Saturday, April 30, 2016

A Book of the Seasons: April 30 (peepers, viburnum buds and leaf, gnats and swallows, blue horizons)

 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



A pleasant little
green knoll north of the Turnpike
near the Lincoln line.
April 30, 1852

A rock to sit on –
large and inviting – which you
do not fear to crush.

I saw in the east
the modest pale cloud-like moon
just over the woods.
April 30, 1852

The scream of a hawk
over Holden woods and swamp.
Those two men with guns.

Early afternoon
a fresh cool wind from the sea –
a mist in the air.

That blue butterfly
fluttering over dry leaves
in the sunny wood.



April 30, 2013

Cattle begin to go up-country, and every weekday, especially Mondays, . . .Now many a farmer's boy makes his first journey, and sees something to tell of, — makes acquaintance with those hills which are mere blue warts in his horizon. April 30, 1860

I learn that one farmer, seeing me standing a long time still in the midst of a pool (I was watching for hylodes), said that it was his father, who had been drinking some of Pat Haggerty's rum, and had lost his way home. So, setting out to lead him home, he discovered that it was I.

The season advances by fits and starts; you would not believe that there could be so many degrees to it. If you have had foul and cold weather, still some advance has been made, as you find when the fair weather comes, new lieferungs of warmth and summeriness, which make yesterday seem far off. April 30, 1852

Now is the time to set trees and consider what things you will plant in your garden. April 30, 1852

This first off-coat warmth just preceding the advent of the swamp warblers (parti-colored, red start, etc.) brings them out. I come here to listen for warblers, but hear or see only the black and white creeper and the chickadee. April 30, 1859

The viburnum buds are so large and long, like a spear-head, that they are conspicuous the moment their two leafets diverge and they are lit up by the sun. They unfold their wings like insects and arriving warblers. These, too, mark the season well. April 30, 1859

The Viburnum nudum around the edge of the swamp, on the northern edge of the warm bays in sunny and sheltered places, has just expanded, say two days, the two diverging leafets being an inch long nearly, — pretty yellowish-brown leafets in the sun, the most noticeable leafiness here now, just spotting and enlivening the dead, dark, bare twigs, under the red blossoms of the maples. April 30, 1859

I observe to-day the bright-crimson  perfect flowers of the maple, — crimson styles, sepals, and petals (crimson or scarlet ?) . . . So much color have they. April 30, 1852

I notice under the southern edge of the Holden Wood, on the Arrowhead Field, a great many little birches in the grass, apparently seedlings of last year, and I take up a hundred and ten from three to six or seven inches high. They are already leafed, the little rugose leafets more than half an inch wide, or larger than any wild shrubs or trees, while the larger white birches have not started. I could take up a thousand in two or three hours. I set ten in our yard April 30, 1859

The elms are now generally in blossom and Cheney's elm still also. April 30, 1852

The larch plucked yesterday sheds pollen to-day in house, probably to-day abroad. April 30, 1857

A small willow some ten rods north of stone bridge, east side, bloomed yesterday. Salix alba leafing, or stipules a quarter of an inch wide; probably began a day or two. April 30, 1859

The early willow by Hubbard’s Bridge has not begun to leaf. This would make it a different species from that by railroad, which has. April 30,1855

Crowfoot and saxifrage are now in prime at Lee’s; they yellow and whiten the ground. April 30, 1855

Columbine just out; one anther sheds. April 30,1855

The sweet gale is in blossom. The female plants of the sweet-gale are rare here. The scales of the male catkins are "set with amber-colored resinous dots” April 30, 1852

I hear a wood thrush here, with a fine metallic ring to his note. This sound most adequately expresses the immortal beauty and wildness of the woods. I go in search of him. He sounds no nearer. On a low bough of a small maple near the brook in the swamp, he sits with ruffled feathers, singing more low or with less power, as it were ventriloquizing; for though I am scarcely more than a rod off, he seems further off than ever. April 30, 1852

I hear the first brown thrasher singing within three or four rods of me on the shrubby hill side in front of the Hadley place. This, I think, is the very place to hear them early, a dry hillside sloping to the south, covered with young wood and shrub oaks. April 30, 1856

Surveying seemed a noble employment which brought me within hearing of this bird. I was trying to get the exact course of a wall thickly beset with shrub oaks and birches, making an opening through them with axe and knife, while the hillside seemed to quiver or pulsate with the sudden melody. Again, it is with the side of the ear that you hear. The music or the beauty belong not to your work itself but some of its accompaniments. You would fain devote yourself to the melody, but you will hear more of it if you devote yourself to your work. April 30, 1856

