The year is but a succession of days,
and I see that I could assign some office to each day
which, summed up, would be the history of the year.
Henry Thoreau, August 24, 1852
The hazel is out
at this cold leafless season
greeting of the spring.
March 27, 2022
Uncle Charles died this morning, about midnight, aged seventy-six . . . The river is now open in reaches of twenty or thirty rods, where the ice has disappeared by melting. March 27, 1856
Walden is two-thirds broken up. It will probably be quite open by to-morrow night. March 27, 1851
The ducks sleep these nights in the shallowest water which does not freeze, and there may be found early in the morning. March 27, 1855
We land and steal over the hill through the woods, expecting to find them under Lee's Cliff, as indeed we do, having crawled over the hill through the woods on our stomachs; and there we watched various water-fowl for an hour. March 27, 1858
Scare up a flock of sheldrakes just off Fair Haven Hill, the conspicuous white ducks, sailing straight hither and thither. At first they fly low up the stream, but, having risen, come back half-way to us, then wheel and go up-stream. Soon after we scare up a flock of black ducks. March 27, 1858
Among them, or near by, I at length detect three or four whistlers, by their wanting the red bill, being considerably smaller and less white, having a white spot on the head, a black back, and altogether less white, and also keeping more or less apart and not diving when the rest do. March 27, 1858
Louis Minor tells me he saw some geese about the 23d. March 27 and 28, 1860
Farmer says that he heard geese go over two or three nights ago. March 27, 1857
Am surprised to see the cowslip so forward, showing so much green, in E. Hubbard’s Swamp, in the brook, where it is sheltered from the winds. The already expanded leaves rise above the water. If this is a spring growth, it is the most forward herb I have seen. March 27, 1855
There is an abundance of low willows whose catkins are now conspicuous, rising four to six or seven feet above the water, thickly placed on long wand-like osiers. They look, when you look from the sun, like dead gray twigs or branches (whose wood is exposed) of bushes in the light, but, nearer, are recognized for the pretty bright buttons of the willow. We sail by masses of these silvery buttons two or three rods long, rising above the water. March 27, 1859
By their color they have relation to the white clouds and the sky and to the snow and ice still lingering in a few localities. In order to see these silvery buttons in the greatest profusion, you must sail amid them on some flooded meadow or swamp like this. March 27, 1859
The hazel is fully out. The 23d was perhaps full early to date them. It is in some respects the most interesting flower yet, though so minute that only an observer of nature, or one who looked for them, would notice it. It is the highest and richest colored yet, –– ten or a dozen little rays at the end of the buds which are at the ends and along the sides of the bare stems. Some of the flowers are a light, some a dark crimson. The high color of this minute, unobserved flower, at this cold, leafless, and almost flowerless season! It is a beautiful greeting of the spring, when the catkins are scarcely relaxed and there are no signs of life in the bush. March 27, 1853
Twenty rods off, masses of alder in bloom look like masses of bare brown twigs, last year's twigs, and would be taken for such. March 27, 1859
Our whole course, as we wind about in this bay, is lined also with the alder, whose pretty tassels, now many of them in full bloom, are hanging straight down, suggesting in a peculiar manner the influence of gravity, or are regularly blown one side. It is remarkable how modest and unobtrusive these early flowers are. The musquash and duck hunter or the farmer might and do commonly pass by them without perceiving them. They steal into the air and light of spring without being noticed for the most part. The sportsman seems to see a mass of weather-stained dead twigs showing their wood and partly covered with gray lichens and moss, and the flowers of the alder, now partly in bloom, maybe half, make the impression at a little distance of a collection of the brown twigs of winter — also are of the same color with many withered leaves. March 27, 1859
Of our seven indigenous flowers which begin to bloom in March, four, i. e. the two alders, the aspen, and the hazel, are not generally noticed so early, if at all, and most do not observe the flower of a fifth, the maple. The first four are yellowish or reddish brown at a little distance, like the banks and sward moistened by the spring rain. March 27, 1859
The browns are the prevailing shades as yet, as in the withered grass and sedge and the surface of the earth, the withered leaves, and these brown flowers. March 27, 1859
Saw a hawk – probably marsh hawk – by meadow. March 27, 1854
See my frog hawk. (C. saw it about a week ago.) It is the hen-barrier, i.e. marsh hawk, male. Slate-colored; beating the bush; black tips to wings and white rump. March 27, 1855
Tried to see the faint-croaking frogs at J. P. Brown's Pond in the woods. They are remarkably timid and shy; had their noses and eyes out, croaking, but all ceased, dove, and concealed themselves, before I got within a rod of the shore. Stood perfectly still amid the bushes on the shore, before one showed himself; finally five or six, and all eyed me, gradually approached me within three feet to reconnoitre, and, though I waited about half an hour, would not utter a sound nor take their eyes off me, – were plainly affected by curiosity. March 27, 1853
Pickerel begin to dart in shallows. March 27, 1857
I see but one tortoise (Emys guttata) in Nut Meadow Brook now; the weather is too raw and gusty. March 27, 1853
See a wood tortoise in the brook. March 27, 1855
As I go up the Assabet, I see two Emys insculpta on the bank in the sun, and one picta. They are all rather sluggish, and I can paddle up and take them up. March 27, 1857
Hear a lark in that meadow. Twitters over it on quivering wing and awakes the slumbering life of the meadow. The turtle and frog peep stealthily out and see the first lark go over. March 27, 1857
But now chiefly there comes borne on the breeze the tinkle of the song sparrow along the riverside, and I push out into wind and current. March 27, 1857
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Alders
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: the Hazel
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Aspens
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, White Maple Buds and Flowers
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Osier in Winter and early Spring
A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring: the Cowslip
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Earliest Flower
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Pickerel
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Wood Turtle (Emys insculpta)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Painted Turtle (Emys picta)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Yellow-Spotted Turtle (Emys guttata)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Wood Frog (Rana sylvatica)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring: the Hawks of March
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the American Black Duck
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow (Fringilla melodia)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Lark in Early Spring
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-Out
*****
March 26, 1855 ("The lark sings, perched on the top of an apple tree, quite sweet and plaintive, contrasting with the cheerless season and the bleak meadow.")
