1892 
Oct. 8
(No 3)
Concord, Massachusetts.
Mass.
Concord. The ground was hard and smooth and 
the grass short. Over this he moved with slow 
stately steps  towards the water's edge occasionally 
stopping and stretching up his long neck to 
look at me. He reminded me of a Sand-hill 
Crane which he resembled not only in motions 
but in his nearly uniform blueish ashy coloring
-between the blue of the river and sky as Thoreau 
says. Poor bird! I hope that a shot which 
I heard at this bend [delete]did not[/delete] an hour later 
did not end his career but I saw nothing 
of him when I paddled homeward at evening. 
  There is a skeleton of one of those Herons under 
the pines on Davis's Hill- shot there by some 
campers, I suppose, and left to rot where it 
fell! It is indeed sad to think that the 
few large birds which still visit this river are 
so mercilessly pursued and wantonly slain. This 
fine creature, for instance one evening adding 
life and interest to the meadows by its picturesque 
form and imposing flight, the next a heap 
of carrion & disheveled feathers under the pines 
where it met its fate!
  I hear the [?] note of the Chickadee frequently
these Indian summer days but the bird does
not utter it steadily & presently as in spring.
I am inclined to consider it a [?] song
note. So far as I know it is never given by
the female nor by young birds.
[margin]Chickadee[/margin]