Cutting off the limbs of a young white pine in the way of my compass,. . . By the time I have run through to the Harvard road, I hear the small pewee’s tche-vet’ repeatedly.April 30, 1856

Measuring along the river just south of the bridge, I was surprised by the great number of swallows—white-bellied and barn swallows and perhaps republican — flying round and round, or skimming very low over the meadow. .There were a thousand or more of swallows, and I think that they had recently arrived together on their migration. April 30, 1856

I observed yesterday that the barn swallows confined themselves to one place, about fifteen rods in diameter, in Willow Bay, about the sharp rock. They kept circling about and flying up the stream (the wind easterly), about six inches above the water, — it was cloudy and almost raining, — yet I could not perceive any insects there. April 30, 1855


It is a day for many small fuzzy gnats and other small insects. Insects swarm about the expanding buds. April 30, 1859

Those myriads of little fuzzy gnats mentioned on the 21st and 28th must afford an abundance of food to insectivorous birds. Many new birds should have arrived about the 21st. April 30, 1855

There were plenty of myrtle-birds and yellow redpolls where the gnats were. . . .Hear a short, rasping note, somewhat tweezer-bird like, I think from a yellow redpoll. April 30, 1855 April 30, 1855

That interesting small blue butterfly (size of small red) is apparently just out, fluttering over the warm dry oak leaves within the wood in the sun. Channing also first sees them to-day. The moment it rests and closes its wings, it looks merely whitish-slate, and you think at first that the deeper blue was produced by the motion of its wings, but the fact is you now see only their undersides which thus [sic] whitish spotted with black, with a dark waved line next the edge. April 30, 1859

Hear a kingfisher at Goose Pond. April 30, 1857

As we stood looking for a bound by the edge of Goose Pond, a pretty large hawk alighted on an oak close by us. It probably has a nest near by and was concerned for its young. April 30, 1857

I hear from far the scream of a hawk circling over the Holden woods and swamp. This accounts for those two men with guns just entering it. What a dry, shrill, angry scream! I see the bird with my glass resting upon the topmost plume of a tall white pine. Its back, reflecting the light, looks white in patches; and now it circles again. It is a red-tailed hawk. The tips of its wings are curved upward as it sails. April 30, 1855

Hear again the same bird heard at Conantum April 18th, which I think must be the ruby-crowned wren. April 30, 1857

Red-wing blackbirds now fly in large flocks, covering the tops of trees—willows, maples, apples, or oaks—like a black fruit , and keep up an incessant gurgling and whistling, — all for some purpose; what is it? April 30, 1855

I see the black feathers of a blackbird by the Miles Swamp side, and this single bright-scarlet one shows that it belonged to a red wing, which some hawk or quadruped devoured. April 30, 1855

I find a Fringilla melodia nest with five eggs. Part, at least, must have been laid before the snow of the 27th, but it is perfectly sheltered under the shelving turf and grass on the brink of a ditch. The snow would not even have touched the bird sitting on them. April 30, 1858

I saw yesterday a large-sized water-bug; to day many in the brook; yesterday a trout; to-day shiners, I think. April 30, 1852

I hear now on various sides, along the river and its meadows, that low, stertorous sound, like that of the Rana halecina, – which I have heard occasionally for a few days. . . . It is exceedingly like the note of the R. halecina, yet I fancy it is some what more softly purring, with frequently a low quivering, chuckling, or inquisitive croak,  . . . I suspect it is the R. palustris, now breeding. April 30, 1858

Caught three little peeping frogs. When I approached, and my shadow fell on the water, I heard a peculiarly trilled and more rapidly vibrated note. It proved to be two coupled. They remained together in my hand. This sound has connection with their loves probably. April 30, 1852


A pleasant little green knoll north of the Turnpike near the Lincoln line. April 30, 1852

I saw unexpectedly . . . the blue mountains' line in the west (the whole intermediate earth and towns being concealed), this greenish field for a foreground sloping upward a few rods, and then those grand mountains seen over it in the background, so blue, — seashore, earth-shore, — and, warm as it is, covered with snow which reflected the sun. April 30, 1852

I like very well to walk here on the low ground on the meadow; to see the churches and houses in the horizon against the sky and the now very blue Mt. Wachusett seeming to rise from amid them. April 30, 1852

Hosmer's house and cottage under its elms and on the summit of green smooth slopes looks like a terrestrial paradise, the abode of peace and domestic happiness. April 30, 1852

