Stowe notes, letters and verses . its hoarserquah-quah, and a half-articulated chickadee re-vealed the character of its little companion, whom Istraightway acknowledged a tricksy spirit indeed. Thebird I took to be the nuthatch was small, even smaller, Ithink, than its companion—the red-breasted, flew with wonderful rapidity, darting from tree totree, and once circled twice around the trunks of thebasswood trees without alighting, and with the duskyswiftness of a bat. The large and slowly falling flakes, whirling downout of the gray sky, seemed to weigh down my eyelids,causing my
Stowe notes, letters and verses . its hoarserquah-quah, and a half-articulated chickadee re-vealed the character of its little companion, whom Istraightway acknowledged a tricksy spirit indeed. Thebird I took to be the nuthatch was small, even smaller, Ithink, than its companion—the red-breasted, flew with wonderful rapidity, darting from tree totree, and once circled twice around the trunks of thebasswood trees without alighting, and with the duskyswiftness of a bat. The large and slowly falling flakes, whirling downout of the gray sky, seemed to weigh down my eyelids,causing my glance to decline with them to the ground. Of late, on these, gray cloud-tattered skies, an Indianfile of crows, clamoring as they go, gives a wild kind ofcharm. 42 STOWENOTES In the barn: Lambs. Maternal fullness and softness in thesheeps ordinarily cold eye; eyes of cows and of thesheep in the interior pen glowing like jewels. The low-ing of the cows suppressed, exactly like the low notes ofa bass viol, sonorous and APRIL The distant fields in the valley are changing colorever so slightly, from gray to a faint raw greenish tinge. Hermit thrushes heard to-day in a woody hillsidenear Moscow, from the river road. To-night it is warm and windy. The wind comesblowing gustily from the south. After supper, at about seven, I went out on thepiazza, and heard the longed-for and expected note. Iwent to the edge of the west pasture, which was veryobscure in the shadow of the hill, where along the ridgethe evergreens were darkly mingled in a cloud of stillleafless twigs. Behind were the dusky mountains andthe pale salmon strip of sky above them, and floatingacross this dim expanse, sometimes stifled and carriedaway in faint murmurs in the gusts of the south wind,came the notes of the hermit thrushes. When I am dead and buried, or dead and burned, Ithink something of what was once me will respond at thefirst spring song of the thrushes. It is the immortalvoice that speaks to so
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