7 April 1856 – 13 April 1856

1». mM. — To boat at Cardinal Shore, and thence to Well Meadow and back to port. Another very pleasant and warm day. The white- bellied swallows have paid us twittering visits the last three mornings. You must rush out quickly to see them, for they are at once gone again. Warm enough to do without greatcoat to-day and yesterday, though I carry it and put it on when I leave the boat. Hear the crack of Goodwin’s piece close by, just as I reach my boat. He has killed another rat. Asks if IT am bound up-stream. “Yes, to Well Meadow.” Says I can’t get above the hay-path a quarter of a mile above on account of ice; if he could, he’d ’a’ been at Well Meadow before now. But I think I will try, and he thinks if I succeed he will try it. By standing on oars, which sink several inches, and hauling over one cake of ice, I manage to break my way into an open canal above, where I soon see three rats swimming. Good- win says that he got twenty-four minks last winter, more than ever before in one season; trapped most, shot only two or three. From opposite Bittern Cliff, I pushed along, with more or less difficulty, to Well Meadow Brook. There was a water passage ten feet wide, where the river had risen beyond the edge of the ice, but not more than four or five feet was clear of the bushes and trees. By the side of Fair Haven Pond it was particularly narrow. I shoved the ice on the one hand and the bushes and trees on the other all the way. Nor was the passage much wider below, as far back as where I had taken my boat. For all this distance, the river for the most part, as well as all the pond, was an un- broken field of ice. I went winding my way and scraping between the maples. Half a dozen rods off on the ice, you would not have supposed that there was room for a boat there. In some places you could have got on to the ice from the shore without much difficulty. But all of Well Meadow was free of ice, and I paddled up to within a rod or two of where I found the cowslips so forward on the 2d. It is difficult pushing a boat over the meadows now, for even where the bottom is not covered with slippery snow ice which affords no hold to the pad- dle, the meadow is frozen and icy hard, for it thaws slowly under water. This meadow is completely open, because none of the snow ice has risen up. Sometimes you see a small piece that has been released come up suddenly, with such force as to lift it partly out of water, but, sinking again at once, it looks like a sah drake which has dived at a distance. There, in that slow, muddy brook near the head of Well Meadow, within a few rods of its source, where it winds amid the alders, which shelter the plants some- what, while they are open enough now to admit the sun, I find two cowslips in full bloom, shedding pollen; and they may have opened two or three days ago; for I saw many conspicuous buds here on the 2d which now I do not see. Have they not been eaten off? Do we not often lose the earliest flowers thus? A little more, or if the river had risen as high as frequently, they would have been submerged. What an arctic voyage was this in which I find cowslips, the pond and river still frozen over for the most part as far down as Cardinal Shore! Saw two marsh hawks this afternoon, circling low over the meadows along the water’s edge. This shows that frogs must be out. Goodwin and Puffer both fired at one from William Wheeler’s shore. They say they made him duck and disturbed his feathers some. The muskrats are now very fat. They are reddish-brown beneath and dark-brown above. I see not a duck in all this voyage. Perhaps they are moving forward this bright and warm day. Was obliged to come down as far as Nut Meadow (being on the west side), before I could clear the ice, ~ and, setting my sail, tack across the meadow for home, the wind northwesterly. The river is still higher than yesterday. About 8.30 p. m., hear geese passing quite low over the river. - | Found beneath the surface, on the sphagnum, near the cowslips, a collection of little hard nuts with wrinkled shells, a little hke nutmegs, perhaps bass