P's was surprised to see on the snow over the river a great many seeds and scales of birches, though the snow had so recently fallen. There had been but little wind, and it was already spring. There was one seed or scale to a square foot, yet the nearest birches were, about fifteen of them, along the wall thirty rods east. As I advanced towards them the seeds became thicker and thicker till they quite discolored the snow half a dozen rods distant, while east of the birches there was not one. The birches appear not to have lost a quarter of their seeds yet. So I went home up the river. I saw some of the seeds forty rods off, and perhaps in a more favorable direction I might have found them much farther. It suggested how unwearied nature is in spreading her seeds. Even the spring does not find her unprovided with birch, aye, and alder and pine, seed. A great proportion of the seed that was carried to a distance lodged in the hollow over the river, and when the river breaks up will be carried far away to distant shores and meadows. . . . .
I can hardly believe that hen-hawks may be beginning to build their nests now, yet their young were a fortnight old the last of April last year.
March 2, 1858. I walk through the Colburn
