1891.
Dec. 30
Concord, Massachusetts.
Concord. - Morning cloudy with light rain. Afternoon
clear with N.W. wind blowing half a gale, yet not cold.
  At 3 P.M. I launched my Rushton boat and
started up river. The recent rain has raised the 
water nearly to a level with the meadows and a
strong current was running. This, combined with the
violent wind, gave me hard work as far as Egg
Rock but the Assabet, up which I turned, was
as placid under its sheltered banks and overhanging
woods as on a summer's evening. 
  I rowed up to Bird's Nest Island and back without
seeing a living thing save a fine Gray Squirrel which
was in the old hemlocks. He passed rapidly from
one tree to the next running out over the branches
and leaping from one to another, finally climbing
the main trunk of a large tree and concealing
himself among the foliage.
[margin]Gray Squirrel[/margin]
  On returning to the Buttricks' and just as I
was stepping out of the canoe at the landing
I happened to look up and at once perceived
a Shrike - a large, brown bird - sitting on the 
top of a bean pole on the hill-side above. His
attitude was easy, yet erect, and he did not move
in the least for several seconds. Then, after a
flit of the tail, he took wing and crossed
the river in long, graceful undulations finally
passing out of sight beyond Honeysuckle Island.
The Shrike is perhaps as characteristic a feature 
of our winter landscape as is any other bird,
not even excepting the Snow Bunting. There is a certain
easy nonchalance in his bearing which assures one of
the bird's hardiness and indifference to cold or hunger.
[margin]Shrike[/margin]