A. M. —To Island.
Only the lower limbs of bass begin to leaf yet, -- yesterday.
A crow blackbird’s nest, about eight feet up a white maple over water, -- a large, loose nest without, some eight inches high, between a small twig and main trunk, composed of coarse bark shreds and dried last year’s grass, without mud; within deep and size of robin’s nest; with four pale-green eggs, streaked and blotched with black and brown. Took one. Young bird not begun to form.
Hear and see yellow-throat vireo.
See oat-seed spawn — a mass as big as fist —- on bottom; of brown jelly composed of smaller globules, each with a fish-like tadpole, color of a seed.
May 11, 2025
Some young elms begin to leaf. Butternut leafs apparently to-morrow. Larger rock maples not yet begun to leaf, -- later considerably than large white maples, and somewhat than large red.
Apparently andromeda will not open before the 15th or 16th, and the buck-bean, now just budded above the water, not before the 20th.
Juniperus repens will not open, apparently, before the 14th or 15th.
Canoe birch just sheds pollen. Very handsome drooping golden catkins, sometimes two or three together, some five and a quarter inches long. The leaves of some young sprouts already three-quarters inch over, but of the trees not started.
The second amelanchier just sheds pollen, in a swamp.
I trod on a large black snake, which, as soon as I stepped again, went off swiftly down the hill toward the swamp, with head erect like a racer. Looking closely, I found another left behind, partly concealed by the dry leaves. They were lying amid the leaves in this open wood east of Beck Stow’s, amid the sweet fem and huckleberry bushes. The remaining one ran out its tongue at me, and vibrated its tail swiftly, making quite a noise on the leaves; then darted forward, passed round an oak, and whipped itself straight down into a hole at its base one and a half inches over. After its head had entered, its tail was not long in following.
You can hardly walk in a thick pine wood now, especially a swamp, but presently you will have a crow or two over your head, either silently flitting over, to spy what you would be at and if its nest is in danger, or angrily cawing. It is most impressive when, looking for their nests, you first detect the presence of the bird by its shadow.
Was not that a bay-wing which I heard sing, — ah, twar twe twar, twit twit twit twit, twe?
Viola pedata sheds pollen,-- the first I have chanced to see.
I hear some kind of owl partially hooting now at 4 P.M., I know not whether far off or near.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 11, 1855
Only the lower limbs of bass begin to leaf yet, -- yesterday. See May 13, 1854 ("The bass suddenly expanding its little round leaves."); May 13, 1855 ("The large bass trees now begin to leaf. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Basswood
It is most impressive when, looking for their nests, you first detect the presence of the bird by its shadow. See September 16, 1852("I detect the transit of the first [hawk] by his shadow on the rock, and look toward the sun for him. Though he is made light beneath to conceal him, his shadow betrays him.") See also May 5, 1855 ("A crow . . . directly over my head within thirty-five feet, caws angrily.") and note to May 11, 1855 ("You can hardly walk in a thick pine wood now, especially a swamp, but presently you will have a crow or two over your head, either silently flitting over, to spy what you would be at and if its nest is in danger, or angrily cawing.")
Was not that a bay-wing which I heard sing. See. April 13, 1855 (" See a sparrow without marks on throat or breast, running peculiarly in the dry grass in the open field beyond, and hear its song, and then see its white feathers in tail; the bay-wing"); May 12, 1857 ("I hear from across the fields the note of the bay-wing, Come here here there there quick quick quick or I'm gone. . . As the bay-wing sang many a thousand years ago, so sang he to-night . . . [S]uddenly, in some fortunate moment, the voice of eternal wisdom reaches me even, in the strain of the sparrow, and liberates me, whets and clarifies my senses, makes me a competent witness.")
Viola pedata sheds pollen,-- the first I have chanced to see. See May 5, 1852 ("The Viola pedata budded, ready to blossom."); May 6, 1859 ("Viola pedata begins to be common about white pine woods there."); May 9, 1852 ("The first Viola pedata "); May 10, 1858 ("How much expression there is in the Viola pedata! I do not know on the whole but it is the handsomest of them all, it is so large and grows in such large masses."); May 17, 1853 ("The greatest array of blue of any flower as yet. The flowers are so raised above their leaves, and so close together, that they make a more indelible impression of blue on the eye; it is almost dazzling. I blink as I look at them, they seem to reflect the blue rays so forcibly, with a slight tinge of lilac."); May 18, 1854 ("The V. pedata beginning to be abundant."). May 20, 1852 ("the V. pedata is smooth and pale-blue, delicately tinged with purple reflections"). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Violets
Looking for nests, you
detect the presence of the
bird by its shadow.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, When you first detect the bird by its shadow.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau
"A book, each page written in its own season,
out-of-doors, in its own locality.”
~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2025
https://tinyurl.com/hdt-550511
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