22 March 1858 – 28 March 1858

P. M. — Launch my boat and row down- stream. There is a strong and cool northwest wind. Leaving our boat just below N. Barrett’s, we walk down the shore. We see many gulls on the very opposite side of the meadow, near the woods. They look bright-white, like snow on the dark-blue water. It is surprising how far they can be seen, how much light they reflect, and how conspicuous they are. Being strung along one every rod, they made me think of a fleet in line of battle. We go along to the pitch pine hill off Abner Buttrick’s, and, finding a sheltered and sunny place, we watch the ducks from it with our glass. There are not only gulls, but about forty black ducks and as many shel- drakes, and, I think, two wood ducks. The gulls ap- pear considerably the largest and make the most show, they are so uniformly light-colored. At a distance, as I have said, they look like snowy masses, and even nearer they have a lumpish look, like a mass of cotton, the head being light as well as the breast. They are seen sailing about in the shallow water, or standing motionless on a clod that just rises above the surface, in which position they have a particularly clumsy look; or one or two may be seen slowly wheeling about above the rest. From time to time the whole flock of gulls suddenly rises and begins circling about, and at last they settle down in some new place and order. With these were at first as- sociated about forty black ducks, pretty close together, sometimes apparently in close single lines, some looking lumpish like decoys of wood, others standing on the bottom and reminding me of penguins. ‘They were con- stantly diving with great energy, making the water fly apparently two feet upward in a thick shower. Then away they all go, circling about for ten minutes at least before they can decide where to alight. The black heads and white breasts, which may be golden-eyes, for they are evidently paired, male and female, for the most part,!— and yet I thought that I saw the red bill of the sheldrake, — these are most incessantly and skillfully plunging and from time to time apparently pursuing each other. They are much more active, whether diving or swimming about, than you expect ducks to be. Now, perchance, they are seen changing their ground, swimming off, perhaps, two by two, in pairs, very steadily and swiftly, without diving. I see two of these very far off on a bright-blue bay where the waves are running high. They are two intensely white specks, which yet you might mistake for the foaming crest of waves. Now one disappears, but soon is seen again, and then its companion is lost in like manner, having dived. I see those peculiar spring (?) clouds, scattered cu- muli with dark level bases. No doubt the season is to be detected by the aspect of the clouds no less than by that of the earth.

Surveying Mr. Gordon’s farm. See something stirring amid the dead leaves in the water at the bottom of a ditch, in two or three places, and presently see the back of a yellow-spotted turtle. Afterward a large flock of fox-colored sparrows flits by along an alder-row, uttering a faint chip like that of the tree sparrow.

P. M. — To Fair Haven Pond, east side. The pond not yet open. A cold north-by-west wind, which must have come over much snow and ice. The chip of the ground-bird ' resembles that of a robin, 1. e., its expression is the same, only fainter, and reminds me that the robin’s peep, which sounds like a note of distress, is also a chip, or call-note to its kind. Returning about 5 p. m. across the Depot Field, I scare up from the ground a flock of about twenty birds, which fly low, making a short circuit to another part of the field. At first they remind me of bay-wings, except that they are in a flock, show no white in tail, are, I see, a little larger, and utter a faint sveet sveet merely, a sort of sibilant chip. Starting them again, I see that they have black tails, very conspicuous when they pass near. They fly in a flock somewhat like snow buntings, occasionally one surging upward a few feet in pursuit of another, and they alight about where they first were. It [is] almost impossible to dis- cover them on the ground, they squat so flat and so much resemble it, running amid the stubble. But at length I stand within two rods of one and get a good view of its markings with my glass. ‘They are the Alauda alpestris, or shore lark,’ quite a sizable and handsome bird; delicate pale-lemon-yellow line above the [eye], with a dark line through the eye; the yel- low again on the sides of the neck and on the throat, with a black crescent below the throat; with a buff- ash breast and reddish-brown tinges; beneath, white; 1 'That is, song sparrow. above, rusty-brown behind, and darker, ash or slate, with purplish-brown reflections, forward; legs, black; and bill, blue-black. Common to the Old and New Worlds.