On the hill behind Hosmer's, half an hour before sunset --The robins sing power fully on the elms; the little frogs peep; the woodpecker's harsh and long-continued cry is heard from the woods; the huckleberry-bird's simple, sonorous trill. April 30, 1852

Then when I turned, I saw in the east, just over the woods, the modest, pale, cloud-like moon, two thirds full, looking spirit-like on these daylight scenes. Such a sight excites me. The earth is worthy to inhabit. April 30, 1852

Here is a rock made to sit on, — large and inviting, which you do not fear to crush. April 30, 1852

*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau The world can never be more beautiful than now.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The first frogs to begin calling
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Rana palustris Pickerel frog (Lithobates palustris)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau The Blue Butterfly in Spring
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Red Maple
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The hen-hawk
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Red-wing in Early Spring
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the ruby-crowned or crested wren
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Larch
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the “Small Pewee”
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Field Sparrow
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow (Fringilla melodia)
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April Moonlight

*****


Cattle begin to go up-country. See May 10, 1852 ("This Monday the streets are full of cattle being driven up-country, — cows and calves and colts."); May 6, 1855 ("Road full of cattle going up country.”); May 7, 1856 ("For a week the road has been full of cattle going up country.")


Standing a long time still in the midst of a pool watching for hylodes. See April 18, 1858 ("All that is required in studying them is patience"); and note to March 27, 1853 ("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.")

The season advances by fits and starts. . . lieferungs of warmth and summeriness, which make yesterday seem far off and the dog-days or midsummer incredibly nearer. See April 25, 1854 ("The summer approaches by almost insensibly increasing lieferungs of heat, each awakening some new bird or quadruped or reptile.")

So much color have they. See April 29, 1856 ("How pretty a red maple in bloom (they are now in prime), seen in the sun against a pine wood, . . . they are of so cheerful and lively a color."); April 29, 1859 ("Those red maples are reddest in which the fertile flowers prevail.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Red Maple

The sweet gale is in blossom. Its rich reddish-brown buds have expanded into yellowish and brown blossoms, all male blossoms that I see. See April 13, 1860 ("– I go up the Assabet to look at the sweet-gale, which is . . . abundantly out at Pinxter Swamp."); April 22, 1855 ("The blossoms of the sweet-gale are now on fire over the brooks, contorted like caterpillars.") December 31, 1859 ("The oblong-conical sterile flower-buds or catkins of the sweet-gale, half a dozen at the end of each black twig, dark-red, oblong-conical, spotted with black, and about half an inch long, are among the most interesting buds of the winter. . . . The sterile and fertile flowers are not only on distinct plants, but they commonly grow in distinct patches. . . . It grows along the wet edge of banks and the river and in open swamps.")

It is a red-tailed hawk. See May 1, 1855 ("He [Garfield] climbed the tree when I was there yesterday afternoon, the tallest white pine or other tree in its neighborhood, over a swamp, and found two young, which he thought not more than a fortnight old,—with only down, at least no feathers,—and one addled egg, also three or four white-bellied or deer mouse (Mus leucopus), a perch, and a sucker, and a gray rabbit’s skin. . . . I found the remains of a partridge under the tree.”). See also March 2, 1856 ("I can hardly believe that hen-hawks may be beginning to build their nests now, yet their young were a fortnight old the last of April last year.”); March 15, 1860 ("These hawks, as usual, began to be common about the first of March, showing that they were returning from their winter quarters. . . . An easily recognized figure anywhere.”); March 23, 1859 (“. . .we saw a hen-hawk perch on the topmost plume of one of the tall pines at the head of the meadow. Soon another appeared, probably its mate, but we looked in vain for a nest there. It was a fine sight, their soaring above our heads, presenting a perfect outline and, as they came round, showing their rust-colored tails with a whitish rump, or, as they sailed away from us, that slight teetering or quivering motion of their dark-tipped wings seen edgewise, now on this side, now that, by which they balanced and directed themselves.”); April 22, 1860 ("See now hen-hawks, a pair, soaring high as for pleasure, circling ever further and further away, as if it were midsummer. . . . I do not see it soar in this serene and leisurely manner very early in the season, methinks"); April 30, 1857 ("a pretty large hawk alighted on an oak close by us. It probably has a nest near by and was concerned for its young.”); May 4, 1855 ("Red tail hawk young fourteen days old."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau ,The hen-hawk

It probably has a nest near by . See note to April 30, 1855 ( It must have a nest there.“)

Red-wing blackbirds now fly in large flocks, covering the tops of trees—willows, maples, apples, or oaks—like a black fruit. See March 16, 1860 ("They cover the apple trees like a black fruit.”); May 5, 1859 ("Red-wings fly in flocks yet."); see also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Red-wing in Early Spring

Hear a kingfisher at Goose Pond. See April 23, 1854 (“A kingfisher with his crack, — cr-r-r-rack.”); April 24, 1854 ("The kingfisher flies with a crack cr-r-r-ack and a limping or flitting flight from tree to tree before us . . .”)

