170 SPRING JOTTINGS 



I look toward the fields where the first brown 

 thrasher is singing, I see emerald patches of rye. 

 The unctuous confident strain of the bird seems 

 to make the fields grow greener hour by hour. 



May 4. The perfection of early May 

 weather. How green the grass, how happy the 

 birds, how placid the river, how busy the bees, 

 how soft the air ! — that kind of weather when 

 there seems to be dew in the air all day, — the 

 day a kind of prolonged morning, — so fresh, 

 so wooing, so caressing! The baby leaves on 

 the apple-trees have doubled in size since last 

 night. 



March 12, 1891. Had positive prccf this 

 morning that at least one song-sparrow has come 

 back to his haunts of a year ago. One year ago 

 to-day my attention was attracted, while walk- 

 ing over to the post-office, by an unfamiliar bird- 

 song. It caught my ear while I was a long way 

 off. I followed it up and found that it pro- 

 ceeded from a song-sparrow. Its chief feature 

 was one long, clear high note, very strong, 

 sweet, and plaintive. It sprang out of the trills 

 and quavers of the first part of the bird-song, 

 like a long arc or parabola of sound. To my 

 mental vision it rose far up against the blue, 

 and turned sharply downward again and fin- 

 ished in more trills and quavers. I had never 

 before heard anything like it. It was the usual 

 long, silvery note in the sparrow's song greatly 

 increased ; indeed, the whole breath and force of 

 the bird put in this note, so that you caught 

 little else than this silver loop of sound. The 



