Charles Burchfield, Journals, March 21, 1911

About four o'clock this morning I woke up. Bright moonlight was streaming in the windows; I got up and looked out; it was a wierd scene of ghostly moonlight, dark sky and shadowy earth.  I went to sleep again but a little later I was awakened by the songs of early robins, it was still moonlight but just a suspicion of daylight was coming, and as it grew lighter and lighter more robins began to sing until, as the sun came up, the air was filled with their wonderful song, that came from every direction, far and near.  Ah the time I was dressing the sun came up higher and brighter and the robins could not sing enough; almost frantically they seemed to pour forth their full notes to the sunshine. Blue-jays began to awaken and to send their shrill “Cleenk Cleenk”, thru the morning air.  It was too much for me. I had to take a walk outdoors to see and hear more of these singers.

As I started out the sun was getting well up in the sky and was very bright and cheerful; the heavens were without a cloud; the air was cool and fresh, and a light frost had touched lightly on the grass.  When I was going out High St. the robins seemed to have come in flocks; they ran and strutted over the streets, in pairs, in threes and in fours, puffing out their bright-colored breasts; they assembled in bushes and trees, darting hither and thither giving shrill cries and occasionally singing; they flew in little flocks thru the air.

As I neared the frog-pond, the robins disappeared and now song-sparrows were making the air ring with their delightful melody; from every bush and tree they sang and fluttered, in the long marsh-grasses surrounding the frozen glittering pond they crept in and out, ever in pairs and occasionally stood up to sing. With their songs sounding in my ears I went on to the pasture-field.

On the fence I paused abruptly. “Tseer-up Tseer-eee” came from someplace farther down the hedge.  I could scarcely be­lieve my ears. Was this my meadow-lark? Was this my cheery meadow lark who delights am every spring with his. merry whistle? No. there could be no mistake. “Tseer-up - Tseer-eee” it went again.  The call of a meadow lark always seems to me so mysterious and evading, we can hear it plainly but it seems to come from no place in particular, to come out of the very air.  The listener may look and look for a long time before he can discover it.  This one this morning was just as mysterious and as hard to find, and therefore all the more delightful. The cheery clear whistle seemed to come from somewhere to the east; I looked but could hardly see for the sun. Finally I did see him, a dark little object upon a swaying branch of a young elm. In order to see him better, I started to circle around to get the dazzling sunlight out of my eyes; suddenly he saw me and disappeared.

Presently, I heard the call of another one far to the north east, in the direction of Bentley’s Woods. In this direction I now turned, to get a glimpse of this one. I walked briskly over the brown pasture-field, frosty in places, past a few tiny pools, that were very clear and bright, until I came to the hedge, dividing the pasture-field from the one beyond.  All the time the “Tseer-up -tseer-eeee-----Tseer-up -- Tseer-eee” sounded in my ears. I went thru a break in the hedge.  Almost immediately the singer flew out from a tree further along the hedge to some tall solitary trees in a distant field where he alighted, sending back to me a fleeting “Tseerup – Tseer-eeee”, more baffling and delightful than before. Another one to the east began to answer him, and then another to the south, all of them seeming to come from the air. They filled me with a wild desire to rush on thru the woods and stay all day, and enjoy – Spring! When I hear their song, visions of long marshland brown and grey, bright pools and streams, dead fields and foggy air with warm sunshine arise within me - it is the remembrance of March days spent in rambling over country-sides and woodlands, before other life has appeared; one never hears them in town or in late spring, but always in the country and at this time when they are most delightful.

As I stood in the center of this frosty field striving to get a glimpse at a meadow-lark, I just realized how many birds were calling and singing.  Besides the larks, down in a field a robin was singing: crows were constantly sending their discordant cries thru the air; over in the woods a red-bird whistled.  But most numerous of all were the blue-birds, who seemed to arise from every place, in hedges, in trees and in the grass.  The whole air echoed with their merry notes.

  Presently I heard an odd cry up in the sky; I looked up but could see nothing.  The cry came continually, a sort of wailing cry that moved along in the air towards the east; now it was gone and then it came again even louder.  All at once it came from directly overhead and settled in a tall elm tree near me.  All I could see were brown flashes moving about in the branches, and hear their song.  Presently they flew in.

Reluctantly I turned my steps homeward.  When I came along the Frog-pond, the Songsparrows were gone, but blue-birds seemed to be everywhere, madly singing their rippling “Chor-chor-chory ---Chor-chor-chory”.  They seemed more beautiful this morning than at other times, their blue -intensely deep and wonderful - was many times brighter as they flashed thru the air from bush to bush. One flew ahead of me for some distance always waiting until I was almost upon him and then singing, he would go flying to another tree or fence.

All day the sun shone warm from the clear sky; whenever a breeze was stirring it was from the south and very balmy. On the way home on unpaved streets I noticed big dry patches of dirt, while the paved streets are dusty.  The ground is getting more solid. As I am writing now a cool breeze is blowing in the window, -- very pleasant.

About nine o’clock, Joe Fred and I went for a long walk which led us out to Highland Ave. and down McKinley where we whistled all the way out to Franklin down which we went to Depot up to Race Street, which led us to the Railroad where we watched a train go by. On the way home at Ellsworth and Main St. we saw Bobby Wright riding backwards on a bicycle. Paul French on the side declared that if Bobby got to going fast enough he would go up in the air. We didn’t believe this of course but he came pretty near falling off. (almost as good)  After we had watched awhile, we went out Ellsworth with Gibby, who came along just then, to Fourth where he went on with some girls who came along just then, while we went home.    

Charles E. Burchfield, March 21, 1911