Hear again the same bird heard at Conantum April 18th, which I think must be the ruby-crowned wren. See April 26, 1860 ("Hear the ruby-crowned wren in the morning, near George Heywood’s.”); May 6, 1855 ("Hear at a distance a ruby(?)-crowned wren, so robin-like and spirited. After see one within ten . . . feet of me as if curious. I think this the only Regulus I have ever seen.”); see also note to April 20, 1859 ("My ruby-crowned or crested wren”). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: the ruby-crowned or crested wren. and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Winter Birds

I hear the first brown thrasher singing. See May 12, 1855 (“The brown thrasher is a powerful singer; he is a quarter of a mile off across the river, when he sounded within fifteen rods.”); May 13, 1855 ("Now, about two hours before sunset, the brown thrashers are particularly musical. One seems to be contending in song with another.")

Again, it is with the side of the ear that you hear. . . . you will hear more of it if you devote yourself to your work. See November 20, 1851 ("Hard and steady and engrossing labor with the hands, especially out of doors, is invaluable to the literary man and serves him directly. Here I have been for six days surveying in the woods, and yet when I get home at evening, somewhat weary at last, and beginning to feel that I have nerves, I find myself more susceptible than usual to the finest influences, as music and poetry. The very air can intoxicate me, or the least sight or sound, as if my finer senses had acquired an appetite by their fast."); May 12, 1857 (“Methinks I hear these sounds, have these reminiscences, only when well employed. . . I am often aware of a certain compensation of this kind for doing something from a sense of duty, even unconsciously.”); April 28, 1856 ("I am reminded of the advantage to the poet, and philosopher, and naturalist, and whomsoever, of pursuing from time to time some other business than his chosen one, — seeing with the side of the eye. The poet will so get visions which no deliberate abandonment can secure. The philosopher is so forced to recognize principles which long study might not detect. And the naturalist even will stumble upon some new and unexpected flower or animal.”); December 11, 1855 ("Beauty and music are not mere traits and exceptions. They are the rule and character. It is the exception that we see and hear. “); June 14, 1853 (“You see those rare sights with the unconscious side of the eye, which you could not see by a direct gaze before.”); November 18, 1851 ("A man can hardly be said to be there if he knows that he is there, or to go there if he knows where he is going. The man who is bent upon his work is frequently in the best attitude to observe what is irrelevant to his work.”)

The larch plucked yesterday sheds pollen to-day. See April 27, 1856 (The female flowers are now fully expanded and very pretty, but small. I think it will first scatter pollen to-morrow. ");April 29, 1855 ("The crimson female flowers are now handsome but small. ") and note to May 1, 1856 ("I judge that the larch blossomed ...”). See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Larch

Great number of swallows . . .flying round and round. See April 30, 1855 ("circling about and flying . . .about six inches above the water, — it was cloudy and almost raining”); April 29, 1854 (" The barn swallows are very numerous, flying low over the water in the rain.”)

I hear the small pewee’s tche-vet’ repeatedly. See e.g. May 3, 1854 ("What I have called the small pewee on the willow by my boat, — quite small, uttering a short tchevet from time to time.”); May 3, 1855 ("Small pewee; tchevet, with a jerk of the head.”); May 7, 1852 ("The first small pewee sings now che-vet, or rather chirrups chevet, tche-vet — a rather delicate bird with a large head and two white bars on wings.) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,the “Small Pewee" [Empidonax minimus]

The huckleberry-bird sings. See April 27, 1852 ("Heard the field or rush sparrow this morning (Fringilla juncorum), George Minott's "huckleberry-bird." It sits on a birch and sings at short intervals, apparently answered from a distance. It is clear and sonorous heard afar; but I found it quite impossible to tell from which side it came; sounding like phe, phe, phe, pher-pher-tw-tw-tw-t-t-t-t, — the first three slow and loud, the next two syllables quicker, and the last part quicker and quicker, becoming a clear, sonorous trill or rattle, like a spoon in a saucer.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Field Sparrow

