1886
May 9
Concord, Massachusetts.
  Clear and cool with high N.W. wind.
A glorious day, as bracing as October yet with
the country wreathed in flowers.
  In the forenoon I drove C. to Sudbury
The roads are lonely and but little used, often
passing through woodland, occasionally skirting
broad Meadows. The Apple orchards were at their
highest perfection with patches of white. Birds were
numerous, but I saw nothing of any particular
interest. Meadow Larks were common, one or
more being seen or heard in every meadow.
Bluebirds were frequently seen along the road-
side, and Orioles occurred about the orchard
and Elm shaded farmhouses in apparently un-
diminished numbers. I neither saw nor heard
any Bobolinks, although we passed many places
in every way suited to their habits.
  In the afternoon I rowed up the Assabet with
D.C. French. While midway of the straight reach
above the Hemlocks, my companion asked "is that
a Yellow Warbler?", pointing out a small bird hop-
ping about in some drift-wood caught in the 
lower branches of the black willows lining the
west bank. After looking at it intently for a
moment, I was amazed to recognize my old
Mt. Carmel friend, the Prothonotary Warbler.
We had no gun, but it did not take long to
whirl the boat around and start back for one.
Returning in about three quarters of an hour,
we found our little stranger gone, but presently
I heard him chirp, and then sing in an undertone
near at hand. At length he emerged from