P. M. — To bank of Great Meadows by Peter's. Cold northwest wind as yesterday and day before. Large skaters ({1ydrometra) on a ditch. Going across A. Clark’s field behind Garfield’s, I see many fox-colored sparrows flitting past in a strag- gling manner into the birch and pitch pine woods on the left, and hear a sweet warble there from time to time. They are busily scratching like hens amid the dry leaves of that wood (not swampy), from time to time the rearmost moving forward, one or two at a time, while a few are perched here and there on the lower branches of a birch or other tree; and I hear a very clear and sweet whistling strain, commonly half- finished, from one every two or three minutes. It is too irregular to be readily caught, but methinks be- gins like ar tche tche tchear, te tche tchear, etc., etc., but is more clear than these words would indicate. The whole flock is moving along pretty steadily. There are so many sportsmen out that the ducks have no rest on the Great Meadows, which are not half covered with water. They sit uneasy on the water, looking about, without feeding, and I see one man en- deavor to approach a flock crouchingly through the meadow for half a mile, with india-rubber boots on, where the water is often a foot deep. This has been going on, on these meadows, ever since the town was settled, and will go on as long as ducks settle here. You might frequently say of a poet away from home that he was as mute as a bird of passage, uttering a mere chip from time to time, but follow him to his true habitat, and you shall not know him, he will sing so melodiously.

P. M. —Sail to Bittern Cliff. Scare up a flock of sheldrakes just off Fair Haven Hill, the conspicuous white ducks, sailing straight hither and thither. At first they fly low up the stream, but, having risen, come back half-way to us, then wheel and go up-stream. Soon after we scare up a flock of black ducks. We land and steal over the hill through the woods, expecting to find them under Lee’s Cliff, as indeed we do, having crawled over the hill through the woods on our stomachs; and there we watched various water-fowl for an hour. ‘There are a dozen sheldrakes (or goosanders) and among them four or five females. They are now pairing. I should say one or two pairs are made. At first we see only a male and female quite on the alert, some way out on the pond, tacking back and forth and looking every way. They keep close together, headed one way, and when one turns the other also turns quickly. The male appears to take the lead. Soon the rest appear, sailing out from the shore into sight. We hear a squeaking note, as if made by a pump, and presently see four or five great herring gulls wheeling about. Sometimes they make a sound like the scream of a hen-hawk. They are shaped somewhat like a very thick white rolling-pin, sharpened at both ends. At length they alight near the ducks. The sheldrakes at length acquire confidence, come close inshore and go to preening themselves, or it may be they are troubled with lice. They are all busy about it at once, continually thrusting their bills into their backs, still sailing slowly along back and forth offshore. Sometimes they are in two or three straight lines. Now they will all seem to be crossing the pond, but pre- sently you see that they have tacked and are all heading this way again. Among them, or near by, I at length detect three or four whistlers, by their wanting the red bill, being considerably smaller and less white, having a white spot on the head, a black back, and altogether less white, and also keeping more or less apart and not diving when the rest do. Now one half the sheldrakes sail off southward and suddenly go to diving as with one consent. Seven or eight or the whole of the party will be under water and lost at once. In the mean- while, coming up, they chase one another, scooting over the surface and making the water fly, sometimes three or four making a rush toward one. At length I detect two little dippers, as I have called them, though I am not sure that I have ever seen the . male before. They are male and female close together, the common size of what I have called the little dipper.' They are incessantly diving close to the button-bushes. The female is apparently uniformly black, or rather dark brown, but the male has a conspicuous crest, with, apparently, white on the hindhead, a white breast, and white line on the lower side of the neck; 2. e., the head and breast are black and white con- -spicuously. Can this be the Fuligula albeola, and have I commonly seen only the female? Or is it a grebe? Fair Haven Pond four fifths clear. C. saw a pheebe, 1. e. pewee, the 25th. The sheldrake has a peculiar long clipper look, often