Earth-song.

June 13.

Walk to Walden at night (moon not quite full) by railroad and upland wood-path, returning by Wayland road. The different frogs mark the seasons pretty well,- the peeping hyla, the dreaming frog, and the bullfrog. I believe that all may be heard at last occasionally together. The bullfrog belongs to summer. The tree-toad's, too, is a summer sound.

I hear partridges drumming to-night as late as 9 o'clock . What singularly space penetrating and filling sound! Why am I never nearer to its source?

I hear, just as the night sets in, faint notes from time to time from some sparrow falling asleep, - a vesper hymn - and later, in the woods, the chuckling, rattling sound of some unseen bird on the near trees.

As I climb the hill again toward my old bean-field I hear my old musical, simple-noted owl. Then, hearing at first some distinct chirps, I listen to the ancient, familiar, immortal, dear cricket sound under all others, and as these cease I become aware of the general earth-song.


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 13, 1851

The different frogs mark the seasons pretty well,- the peeping hyla, the dreaming frog, and the bullfrog. See June 9, 1853 ("So there is an evening for the toads and another for the bullfrogs.")

I become aware of the general earth-song. See June 1, 1856 (“Was soothed and cheered by I knew not what at first, but soon detected the now more general creak of crickets”); ; June 4, 1854 (“These warm and dry days, which put spring far behind, the sound of the cricket at noon has a new value and significance, so serene and cool . . ..”); June 17, 1852 (“The earth-song of the cricket! Before Christianity was, it is. Health! health! health! is the burden of its song. ”) See also note to June 4, 1857 ("One thing that chiefly distinguishes this season from three weeks ago is that fine serene undertone or earth-song as we go by sunny banks and hillsides, the creak of crickets, which affects our thoughts so favorably, imparting its own serenity.")

June 13. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, June 13

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 © 2009-2021