I walk with unbuttoned coat, taking in the influences of the hour.

December 3

December 3, 2011

P. M. — To Walden. 

A deliciously mild afternoon, though the ground is covered with snow. The cocks crowed this morning as of yore.

I carry hatchet and rake in order to explore the Pout’s Nest for frogs and fish, —the pond not being frozen. A small part of that chink of the 26th is not yet frozen, and is crowded with pollywogs, mostly of large size, and very many have legs more or less developed. 

With my small iron rake, about a foot long by four inches wide, I jerk on to the ice at one jerk forty five pollywogs, and more than as many more fall into the water. Many of the smallest pollywogs have bright copper-red bellies, prettily spotted, while the large are commonly pale-yellow, either clear or spotted. Many are dying. They have crowded so thickly along the open chink three or four inches wide by the side of a boat in the ice that, when I accidentally rock it, about a hundred are washed out on to the ice. 

One salamander among them, and four of the new breams, much larger, darker, and richer-colored than any I had found. 

I have often seen pollywogs in small numbers in the winter, in spring-holes, etc., but never such crowding to air-holes in the ice. All that is peculiar in this case is that this small pond has recently been cut off from the main pond by the falling of the water and that it is crowded with vegetable matter, chiefly target-weed, so that apparently the stagnant water has not only killed the breams and perch (of which last I find three dead) but many pollywogs, and compels others to seek the surface. 

As I return home by the Shanty Field and the railroad, I cannot help contrasting this evening with the 30th (on Fair Haven Hill-side). Now there is a genial, soft air, and in the west many clouds of purplish dove color. I walk with unbuttoned coat, taking in the influences of the hour. Coming through the pitch pines east of the Shanty Field, I see the sun through the pines very yellow and warm-looking, and every twig of the pines and every weed is lit with yellow light (not silvery). 

The other night the few cloudy islets about [the] setting sun (where it had set) were glitteringly bright afar through the cold air. Now (when I get to the causeway) all the west is suffused with an extremely rich, warm purple or rose-color, while the edges of what were dove-colored clouds have a warm saffron glow, finally deepening to rose or damask when the sun has set. The other night there was no reddening of the clouds after sunset, no afterglow, but the glittering clouds were almost immediately snapped up in the crisped air. 

I improve every opportunity to go into a grist-mill, any excuse to see its cobweb-tapestry. I put questions to the miller as an excuse for staying, while my eye rests delighted on the cobwebs above his head and per chance on his hat. 

The salamander above named, found in the water of the Pout’s Nest, is the Salamandra symmetrica It is some three inches long, brown (not dark-brown) above and yellow with small dark spots beneath, and the same spots on the sides of the tail; a row of very minute vermilion spots, not detected but on a close examination, on each side of the back; the tail is waved on the edge (upper edge, at least); has a pretty, bright eye. Its tail, though narrower, reminds me of the pollywog. Why should not it lose its tail as well as that?

The largest of the four breams (vide November 26th) two and nine twentieths inches long, by one inch broad and nine twentieths thick. The back, sides forward, tail, and anal fin black or blackish or very dark; the transverse dark bars few and indistinct except in middle of fish; sides toward tail yellowish-Olive. Rear of abdomen has violet reflections (and about base of anal fin). Operculums tinged, streaked, and spotted with golden, coppery, greenish, and violet reflections. A vertical dark mark or line, corresponding to the stripes, through the eye. Iris copper-color or darker. 

The others, about two inches long, are differently colored, not so dark, more olive, and distinctly barred. The smallest are the lightest-colored, but the larger on the whole richer, as well as darker. The fins, especially the dorsal, caudal, and anal, are remarkably pretty, in color a fine network of light and dark. The lower jaw extends about three fortieths of an inch beyond the upper. The rich dark, almost black, back, with dark-barred sides alternating with yellowish olive, and the fine violet purple reflections from the sides of the abdomen, like the nacre of a shell, as coin-like they lie flat in a basin, — such jewels they swam between the stems (clothed in transparent jelly) of the target-weed. 

R. W. E. saw quite a flock of ducks in the pond (Walden) this afternoon;

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 3, 1858

I have often seen pollywogs in small numbers in the winter, in spring-holes, etc., but never such crowding to air-holes in the ice. See December 21, 1857 ("They appear to keep in motion in such muddy pond-holes, where a spring wells up from the bottom till midwinter, if not all winter.”)

Four of the new breams, much larger, darker, and richer-colored than any I had found. See November 26, 1858 (" a great many minnows about one inch long . . . shaped like bream, but had the transverse bars of perch.”); November 27, 1858 ("I got seventeen more of those little bream of yesterday. “); November 30, 1858 (“How wild it makes the pond and the township to find a new fish in it!”)