moving rapidly straight forward over the water. It sinks to very various depths in the water sometimes, as when apparently alarmed, showing only its head and neck and the upper part of its back, and at others, when at ease, floating buoyantly on the surface, as if it had taken in more air, showing all its white breast and the white along its sides. Sometimes it lifts itself up on the surface and flaps its wings, revealing its whole rosaceous breast and its lower parts, and look- ing in form like a penguin. When I first saw them fly up-stream I suspected that they had gone to Fair Haven Pond and would alight under the lee of the Cliff. So, creeping slowly down through the woods four or five rods, I was enabled to get a fair sight of them, and finally we sat exposed on the rocks within twenty- five rods. They appear not to observe a person so high above them. It was a pretty sight to see a pair of them tacking about, always within a foot or two of each other and heading the same way, now on this short tack, now on that, the male taking the lead, sinking deep and looking every way. When the whole twelve had come together they would soon break up again, and were continually changing their ground, though not diving, now sailing slowly this way a dozen rods, and now that, and now coming in near the shore. ‘Then they would all go to preening themselves, thrusting their bills into their backs and keeping up such a brisk motion that you could not get a fair sight of one’s head. From time to time you heard a slight titter, not of alarm, but perhaps a breeding-note, for they were evidently selecting their mates. I saw one scratch its ear or head with its foot. Then it was surprising to see how, briskly sailing off one side, they went to diving, as if they had suddenly come across a school of minnows. A whole company would disappear at once, never rising high as before. Now for nearly a minute there is not a feather to be seen, and the next minute you see a party of half a dozen there, chas- ing one another and making the water fly far and wide. When returning, we saw, near the outlet of the pond, seven or eight sheldrakes standing still in a line on the edge of the ice, and others swimming close by. They evidently love to stand on the ice for a change. I saw on the 22d a sucker which apparently had been dead a week or two at least. Therefore they must begin to die late in the winter.

P. M. — To Cliffs. After a cloudy morning, a warm and pleasant after- noon. I hear that a few geese were seen this morning. Israel Rice says that he heard two brown thrashers sing this morning! Is sure because he has kept the bird in a cage. I can’t believe it. I go down the railroad, turning off in the cut. I notice the hazel stigmas in the warm hollow on the right there, just beginning to peep forth. This is an unobserved but very pretty and interesting evidence of the progress of the season. I should not have noticed it if I had not carefully examined the fertile buds. It is ike a crimson star first dimly detected in the twi- light. The warmth of the day, in this sunny hollow above the withered sedge, has caused the stigmas to show their lips through their scaly shield. ‘They do not project more than the thirtieth of an inch, some not the sixtieth. The staminate catkins are also con- siderably loosened. Just as the turtles put forth their heads, so these put forth their stigmas in the spring. How many accurate thermometers there are on every hill and in every valley: Measure the length of the hazel stigmas, and you can tell how much warmth there has been this spring. How fitly and exactly any season of the year may be described by indicating the condition of some flower! I go by the springs toward the epigeea. It is a fine warm day with a slight haziness. It is pleasant to sit outdoors now, and, it being Sunday, neighbors walk about or stand talking in the sun, looking at and scratch- ing the dry earth, which they are glad to see and smell again. In the sunny epigzea wood I start up two Vanessa Antiopa, which flutter about over the dry leaves be- fore, and are evidently attracted toward me, settling at last within a few feet. ‘The same warm and placid day calls out men and butterflies. It is surprising that men can be divided into those who lead an indoor and those who lead an outdoor life, as if birds and quadrupeds were to be divided into those that lived a within nest or burrow life and [those] that lived without their nests and holes chiefly. How many of our troubles are house-bred! He lives an out- door life; 7. e., he is not squatted behind the shield of a door, he does not keep himself tubbed. It is such a questionable phrase as an “honest man,” or the “naked eye,” as if the eye which is not covered