23 July 1860 – 29 July 1860

The button-bush is but just fairly begin- ning here and there. Still more rain this forenoon, but chiefly clouds. We have had several thunder-showers this month in the forenoon, it clearing off bright by the afternoon. I saw the other day where the lightning on the 12th or 13th had struck the telegraph-posts at Walden Pond. It had shattered five posts in succession, they being a dozen rods apart, spoiling them entirely; though all of them stood but one, yet they were a mere wrack of splinters through which you could look. It had omitted a great many more posts and struck half a dozen more at a great distance from these on each side. The furthest I noticed was near by the second mile-post, the nearest midway the causeway. And at the same time there was a smart shock, an explosion, at the operating office at the depot, two miles off from the furthest point. I should think, speaking from memory, that the posts struck were the oldest and dampest, or most rotten. At one or two posts it had plainly entered the ground and plowed toward the railroad-track, slightly injuring it. It struck a pitch pine standing within four or five feet of the wire, leaving a white seam down one side of it, also two large oaks a little further off. This was where the telegraph ran parallel to, and a few feet only from, a wood. It also struck a small oak on the opposite side of the track. The lightning struck for two miles (!!) at least. 2 p.m. — By boat to Conantum. It has cleared up fairly. The late rose is now in prime along the river, a pale rose-color but very delicate, keeping up the memory of roses. Also the Liliwm Canadense is apparently in prime and very abundant in College Meadow. So far as leaves are concerned, one of the most notice- able phenomena of this green-leaf season is the con- spicuous reflection of light in clear breezy days from the silvery under sides of some. All trees and shrubs which have light-colored or silvery under sides to their leaves, but especially the swamp white oak and the red maple, are now very bright and conspicuous in the strong wind after the rain of the morning. Indeed, now that the leaves are so numerous they are more noticeable than ever, but you must be on the windward side. Some, as the Salix alba, are thus silvered only at the top and extremities, the ”~, younger leaves alone being sufficiently appressed to show their under sides. But the two kinds first men- tioned are the most generally conspicuous, and these forming commonly the front rank, — especially at the base of hills, — behind which grow other oaks, and birches, pines, etc., you see the whole outline of these trees, waving and rustling in the breeze against that darker green, suggesting frostwork, or as if etched in sil- ver on a green ground. ‘To be sure, most, if not all leaves, not to mention grasses, are a paler green beneath, and hence the oaks and other trees behind show vari- ous shades of green, which would be more observed if it were not for these stronger contrasts. Though the wind may not be very strong nor incessant, you appear to see only the under sides of those first named, and they make a uniform impression, as if their leaves, having been turned up, were permanently held so. Be- fore the wind arose, the wooded shore and hillsides were an almost uniform green, but now the whole out- line of the swamp white oaks and maples is revealed by the wind —a sort of magic, a “presto change” — distinctly against trees whose leaves are nearly of the same color with the upper sides of these.

The carpenter working for Edward Hoar in Lincoln caught, two or three days ago, an exhausted or half-famished golden-winged warbler alive in their ~ yard. It was within half a mile that I saw one a few weeks ago. It is a sufficiently well-marked bird, by the large yellow spot on the wing (the greater coverts), yel- low front and crown, and the very distinct black throat and, I should say, upper breast, above which white divided by a broad black line through the eye. Above blue-gray, with much yellowish-green dusting or reflec- tion, 2. e. edging, to the feathers. Many a field where the grass has been cut shows now a fresh and very lit-up light green as you look toward the sun. This is a remarkably cool day. Thermometer 72° at 2 P. M. The song of the field sparrow sounds more prominent of late, and quite rich and varied, and methinks I begin to hear the warbling vireo more ?

