1886
June 27
Concord, Massachusetts.
  Clear white hight N. W. wind; a fine cool day.
  Happening to awake at 3a.m. I lay listening
to the birds for awhile then rose dreaded and 
went to the top of Ripley's HIll to see the River side.
  The first bird, a Robin, called a few times at
3:10 and then began singing. Two minutes later another 
joined in and at 3:15 all the Robins in the vicinity
were in full cry. What a noise they made! Too
confused and boisterous to be music, rather a 
clamor like crowds shouting. At nearly the 
same moment each morning it must rise, with
few breaks, from Canada to Virginia, then 
southward along to Alleghanies to Georgia, and
with the advancing day rolling west ward to
the Rocky Mountains. It is like the cry of a
nation greeting the air.
  At 3.30 a wood pevee sang, next a Cat bird,
and then Chippies Least Fly catchers and Grass
Finches. The Chippies at first uttered a succession
of hissing trills with only a few records interval
between and any different from the day long.
  As I crossed the road at 3.50 I nearly stepped
on a long Sparrow which did not seem to her
[?] in the twilight.  It was running about in the 
dusty track apparently feeding.
  By this time most of the Robin's had ceased
singing and I noticed [?] scattered about on
the turf of the hillside. A Grass Finch was singing
on a rock in the middle of the field, its simple
lay tender, subdued yet any touching with its 
plantive sarnestrues. At 4 a.m. Orioles, Kingbirds