P. M. — Up river.
I scent a fox’s trail this afternoon (and have done so several times before), where he crossed the river, just three rods distant. Looked sharp, and discover where it had stopped by a prominence. Yet he could not have passed since last night, or twelve hours before, it being near the village. How widely they range these nights!
The snow is somewhat banked toward the sides of the river, but shows darker-yellowish or icy in the middle.
Lichens, blown from the black willows, lie here and there on the snow.
Nut Meadow Brook open for some distance in the meadow. I am affected by the sight of some green polygonum leaves there. Some kind of minnow darts off.
I see where a crow has walked along its side. In one place it hopped, and its feet were side by side, as in the track of yesterday, though a little more spread, the toes. I have but little doubt that yesterday’s track was a crow’s. The two inner toes are near together; the middle, more or less curved often.
I see a gray rabbit amid the young oaks in Hubbard’s riverside grove, curled and shrunk up, squatting on the snow. I advance and begin to sketch it, when it plunges into a little hole in the snow by its side, the entrance to its burrow, three inches wide by a little more in length. The track of its foot is about one inch wide.
I see a pitch pine seed, blown thirty rods from J. Hosmer’s little grove.
This has been a memorable January for snow and cold.
It has. been excellent sleighing ever since the 26th of December, — not less than a foot at any time since January 6th on a level in open fields, in swamps much more. Cars have been detained; the wood-lots for the most part inaccessible. The river has been closed up from end to end, with the exception of one or two insignificant openings on a few days. No bare ice.
The crows have been remarkably bold, coming to eat the scraps cast out behind the houses. They alight in our yard.
I think I have not noticed a tree sparrow during the month. Blue jays and chickadees also common in the village, more than usual.
We have completely forgotten the summer. There has been no January thaw, though one prophesied it a fortnight ago because he saw snow-fleas.
The crows have been remarkably bold, coming to eat the scraps cast out behind the houses. They alight in our yard.
I think I have not noticed a tree sparrow during the month. Blue jays and chickadees also common in the village, more than usual.
We have completely forgotten the summer. There has been no January thaw, though one prophesied it a fortnight ago because he saw snow-fleas.
The ponds are yielding a good crop of ice. The eaves have scarcely run at all.
It has been what is called “an old-fashioned winter.”
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, February 1, 1856
I scent a fox’s trail this afternoon (and have done so several times before) . . . See February 24, 1854 ("The other day I thought that I smelled a fox very strongly, and went a little further and found that it was a skunk.")
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, February 1, 1856
I scent a fox’s trail this afternoon (and have done so several times before) . . . See February 24, 1854 ("The other day I thought that I smelled a fox very strongly, and went a little further and found that it was a skunk.")
The snow is somewhat banked toward the sides of the river, but shows darker-yellowish or icy in the middle. Compare February 1, 1855 ("[The river] is now one uninterrupted level white blanket of snow quite to the shore on every side.").
The crows have been remarkably bold, coming to eat the scraps cast out behind the houses. See January 7, 1856("The cold weather has brought the crows, and for the first time this winter I hear them cawing amid the houses.");January 14, 1856 ("The crows are flitting about the houses and alight upon the elms."): January 23, 1852 ("The snow is so deep and the cold so intense that the crows are compelled to be very bold in seeking their food, and come very near the houses in the village."). Also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: The American Crow
We have completely forgotten the summer. See February 3, 1852 ("The landscape covered with snow two feet thick, . . .The scenery is wholly arctic. See if a man can think his summer thoughts now.");
February 9, 1851 ("We have forgotten summer and autumn. Though the days are much longer, the cold sets in stronger than ever.");February 27, 1852 (" We have almost completely forgotten summer."); December 29, 1853 ("The thoughts and associations of summer and autumn are now as completely departed from our minds as the leaves are blown from the trees. ")
The crows have been remarkably bold, coming to eat the scraps cast out behind the houses. See January 7, 1856("The cold weather has brought the crows, and for the first time this winter I hear them cawing amid the houses.");January 14, 1856 ("The crows are flitting about the houses and alight upon the elms."): January 23, 1852 ("The snow is so deep and the cold so intense that the crows are compelled to be very bold in seeking their food, and come very near the houses in the village."). Also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: The American Crow
We have completely forgotten the summer. See February 3, 1852 ("The landscape covered with snow two feet thick, . . .The scenery is wholly arctic. See if a man can think his summer thoughts now.");
February 9, 1851 ("We have forgotten summer and autumn. Though the days are much longer, the cold sets in stronger than ever.");February 27, 1852 (" We have almost completely forgotten summer."); December 29, 1853 ("The thoughts and associations of summer and autumn are now as completely departed from our minds as the leaves are blown from the trees. ")
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