Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, May 27, 1914

Rain in night wakes me.  

 Robins singing at first light.  Sparrows.  Later – Flickers call.  Makes me think + Johnny Jump-ups.

 A sultry moist morning – heat intensified by the moisture – sultriness shows rain is not over.

 Transplanting Condulas.  Shading garden.  Robin.

Rain soaked grass and darkened dirt Robin cleaning self in tree.  Young robin.  condition of robins at this time of year.

How full of life everything seems.  The constant calls of sparrows, robins + chippy sparrows.  Cackling of hens [CD] Once a songsparrow calls. Then a chippy sings.

The tiger beetles.  He’s spasmodic rapid advances.  Pursuing ant. –

The small blue-green bee.  Seeing him yesterday.  Again today.  His short live will probably be spent in trying to straighten his twisted wings.

The young robins.  Afforded a chance to see both parents at the nest.

The wren at the wren box. Evidently has just found the box and is singing madly.  He aspires a reverence.  In and out of the box he goes singing all the while, a wonder he would get anything accomplished   Sometimes he thrusts his head out merely to sing, as he hops along on the ground, he seems unable to contain himself.  Seems the happiest of all birds for he sings at all times of the day and crowds on lay on another in such a rapid succession that we wonder he does not burst.  Every action denotes busyness.

Robin taking sun-bath.

Wren comes busily up thru bellwort and alights on arbor near me + sings.  Catches my eye + flies across arbor, and then on a sudden thought flies down + seizes twig three times his length and negotiates it onto box with remarkable dexterity.

Tiger swallow-tail on peonies.

When the wren can’t get a stick in the ox.  When I thought he threw it away, he knows it was on accident.

Eight spotted forester on raspberry blossoms.  Dazzles the eye when in flight.  Calls attention to the myriad whirling tiny bees.

As evening comes on, the sky clears a calmness settles down the sunshine becomes golden.

Then a Bob-white calling from east. Welcome sound.

Charles E. Burchfield, May 27. 1914