P. M.—To Mr. Bradshaw’s, Wayland, with Ed. Hoar. I was surprised to see among the birds which Brad- shaw has obtained the little auk of Nuttall (ergulus alle, or common sea-dove), which he says that he shot in the fall on the pond of the Assabet at Knight’s factory. There were two, and the other was killed with a paddle. It is said in Wilson, though apparently not by him, that “with us it is a very rare bird, and when seen it is gen- erally in the vicinity of the sea.” One was sent to him from Great Egg Harbor in December, 1811, as a great curiosity, and this is the one described. Rarely visits Great Britain; is found as far north as Spitzbergen at least. “The Greenlanders call it the Ice-bird from the circumstance of its being the harbinger of ice.” “It grows fat in the stormy season, from the waves bring- ing plenty of crabs and small fish within its reach.” Nuttall says its appearance here is always solitary; driven here by stress of weather; that it has been seen in Fresh Pond, and Audubon found a few breeding in Labrador. Giraud says, “In the United States it is rare.” “JT am informed [it]* is occasionally seen by the fishermen of Egg Harbor.” Is that on Long Island ?? Says one was killed at “ Raynor South,” and it is said to breed on the arctic coast. Ross’s party fed on them on the west coast of Greenland. Peabody says: “in hardiness and power of enduring cold, no bird exceeds them. . . . In Newfoundland they are called the Ice- bird, from the presumption that, unless extreme cold were approaching, they would not come so far from home. Those that are found in this state are generally exhausted by their long flight; some have quietly sub- mitted to be taken by the hand. They are not regular visitants, but occasional solitary wanderers.”’ Was also surprised to see the fork-tailed stormy petrel (Thalassidroma Leachir) in his collection, which he caught exhausted near his house, and I think that he said his boy found another dead. Brewer says, “ Habitat from Massachusetts to Newfoundland.” Wilson says that one of the other species (7. Wilsoniz) was shot on the Schuylkill near Philadelphia, and that they are sometimes found in the interior of Great Britain. Giraud says that the former, like the last, “is of rare occurrence on the shores of Long Island,” and, under the T. Wilsonit, that “the Petrel is never seen inland except when driven in, as it occasionally happens, by severe storms.” Baird wrote to him shortly after the gale in August, 1842: “You have probably seen an account in the papers of the Petrels which had been driven inland by the storm of August. They were nearly all the Fork- tailed Petrel, Thalassidroma Leachii. I saw about half a dozen specimens killed near Washington. They were killed in Petersburgh and Bewfort, Va., and many other places.” According to Peabody, Audubon makes the fork-tailed to be much more abundant on the coast of Massachusetts than the 7. Wilsoniz, and about vessels to be the most suspicious of the three. P. says, “I have had one brought to me which was taken near Chicopee River in Springfield, 70 miles from the shore.” He had also the Ardea exilis, or least bittern, which he obtained on his river meadow. He sees it there oc- casionally and has set it up before, though it is not so common as the wiridis. He sees it stand on the pads. It is considerably less than the viridis and more tawny or tawny-brown. Wilson says it “is the smallest known species of the whole tribe,” and that, like the viridis, they skulk by day and feed by night. Peabody says, “They are seldom seen, as they rise only in sudden alarm.” He also has the long-eared owl (Sérix otus), which he killed in the woods behind his house. Wilson says, “Except in size, this species has more resemblance to the Great Horned Owl than any other of its tribe.” Probably the same with the European. Peabody says it “is never common” in Massachusetts. Giraud has seen it in his neighborhood only in the winter. He has the Rallus Carolinianus, and says that he sees another kind as common as this on the river meadows there, — a true rail, but with a much longer bill. He is very confident about it and has killed and set them up. It is undoubtedly the R. Virginianus, or lesser clapper rail, which, as he had already said, cor- responded to an English rail which he knew. So we have this in Concord, no doubt. He has the Sylvia maculosa, shot near his house. Bluish-ash above, I believe, head or crown the same, yellow throat and beneath, with many blackish spots and marks [?] on sides and breast, and white spots on inner vanes of tail-feathers, the tail being blackish. Has two specimens of what he called the crow black- bird, shot by his house in the spring. They appeared to me surprisingly large, and he had furnished them with yellow irides, which he says are like the original ones. Nuttall says that the Quiscalus major has a yellow iris, the other a silvery iris. Brewer says that the former resembles the latter “to a great degree, differing from it principally in size and in its concave tail.” This © of Bradshaw’s measured about fourteen inches long. He says these two were larger than others with them. The vertical depth of bill at base was that assigned to the Q. versicolor by Nuttall. As set up, I think that the tail was not convex. Passed a field in Wayland occupied by so worthless a crop to the farmer as to attract attention, —a very undulating gravelly and stony field filled with johns- ~~ wort (in its prime), sorrel (still red-seeded), and mulleins, between which, however, you saw the gravel, — yet very pleasant to the naturalist.

