Thoreau writes in his journal:
2 P. M.—To bathe in Hubbard’s meadow, thence to Cliffs. It is beautiful weather, the air wonderfully clear and all objects bright and distinct . . . Examined the hornets’ nest near Hubbard’s Grove, suspended from contiguous huckleberry bushes . . . In these cooler, windier, crystal days the note of the jay sounds a little more native. Standing on the Cliffs, I see them flitting and screaming from pine to pine beneath, displaying their gaudy blue pinions.
