Thoreau writes in his journal:
P.M.—To Hubbard’s Grove, on river . . .
A painted tortoise just burying three flesh-colored eggs in the dry, sandy plain near the thrasher’s nest. It leaves no trace on the surface . . .
Thoreau writes in his journal:
P.M.—To Hubbard’s Grove, on river . . .
A painted tortoise just burying three flesh-colored eggs in the dry, sandy plain near the thrasher’s nest. It leaves no trace on the surface . . .