2 p.m.— To Walden. Rhyncospora alba, perhaps as long as fusca, toward east part of Hubbard’s Close, 2.e¢. arethusa part. Rusty cotton-grass abundant, but also going and gone — to seed, say a fortnight, in same place. Common cran- berry still lingers in bloom there, though berries are half grown. Methinks the leaves begin to rustle generally, 7. e. with a harder rustle, about June 11th, when they begin to show light under sides in the breeze. I saw a bream swimming about in that smaller pool by Walden in Hubbard’s Wood, though entirely cut off from the pond now. So they may be well off in the Wyman meadow or Pout’s Nest.

A. M.— Pretty heavy rain last night. The day after a heavy rain, I can detect all the poor or sappy shingles on my neighbor’s low roof which I overlook, for they, absorbing much water and not dry- ing for a long time, are so many black squares spotting the gray roof. 2 p. M. — Sail and paddle down river. The water has begun to be clear and sunny, revealing the fishes and countless minnows of all sizes and colors, this year’s brood. I see healthy blossoms of the front-rank polygonum just fairly begun. I see running on the muddy shore under the ponte- deria a large flat and thin-edged brown bug (with six legs), some seven eighths of an inch long, pointed behind; with apparently its eggs, fifty or sixty in number, large and dark-col- ored, standing side by side on their ends and forming a very conspicuous patch which covers about a third of its flat upper surface. I remove one with my knife, and it ap- pears to stand in a thick glutinous matter. It runs through the water and mud, and falls upon its back a foot or more from my hand without dislodging them. See, twenty rods or more down-stream, four or five young ducks, which appear already to be disturbed by my boat. So, leaving that to attract their attention, I make my way alongshore in the high grass and behind the trees till I am opposite to them. At a distance they appear simply black and white, as they swim deep, — black backs and white throats. Now I find that they have retreated a little into the pontederia, and are very busily diving, or dipping, not immersing their whole bodies, but their heads and shoulders while their bodies are perfectly perpendicular, just like tame ducks. All of them close together will be in this attitude at the same moment. I now see that the throat, and probably upper part, at least, of breast, is clear-white, and there is a clear line of white above eye and on neck within a line of black; and as they stand on their heads, the tips apparently of their tails (possibly wings ??) are conspicuously white or whitish; the upper part, also, is seen to be brownish rather than black. I presume these to be young summer ducks, though so dark; say two thirds grown. How easy for the young ducks to hide amid the pickerel-weed along our river, while a boat goes by! and this plant attains its height when these water-fow] are of a size to need its shelter. Thousands of them might be concealed by it along our river, not to speak of the luxuriant sedge and grass of the meadows, much of it so wet as to be inaccessible. These ducks are diving scarcely two feet within the edge of the pickerel- weed, yet one who had not first seen them exposed from a distance would never suspect their neighbor- hood. See very great flocks of young red-wing blackbirds.

2».M.— Up Assabet to Annursnack. Dulichium spathaceum apparently some days. Hol- cus lanatus long done; very abundant on the west and northwest side of Painted-Cup Meadow. A man shows me in the street a single bunch of po- tato-balls (2. e. on one stem) twenty in number, several of them quite an inch in diameter and the whole clus- ter nearly five inches in diameter as it hangs, to some extent emulating a cluster of grapes. The very sight of them supplies my constitution with all needed potash. Scirpus subterminalis in the Assabet at island above Dove Rock, how long?

Rain, more or less, by day, and more in the night.