I find a Fringilla melodia nest with five eggs. See June 14, 1855 ("A song sparrow’s nest in ditch bank under Clamshell, of coarse grass lined with fine, and five eggs nearly hatched and a peculiar dark end to them."); June 9, 1855 ("A song sparrow’s nest low in Wheeler’s meadow, with five eggs, made of grass lined with hair."); May 27, 1856 ("Fringilla melodia’s nest in midst of swamp, with four eggs, made partly of usnea; . . . eggs with very dark blotches"); May 31, 1856 (“A ground-bird’s nest (melodia or graminea.), with six of those oblong narrow gray eggs speckled with much brown at end. ") See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow (Fringilla melodia)

It is some what more softly purring, with frequently a low quivering, chuckling, or inquisitive croak. See May 23, 1856 ("The ring of toads is loud and incessant. . . .At the same time I hear a low, stertorous, dry, but hard-cored note from some frog in the meadows and along the riverside; often heard in past years but not accounted for. Is it a Rana palustris?"); May 8. 1857 ("It is an evening for the soft-snoring, purring frogs (which I suspect to be Rana palustris). . . . Their croak is very fine or rapid, and has a soft, purring sound at a little distance.") A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Rana palustris Pickerel frog (Lithobates palustris)

That interesting small blue butterfly fluttering over the warm dry oak leaves within the wood in the sun. See note to April 19, 1860 ("See the small blue butterfly hovering over the dry leaves")

To see the churches and houses in the horizon against the sky and the now very blue Mt. Wachusett seeming to rise from amid them. See December 27, 1853 ("The outline of the mountains is wonderfully distinct and hard, and they are a dark blue and very near. Wachusett looks like a right whale over our bow, plowing the continent, with his flukes well down.")

On the hill behind Hosmer's, half an hour before sunset --See May 17, 1853 ("Ah, the beauty of this last hour of the day — when a power stills the air and smooths all waters and all minds — that partakes of the light of the day and the stillness of the night")

Then when I turned, I saw in the east, just over the woods, the modest, pale, cloud-like moon, two thirds full, looking spirit-like on these daylight scenes. See June 30, 1852 (" Moon nearly full; rose a little before sunset. . . . At first a mere white cloud."); See also April 12, 1851 (" I realize that I may not see her again in her glory this night, that. . . the sun will have risen, and she will appear but as a cloud herself, and sink unnoticed into the west.")



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
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April 30
"A book, each page written in its own season,
out-of-doors, in its own locality.”
~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2022 
at No comments:
Labels: , ,

Hearing with the side of the ear.

April 30

June 30, 2017

Surveying the Tommy Wheeler farm. A fine morning. 

 I hear the first brown thrasher singing within three or four rods of me on the shrubby hill side in front of the Hadley place. I think I had a glimpse of one darting down from a sapling-top into the bushes as I rode by the same place on the morning of the 28th. This, I think, is the very place to hear them early, a dry hillside sloping to the south, covered with young wood and shrub oaks. 

 I am the more attracted to that house as a dwelling-place. To live where you would hear he first brown thrasher! First, perchance, you have a glimpse of one’s ferruginous long brown back, instantly lost amid the shrub oaks, and are uncertain if it was a thrasher, or one of the other thrushes; and your uncertainty lasts commonly a day or two, until its rich and varied strain is heard. 

 Surveying seemed a noble employment which brought me within hearing of this bird. I was trying to get the exact course of a wall thickly beset with shrub oaks and birches, making an opening through them with axe and knife, while the hillside seemed to quiver or pulsate with the sudden melody. 

 Again, it is with the side of the ear that you hear. The music or the beauty belong not to your work itself but some of its accompaniments. You would fain devote yourself to the melody, but you will hear more of it if you devote yourself to your work. 

 Cutting off the limbs of a young white pine in the way of my compass, I find that it strips freely. How long this? By the time I have run through to the Harvard road, I hear the small pewee’s tche-vet’ repeatedly.

 The Italian with his hand-organ stops to stare at my compass, just as the boys are curious about. his machine. We have exchanged places. 

 As I go along the Assabet, a peetweet skims away from the shore. 

 The canoe birch sap still flows. It is much like that of the white, and is now pink, white, and yellow on the bark. 

 Bluets out on the bank by Tarbell’s spring brook, maybe a day or two.

