old nest of theirs. I believe I see a tree sparrow still, but I do not remember an F. hy- emalis for two days.” Geese went over at noon, when warm and sunny. P. M. — To Lee’s Cliff. I leave off my greatcoat, though the wind rises rather fresh before I return. It is worth the while to walk so free and light, having got off both boots and greatcoat. Great flocks of grackles and red-wings about the Swamp Bridge Brook willows, perching restlessly on an apple tree all at once, and then, with a sweeping ? Yes. ? Vide 18th.

6 a. m.—See and hear tree sparrows, and hear hyemalis still. Rained last evening and was very dark. Fair this morning and warm. White-bellied swallow’s and martin’s twitter now at 9 A. M. P. M. — To Cliffs and Walden and Hubbard’s Close. The hillside and especially low bank-sides are now conspicuously green. Almost did without a fire this morning. Coming out, I find it very warm, warmer than yesterday or any day yet. It is a reminiscence of past summers. It is perfectly still and almost sultry, with wet-looking clouds hanging about, and from time to time hiding the sun. First weather of this kind. And as I sit on Fair Haven Hill-side, the sun actually burns my cheek; yet I left some fire in the house, not know- ing behind a window how warm it was. The flooded meadows and river are smooth, and just enough in shadow for reflections. The rush sparrows tinkle now at 3 p. mM. far over the bushes, and hylodes are * Yes. peeping in a distant pool. Robins are singing and peeping, and jays are screaming. I see one or two smokes in the horizon. I can still see the mountains slightly spotted with snow. The frost is out enough for plowing probably in most open ground. When I reach the top of the hill, I see suddenly all the southern horizon (east or south from Bear Hill in Waltham to the river) 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 at- mosphere and putting another aspect on the face of things. All this I see and say long before I feel the change, while still sweltering on the rocks, for the heat was oppressive. Nature cannot abide this sudden heat, but calls for her fan. In ten minutes I hear a susurrus in the shrub oak leaves at a distance, and soon an agreeable fresh air washes these warm rocks, and some mist surrounds me. A low blackberry on the rocks is now expanding its leaves just after the gooseberry. A little sallow, about two feet high and apparently intermediate be- tween tristis and the next, with reddish anthers not yet burst, will bloom to-morrow in Well Meadow Path. The shad-bush flower-buds, beginning to expand, look like leaf-buds bursting now. Male sweet-gale. One cowslip fully expanded, but no pollen; probably is at Second Division. Some are plowing. Am overtaken t Some fully open May 4th, but no pollen till next morning in chamber ! !

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 myrtle-bird ' 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. Mm.) 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 thought I saw the head of a loon in the pond, thirty-five or forty rods distant. Bringing my glass to bear, it seemed sunk very low in the water, — all the neck concealed, — but I could not tell which end was the bill. At length I discovered that it was the whole body of a little duck, asleep with its head in its back, exactly in the middle of the pond. It had a moderate-sized black head and neck, a white breast, and seemed 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 sat drifting round a little, but with ever its breast toward the wind, and from time to time it raised its head and looked round to see if it were safe. I think it was the smallest duck I ever saw. Floating buoyantly asleep on the middle of Walden Pond. Was 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 had chosen 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 had 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.

Rains all day, taking out the frost and imprisoning me. You cannot set a post yet on account of frost.

5 a. M.— To Cliffs. Fair and still. There is a fog over the river, which shows at a distance more than near by. Not much. The frost conceals the green of the gooseberry leaves just expanding. The shallow puddles left by yester- day’s rain in the fields are skimmed over. Hear the first seringo. ‘The duskyish crown is di- vided by a lighter line. Above it is ashy-brown and drab (?), a streak of lemon yellow over the eye; some brownish drab or bay making a spot on wings; white lines diverging from throat; reddish legs against sun; breast and sides dashed. It has not the note of Nuttall’s Savannah, nor, methinks, the blackness of Wilson’s. Is it the passerina, which Nuttall does not describe ? ! At Cliffs, I hear at a distance a wood thrush.’ It affects us as a part of our unfallen selves. The Populus grandidentata there may open to-morrow. ‘The frost saves my feet a wetting probably. As I sit on the Cliffs, the sound of the frost and frozen drops melting and falling on the leaves in the woods below sounds [s7c] like a gentle but steady rain all the country over, while the sun shines clear above all. Aunt Maria has put into my hands to-day for safe- keeping three letters from Peter Thoreau, dated Jersey (the first July Ist, 1801, the second April 22d, 1804, and the third April 11th, 1806) and directed to his niece “Miss Elizabeth Thoreau, Concord, Near Bos- ton,” etc.; also a “ Vue de la Ville de St. Helier,” etc., accompanying the first. She is not certain that any more were received from him. The first is in answer to one from Elizabeth announ- cing the death of her father (my grandfather). He states that his mother died the 26th of June, 1801, — the day before he received E.’s letter, — though not till after he had heard from another source of the death of his brother, which was not communicated to his mother. “She was in the 79th year of her age, and retained her memory to the last. . . . She lived with my two sisters, who took the greatest care of her.”’ He says that he had written to E.’s father about his oldest brother, who died about a year before, but had north to breed. [It would be hard to describe the grasshopper spar- row’s song more inaccurately.]

5.30 a. mM. — To Assabet stone bridge. Tree sparrows still. See a song sparrow getting its | breakfast in the water on the meadow like a wader. Red maple yesterday, — an early one by further stone bridge. Balm-of-Gilead probably to-morrow. The black currant is just begun to expand leaf — prob- ably yesterday elsewhere —a little earlier than the red. Though my hands are cold this morning I have not worn gloves for a few mornings past, — a week or ten days. The grass is now become rapidly green by the sides of the road, promising dandelions and butter- cups. P. M. — To Lee’s Cliff. Fair, but windy. Tree sparrows about with their buntingish head and faint chirp. The leaves of the skunk-cabbage, unfolding in the meadows, make more show than any green yet. The yellow willow catkins pushing out begin to give the trees a misty, downy appearance, dimming them. The bluish band on the breast of the kingfisher leaves the pure white beneath in the form of a heart. The blossoms of the sweet-gale are now on fire over the brooks, contorted like caterpillars. The female flowers also out like the hazel, with more stigmas, —out at same time with the male. I first noticed my little mud turtles in the cel- lar out of their [szc], one of them, some eight days ago. I suspect those in the river begin to stir about that time ? Antennaria probably yesterday, Skull-cap Meadow Ditch. Many yellow redpolls on the willows now. They jerk their tails constantly like phoebes, but I hear only a faint chip. Could that have been a female with them, with an ash head and merely a yellow spot on each side of body, white beneath (?), and forked tail?! Red- stemmed moss now. Goosanders, male and female. They rise and fly, the female leading. They after- ward show that they can get out of sight about as well by diving as by flying. At a distance you see only the male, alternately diving and sailing, when the female may be all the while by his side. Getting over the wall under the middle Conantum Cliff, I heard a loud and piercingly sharp whistle of two notes, — phe- phe, like a peep somewhat. Could it have been a wood- chuck? Heard afterward under Lee’s Cliff a similar fainter one, which at one time appeared to come from a pigeon woodpecker. Cowbirds on an apple tree. Crowfoot on Cliff. Johnswort radical leaves have grown several inches and angelica shows.