with a spy- glass should properly be called naked. From Wheeler’s plowed field on the top of Fair Haven Hill, I look toward Fair Haven Pond, now quite smooth. There is not a duck nor a gull to be seen on it. I can hardly believe that it was so alive with them yesterday. Apparently they improve this warm and pleasant day, with little or no wind, to continue their journey north- ward. The strong and cold northwest wind of about a week past has probably detained them. Knowing that the meadows and ponds were swarming with ducks yesterday, you go forth this particularly pleasant and still day to see them at your leisure, but find that they “are all gone. No doubt there are some left, and many more will soon come with the April rains. It is a wild life that is associated with stormy and blustering weather. When the invalid comes forth on his cane, and misses improve the pleasant air to look for signs of vegetation, that wild life has withdrawn itself. But when one kind of life goes, another comes. This plowed land on the top of the hill — and all other fields as far as I observe — is covered with cobwebs, which every few inches are stretched from root to root or clod to clod, gleaming and waving in the sun, the light flashing along them as they wave in the wind. How much insect life and activity connected with this pecu- liar state of the atmosphere these imply! Yet I do not notice a spider. Small cottony films are continually settling down or blown along through the air.1 Does not this gossamer answer to that of the fall? They must have sprung to with one consent last night or this morning and bent new cables to the clods and stubble all over this part of the world. The little fuzzy gnats, too, are in swarms in the air, peopling that uncrowded space. ‘They are not con- fined by any fence. Already the distant forest is streaked with lines of thicker and whiter haze over the successive valleys. Walden is open. When? On the 20th it was pretty solid. C. sees a very little ice in it to-day, but probably it gets entirely free to-night. Fair Haven Pond is open.? Sitting on the top of the Cliffs, I look through my glass at the smooth river and see the long forked rip- ple made by a musquash ~-. swimming along over the "Ane, agai. meadow. While I sit on - — ~— these warm rocks, turning my glass toward the moun- 2 ‘This and Flint’s and Walden all open together this year, the lat- ter was so thinly frozen! (For C. says Flint’s and Walden were each a third open on the 25th.) tains, I can see the sun reflected from the rocks on Mo- nadnock, and I know that it would be pleasant to be there too to-day as well as here. I see, too, warm and cosy seats on the rocks, where the flies are buzzing, and probably some walker is enjoying the prospect. From this hilltop I overlook, again bare of snow, putting on a warm, hazy spring face, this seemingly concave circle of earth, in the midst of which I was born and dwell, which in the northwest and southeast has a more distant blue rim to it, as it were of more costly manufacture. On ascending the hill next his home, every man finds that he dwells in a shallow con- cavity whose sheltering walls are the convex surface of the earth, beyond which he cannot see. I see those familar features, that large type, with which all my life is associated, unchanged. Cleaning out the spring on the west side of Fair Haven Hill, I find a small frog, apparently a bullfrog, just come forth, which must have wintered in the mud there. There is very little mud, however, and the rill never runs more than four or five rods before it is soaked up, and the whole spring often dries up in the summer. It seems, then, that two or three frogs, the sole inhabitants of so small a spring, will bury them- selves at its head. A few frogs will be buried at the puniest spring-head. Coming home, I hear the croaking frogs in the pool on the south side of Hubbard’s Grove. It is sufficiently warm for them at last. Near the sand path above Potter’s mud-hole I find what I should call twenty and more mud turtles’ eggs close together, which appear to have been dug from a hole close by last year. ‘They are all broken or cracked and more or less indented and depressed, and they look remarkably like my pigeon’s egg fungi, a dirty white covered thickly with a pure white rough- ness, which through a glass is seen to be oftenest in the form of minute but regular rosettes of a very pure white substance. If these are turtles’ eggs, —and there is no stem mark of a fungus, —it is remarkable that they should thus come to resemble so closely another natural product, the fungus. The first lark of the 23d sailed through the meadow with that peculiar prolonged chipping or twittering sound, perhaps sharp clucking.