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Rh of hens which have come abroad. The ice at Walden is softened. With a stick you can loosen it to the depth of an inch, or the first freezing, and turn it up in cakes. Yesterday you could skate here, now only close to the south shore. I notice the redness of the andromeda leaves, but not so much as once. The sand foliage is now in its prime.

March 1, 1855. It is a very pleasant and warm day, the finest yet, with considerable coolness in the air, however. Winter still. The air is beautifully clear, and through it I love to trace at a distance the roofs and outlines of sober-colored farm-houses amid the woods. We go listening for bluebirds, but only hear crows and chickadees. A fine seething air over the fair russet fields. The dusty banks of snow by the railroad reflect a wonderfully dazzling white from their pure crannies, being melted into an uneven, sharp-wavy surface. This more dazzling white must be due to the higher sun.

March 1, 1856. 9 To Flint's Pond via Walden, by railroad and the crust. I hear the hens cackle as not before for many months. Are they not beginning to lay? The catkins of the willow by the causeway and of the aspens appear to have pushed out a little farther than a month ago. I see the down of half a dozen on that willow by the causeway, on the