nuts, collected after a freshet by mice! I noticed that the fibres of the alder roots in the same place were thickly [sic] with little yellow knubby fruit. Was not that clear light- brown snail in that sphagnum a different species from the common one in brooks? See a few cranberries and smell muskrats. On the Fair Haven Cliff, crowfoot and saxifrage are very backward. ‘That dense-growing moss on the rocks shows now a level surface of pretty crimson cups. Noticed, returning, this afternoon, a muskrat sitting on the ice near a small hole in Willow Bay, so motionless and withal round and featureless, of so uniform a color, that half a dozen rods off I should not have detected him if not accustomed to observing them. Saw the same thing yesterday. It reminds me of the truth of the In- dian’s name for it, — “that sits in a round form on the ice.” You would think it was a particularly round clod of meadow rising above the ice. But while you look, it concludes its meditations or perchance its meal, and deliberately takes itself off through a hole at its feet, and you see no more of it. I noticed five muskrats this afternoon without looking for them very carefully. Four were swimming in the usual manner, showing the ver- tical tail, and plunging with a half-somerset suddenly before my boat. While you are looking, these brown clods slide off the edge of the ice, and it is left bare. You would think that so large an animal, sitting right out upon the ice, would be sure to be seen or detected, but not so. A citizen might paddle within two rods and not suspect them. Most countrymen might paddle five miles along the river now and not see one musk- rat, while a sportsman a quarter of a mile before or behind would be shooting one or more every five min- utes. The other, left to himself, might not be able to guess what he was firing at. The marsh hawks flew in their usual irregular low tacking, wheeling, and circling flight, leisurely flapping and beating, now rising, now falling, in conformity with the contour of the ground. The last I think I have seen on the same beat in former years. He and his race must be well acquainted with the Musketicook and its meadows. No sooner is the snow off than he is back to his old haunts, scouring that part of the mead- ows that is bare, while the rest is melting. If he re- turns from so far to these meadows, shall the sons of Concord be leaving them at this season for slight cause ? River had risen so since yesterday I could not. get under the bridge, but was obliged to find a round stick and roll my boat over the road. April9. Wednesday. Another fine day. 7 A. M.— To Trillium Woods. Air full of birds. The line I have measured west of railroad is now just bare of snow, though a broad and deep bank of it lies between that line and the railroad. East of railroad has been bare some time. The line in Trillium Woods is apparently just bare also. There is just about as much snow in these woods now as in the meadows and fields around generally; 2. e., it is con- fined to the coldest sides, as in them. There is not so much as on the east side of Lee’s Hill. It is toward the north and east sides of the wood. Hence, apparently, in a level wood of this character the snow lies no longer than in adjacent fields divided by fences, etc., or even without them. The air is full of birds, and as I go down the cause- way, I distinguish the seringo note. You have only to come forth each morning to be surely advertised of each newcomer into these broad meadows. Many a larger animal might be concealed, but a cunning ear detects the arrival of each new species of bird. These birds give evidence that they prefer the fields of New England to all other climes, deserting for them the warm and fertile south. Here is their paradise. It is here they express the most happiness by song and action. ‘Though these spring mornings may often be frosty and rude, they are exactly tempered to their constitutions, and call forth the sweetest strains. The yellow birch sap has flowed abundantly, probably before the white birch. 8 a. mM. — By boat to V. palmata' Swamp for white birch sap.