The 30th (on Fair Haven Hill-side). . . .there was no reddening of the clouds after sunset, no afterglow, but the glittering clouds were almost immediately snapped up in the crisped air. See December 2, 1858 ("[November 30th] was at the same time the most brilliant of sunsets, the clearest and crispiest of winter skies."); November 30, 1858 ("At sunset, we saw a large, long, dusky cloud in the northwest horizon, apparently just this side of Wachusett, or at least twenty miles off, which was snowing, when all the rest was clear sky ") 

All the west is suffused with an extremely rich, warm purple or rose-color, while the edges of what were dove-colored clouds have a warm saffron glow, finally deepening to rose or damask when the sun has set. See December 14, 1852 ("Ah, who can tell the serenity and clarity of a New England winter sunset?"); See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Winter Sunsets

December 3. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, December 3

This mild afternoon

I walk with unbuttoned coat

taking in the the hour.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Taking in the influences of the hour

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-581203

I would gladly walk far in this stormy weather.

May 10

The third day of rain. The river has again gone over the meadows, which were almost bare. 


P. M. —To Walden in rain. 

Some Vaccinium Pennsylvanicum out in Cut woods; maybe a day, as it has rained steadily the last two days. It seems to bloom with or immediately after the bear-berry. 

I would gladly walk far in this stormy weather, for now I see and get near to large birds. Two quails whir away from the old shanty stubble-field, and two turtle doves go of from an apple tree with their clikit. Also at Walden shore a pigeon hawk (or else sharp shinned), with deep-brown back, went off from close at hand. 

I see there, just above the edge of the Pool in Hubbard’s Wood Path, the Viola blanda passing into the V. lanceolata, which last also is now in bloom, probably earlier there than in wetter places. May have been as early as the blanda. 

Where the pitch pines were cut some years ago on Thrush Alley, I now see birches, oaks, and pitch and white pines. 

On the railroad causeway against Trillium Wood, I see an apparently native willow, a shrub, with greenish bark and conspicuous yellow catkins, now in full bloom, apparently a little earlier than the Salix alba, but its leafets or bracts much less advanced and conspicuous. Another on the Walden road. What is it? 

Mr. Prichard’s Canada plum will open as soon as it is fair weather.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 10, 1856

Some Vaccinium Pennsylvanicum out in Cut woods; maybe a day. See May 10, 1855  ("Vaccinium Pennsylvanicum, early blueberry, in bloom; probably may shed pollen.")

The third day of rain. I would gladly walk far in this stormy weather for now I see and get near to large birds. See April 19, 1852 ("To see the larger and wilder birds, you must go forth in the great storms like this. . . To see wild life you must go forth at a wild season. When it rains and blows, keeping men indoors, then the lover of Nature must forth."): May 13, 1852 ("They who do not walk in the woods in the rain never behold them in their freshest, most radiant and blooming beauty.") See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Walking in the Rain

Just above the edge of the Pool in Hubbard’s Wood Path, the Viola blanda. See May 6, 1852 ("The first Viola blanda (sweet-scented white), in the moist ground . . . by this spring."). See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau the Violets

Where the pitch pines were cut some years ago on Thrush Alley. See April 28, 1856 ("Let me look at the site of some thick pine woods. . .and see what has sprung up.")

 On the railroad causeway against Trillium Wood, I see an apparently native willow,now in full bloom . . .apparently a little earlier than the Salix alba. See May 10, 1854 ("I perceive the sweetness of the willows on the causeway."); May 10, 1858 ("For some days the Salix alba have shown their yellow wreaths here and there, suggesting the coming of the yellowbird, and now they are alive with them");

 May 12, 1855 (" I perceive the fragrance of the Salix alba, now in bloom, more than an eighth of a mile distant. ");May 14, 1852 ("Going over the Corner causeway, the willow blossoms fill the air with a sweet fragrance, and I am ready to sing,"); June 6, 1856 ("That willow, male and female, opposite to Trillium Woods on the railroad, I find to be the Salix rostrata . . . one of the ochre-flowered . . . willows ."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Willows on the Causeway

Mr. Prichard’s Canada plum will open as soon as it is fair weather.  See May 5, 1855 ("Canada plum and cultivated cherry and Missouri currant look as if they would bloom to-morrow.”); May 7, 1860 ("Canada plum in full bloom, or say in prime. Also common plum in full bloom?");  May 8, 1858 ("Broke off a twig of Prichard's Canada plum in the evening, from which I judge that it may have opened to-day."); May 10, 1855 ("Canada plum opens petals to-day and leafs. Domestic plum only leafs.”); May 12, 1856 ("Prichard’s Canada plum will probably bloom to-morrow.”); May 14, 1855 (“Domestic plums open; some maybe yesterday.”)

May 10.  See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, May 10

The third day of rain –

I would gladly walk far in 

this stormy weather.

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 ©  2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-560510

You must attend to the birds in the spring.

June 11.

I hear the bobolink and the lark as I go down the railroad causeway. The cricket sings. The red-eye sings now in the woods, perhaps more than any other bird. (In the shanty field.) The mountains are misty and blue.  A robin sings and wood thrush amid the pine. The air in this pitch pine wood is filled with the hum of gnats, flies, and mosquitoes. The veery reminds me of the wood thrush in its note, as well as form and color. The oven-bird and the thrasher sing. The last has a sort of chuckle. 

You must attend to the birds in the spring.

Golden crowned thrush (oven-bird)

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 11, 1852