March 26, 1857 ("The buds of the cowslip are very yellow, and the plant is not observed a rod off, it lies so low and close to the surface of the water in the meadow. It may bloom and wither there several times before villagers discover or suspect it")
March 26, 1860 ("The yellow sands of a lonely brook seen through the rippling water, with the shadows of the ripples like films passing over it.")
March 28, 1852 (" A yellow-spotted tortoise by the causeway side in the meadow near Hubbard's Bridge. ")
March 28, 1853 ("As near as I can make out, the hawks or falcons I am likely to see here are the American sparrow hawk, the fish hawk, the goshawk, the short-winged buzzard (if this is the same with Brown's stuffed sharp-shinned or slate-colored hawk, — not slate in his specimen; (is not this the common small hawk that soars ?), the red- tailed hawk (have we the red-shouldered hawk, about the same size and aspect with the last ?),the hen-harrier. (I suppose it is the adult of this with the slate-color over meadows.)
March 28, 1853 ("Saw eleven black ducks near the bathing-place on the Assabet, flying up the stream. . . . This is a raw, cloudy, and disagreeable day. Yet I think you are most likely to see wild fowl this weather")
March 28, 1855 ("A yellow-spotted tortoise in a still ditch, which has a little ice also. It at first glance reminds me of a bright freckled leaf, skunk-cabbage scape, perhaps. They are generally quite still at this season, or only slowly put their heads out (of their shells).")
March 26, 1857 (" As I go through the woods by Andromeda Ponds, though it is rather cool and windy in exposed places, I hear a faint, stertorous croak from a frog in the open swamp; at first one faint note only, which I could not be sure that I had heard, but, after listening long, one or two more suddenly croaked in confirmation of my faith, and all was silent again.")
March 28, 1857 ("The Emys guttata is found in brooks and ditches. I passed three to-day, lying cunningly quite motionless, with heads and feet drawn in, on the bank of a little grassy ditch, close to a stump, in the sun.")
March 28, 1858 ("After a cloudy morning, a warm and pleasant afternoon. I hear that a few geese were seen this morning.")
March 28, 1858 ("I look toward Fair Haven Pond, now quite smooth. There is not a duck nor a gull to be seen on it. I can hardly believe that it was so alive with them yesterday. Apparently they improve this warm and pleasant day, with little or no wind, to continue their journey northward. The strong and cold northwest wind of about a week past has probably detained them. Knowing that the meadows and ponds were swarming with ducks yesterday, you go forth this particularly pleasant and still day to see them at your leisure, but find that they are all gone. No doubt there are some left, and many more will soon come with the April rains. It is a wildlife that is associated with stormy and blustering weather.")
March 28, 1858 ("I hear the croaking frogs in the pool on the south side of Hubbard’s Grove. It is sufficiently warm for them at last. ")
March 28, 1859 ("The black, sheldrake, etc., move their wings rapidly, and remind you of paddle-wheel steamers . . . The meadows, which are still covered far and wide, are quite alive with black ducks . . . If you scan the horizon at this season of the year you are very likely to detect a small flock of dark ducks moving with rapid wing athwart the sky, or see the undulating line of migrating geese against the sky.")
March 27, 2020
If you make the least correct
observation of nature this year,
you will have occasion to repeat it
with illustrations the next,
and the season and life itself is prolonged.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, March 27
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 © 2009-2024
tinyurl.com/HDT27March
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