Thursday. Fast-Day. — Some fields are dried sufficiently for the games of ball with which this season iscommonly ushered in. Lassociate this day, when I can remember it, with gantes of baseball played over behind the hills in the russet fields toward Sleepy Hol- low, where the snow was just melted and dried up, and also with the uncertainty I always experienced whether the shops would be shut, whether we should have an ordinary dinner, an extraordinary one, or none at all, and whether there would be more than one service at the meeting-house. This last uncertainty old folks share with me. This is a windy day, drying up the fields; the first we have had for a long time. Therien describes to me the diagonal notch he used to cut in maples and birches (not having heard of boring) and the half-round spout, cut out of chestnut or other straight-grained wood with a half-round chisel, sharped and driven into a new-moon cut made by the same tool partly sidewise to the tree. This evidently injured the trees more than the auger. He says they used to boil the birch down to a syrup, and he thought that the black birch would run more than any tree. P. M. —TI set out to sail, the wind northwest, but it is so strong, and I so feeble, that I gave it up. The waves dashed over into the boat and with their sprin- klng wet me half through in a few moments. Our meadow looks as angry now as it ever can. I reach my port, and go to Trillium Wood to get yellow birch sap. The Deep Cut is full of dust. This wind, unlike yesterday’s, has a decidedly cold vein in it. The ditch by Trillium Wood is strewn with yellowish hemlock leaves, which are still falling. In the still warmer and broader continuation of this ditch, south of the wood, in the southwest recess, I see three or four frogs jump in, some probably large Rana palustris, others quite small. They are in before I see them plainly, and bury themselves in the mud before I can distinguish them clearly. They were evidently sitting in the sun by that leafy ditch in that still and warm nook. Let them be- ware of marsh hawks. I saw also four yellow-spot tor- toises paddling about under the leaves on the bottom there. Once they were all together. This ditch is com- monly dry in the summer. The yellow birch sap runs very fast. I set three spouts in a tree one foot in diameter, and hung on a quart pail; then went to look at the golden saxifrage in Hubbard’s Close. When I came back, the pail was running over. This was about 3 p. mM. Each spout dropped about as fast as my pulse, but when [I left, at 4 Pp. M., it was not dropping so fast. The red maples here do not run at all now, nor did they yesterday. Yet one up the Assabet did yesterday. Apparently the early maples have ceased to run. : We may now say that the ground is bare, though we still see a few patches or banks of snow on the hillsides at a distance, especially on the northeast sides of hills. You see much more snow looking west than looking east. Thus does this remarkable winter disappear at last. Here and there its veteran snow-banks spot the russet landscapes. In the shade of walls and north hillsides and cool hollows in the woods, it is panting its life away. I look with more than usual respect, if not with regret, on its last dissolving traces. Is not that a jungermannia which so adorns the golden epidermis of the yellow birch with its fine fin- gers ? I boil down about two quarts of this yellow birch sap to two teaspoonfuls of a smart-tasting syrup. I stopped there; else should have boiled it all away. A slightly medicinal taste, yet not disagreeable to me. It yields but little sugar, then.

8.30 a.m. — To Tarbell’s to get black and canoe birch sap. Going up the railroad, I see a male and female rusty grackle alight on an oak near me, the latter appar- ently a flaxen brown, with a black tail. She looks like a different species of bird. Wilson had heard only a tchuck from the grackle, but this male, who was court- ing his mate, broke into incipient warbles, like a bubble burst as soon as it came to the surface, it was so aerated. Its air would not be fixed long enough. Set two spouts in a canoe birch fifteen inches [in] diam- eter, and two in a black birch two feet plus in diameter. Saw a kingfisher on a tree over the water. Does not its arrival mark some new movement in its finny prey? He is the bright buoy that betrays it! And hear in the old place, the pitch pine grove on the bank by the river, the pleasant ringing note of the pine warbler. Its a-che, aitter vitter, vitter vitter, vitier vitter, vitter vitter, vet rings through the open pine grove very rapidly. I also heard it at the old place by the railroad, as I came along. It is remarkable that I have so often heard it first in these two localities, 7. e. where the railroad skirts the north edge of a small swamp densely filled with tall old white pines and a few white oaks, and in a young grove composed wholly of pitch pines on the otherwise bare, very high and level bank of the Assabet. When the season is advanced enough, I am pretty sure to hear its ringing note in both those places. The hazel sheds pollen to-day; some elsewhere pos- sibly yesterday. ‘The sallow up railroad will, if it 1s pleasant, to-morrow.’ When I cut or break white pine twigs now, the turpentine exudes copiously from the bark, even from twigs broken off in the fall and now freshly broken, clear as water, or crystal. How early did it? The canoe birch sap flowed rather the fastest. I have now got four kinds of birch sap. That of the white birch is a little tinged brown, apparently by the bark; the others are colorless as water. I am struck by the coolness of the sap, though the weather may be warm. Like wild apples, it must be tasted in the fields, and then it has a very slightly sweetish and acid taste, and cool as iced water. I do not think I could distinguish the different kinds of birch with my eyes shut. I drank some of the black birch wine with my dinner for the name of it; but, as a steady drink, it is only to be re- commended to outdoor men and foresters. Now is apparently the very time to tap birches of all kinds. I saved a bottleful each of the white, canoe; and black birch sap (the yellow I boiled), and, in twenty-four hours, they had all three acquired a slight brown tinge. but the white birch the most brown. They were at first colorless. On the whole, I have not observed so much difference in the amount of sap flowing from the six kinds of trees which I have tapped as I have observed between different trees of the same kind, de- pending on position and size, etc. This flowing of the sap under the dull rinds of the trees is a tide which few suspect. Though the snow melted so much sooner on the east side of the railroad causeway than on the west, I notice that it still lies in a broad, deep bank on the east side of Cheney’s row of arbor-vite, while the ground is quite bare on the west. Whence this difference ? A few more hylas peep to-day, though it is not so warm as the 9th. These warm pleasant days I see very few ducks about, though the river is high. The current of the Assabet is so much swifter, and its channel so much steeper than that of the main stream, that, while a stranger frequently cannot tell which way the latter flows by his eye, you can perceive the declina- tion of the channel of the former within a very short dis- tance, even between one side of a tree and another. You perceive the waters heaped on the upper side of rocks and trees, and even twigs that trail in the stream. Saw a pickerel washed up, with a wound near its tail, dead a week at least. Was it killed by a fish hawk? Its oil, when disturbed, smoothed the surface of the water with splendid colors. Thus close ever is the fair to the foul. The iridescent, oily surface. The same object is ugly or beautiful, according to the angle from which you view it. Here, also, in the river wreck is the never-fail- ing teazle, telling of the factory above, and sawdust from the mill. The teased river! These I do not notice on the South Branch. I hear of one field plowed and harrowed, — George Heywood’s. Frost out there earlier than last year.

There is still a little snow ice on the north side of our house, two feet broad, a relic of the 25th of December. This is all there is on our premises. According to Rees’s Cyclopedia, the sap of the birches is fermentable in its natural state. Also, “Ratray, the learned Scot, affirms, that he has found by experiment, that the liquor which may be drawn from the birch tree in the springtime is equal to the whole weight of the tree, branches, roots, and all together.” I think on the whole that, of the particular trees which I tapped, the yellow and canoe birches flowed the fastest. Hazy all day, with wind from the west, threatening rain. Haze gets to be very thick and perhaps smoky in the afternoon, concealing distinct forms of clouds, if there are any. Can it have anything to do with fires in woods west and southwest? Yet it is warm. 5 p. M.—Sail on the meadow. There suddenly flits before me and alights on a small apple tree in Mackay’s field, as I go to my boat, a splendid purple finch. Its glowing redness is revealed when it lifts its wings, as when the ashes is blown from a coal of fire. Just as the oriole displays its gold. The river is going down and leaving the line of its wrack on the meadow. It was at its height when the snow generally was quite melted here, 2. e. yesterday. Rains considerably in the evening. Perhaps this will raise the river again." Apri 13. Sunday. 8 a.m. — Up railroad. Cold, and froze in the night. The sallow will not open till some time to-day. I hear a bay-wing on the railroad fence sing — the rhythm — somewhat like, char char (or here here), che che, chip chip chip (fast), chitter chitter chitter chit (very fast and jingling), tchea tchea (jinglingly). It has another strain, considerably different, but a second also sings the above. Two on different posts are steadily singing the same, as if contending with each other, notwith- standing the cold wind. P. M. — ‘To Walden and Fair Haven Ponds. Still cold and windy. The early gooseberry leaf-buds in garden have burst, — now like small green frilled horns. Also the amelan- chier flower-buds are bursting. As I go down the railroad causeway, I see a flock of eight or ten bay-wing sparrows flitting along the fence and alighting on an apple tree. There are many robins about also. Do they not incline more to fly in flocks a cold and windy day like this?