 This was a very warm as well as pleasant day, but at one o’clock there was the usual fresh easterly wind and sea-turn, and before night it grew quite cold for the season. The regularity of the recurrence of this phenomenon is remarkable. I have noticed it, at least, on the 24th late in the day, the 28th and the 29th about 3 P. M., and to-day at 1 P. M. It has been the order. 

 Early in the afternoon, or between one and four, the wind changes (I suppose, though I did not notice its direction in the forenoon), and a fresh cool wind from the sea produces a mist in the air. 

 About 3.30 P. M., when it was quite cloudy as well as raw, and I was measuring along the river just south of the bridge, I was surprised by the great number of swallows—white-bellied and barn swallows and perhaps republican — flying round and round, or skimming very low over the meadow, just laid bare, only a foot above the ground. 

 Either from the shape of the hollow or their circling, they seemed to form a circular flock three or four rods in diameter and one swallow, deep. There were two or three of these centres and some birds equally low over the river. It looked like rain, but did not rain that day or the next. Probably their insect food was flying at that height over the meadow at that time. 

 There were a thousand or more of swallows, and I think that they had recently arrived together on their migration. Only this could account for there being so many together. We were measuring through one little circular meadow, and many of them were not driven off by our nearness. The noise of their wings and their twittering was quite loud.

 H. D. Thoreau, Journal,  April 30, 1856
You have a glimpse of one’s ferruginous long brown back, instantly lost amid the shrub oaks, and are uncertain if it was a thrasher; and your uncertainty lasts commonly a day or two, until its rich and varied strain is heard.  See May 12, 1855 (“The brown thrasher is a powerful singer; he is a quarter of a mile off across the river, when he sounded within fifteen rods.”); May 13, 1855 ("Now, about two hours before sunset, the brown thrashers are particularly musical. One seems to be contending in song with another.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Brown Thrasher

Again, it is with the side of the ear that you hear. . . . you will hear more of it if you devote yourself to your work. See  November 20, 1851 ("Hard and steady and engrossing labor with the hands, especially out of doors, is invaluable to the literary man and serves him directly. Here I have been for six days surveying in the woods, and yet when I get home at evening, somewhat weary at last, and beginning to feel that I have nerves, I find myself more susceptible than usual to the finest influences, as music and poetry. The very air can intoxicate me, or the least sight or sound, as if my finer senses had acquired an appetite by their fast."); May 12, 1857 (“Methinks I hear these sounds, have these reminiscences, only when well employed. . . I am often aware of a certain compensation of this kind for doing something from a sense of duty, even unconsciously.”); April 28, 1856 ("I am reminded of the advantage to the poet, and philosopher, and naturalist, and whomsoever, of pursuing from time to time some other business than his chosen one, — seeing with the side of the eye. The poet will so get visions which no deliberate abandonment can secure. The philosopher is so forced to recognize principles which long study might not detect. And the naturalist even will stumble upon some new and unexpected flower or animal.”); December 11, 1855 ("Beauty and music are not mere traits and exceptions. They are the rule and character. It is the exception that we see and hear. “); June 14, 1853 (“You see those rare sights with the unconscious side of the eye, which you could not see by a direct gaze before.”); November 18, 1851 ("A man can hardly be said to be there if he knows that he is there, or to go there if he knows where he is going. The man who is bent upon his work is frequently in the best attitude to observe what is irrelevant to his work.”)

I hear the small pewee’s tche-vet’ repeatedly.  See . May 3, 1854 ("What I have called the small pewee on the willow by my boat, — quite small, uttering a short tchevet from time to time.”); May 3, 1855 ("Small pewee; tchevet, with a jerk of the head.”); May 7, 1852 ("The first small pewee sings now che-vet, or rather chirrups chevet, tche-vet — a rather delicate bird with a large head and two white bars on wings.) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, ,the “Small Pewee" [Empidonax minimus]

Early in the afternoon the wind changes and a fresh cool wind from the sea produces a mist in the air. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Sea-turn

Great number of swallows . . . flying round and round. . .See April 30, 1855 ("circling about and flying . . . about six inches above the water, — it was cloudy and almost raining”); April 29, 1854 (" The barn swallows are very numerous, flying low over the water in the rain.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White-bellied Swallow

Early afternoon
a fresh cool wind from the sea –
a mist in the air.
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/hdt-560430


at No comments:
Labels: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Friday, April 29, 2016

A Book of the Seasons: April 29 (the art of life, sailing, swallows, damdelions, red maples in flower, interrupted ferns, early leaf-out)


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


A poet's life.

The art of life – not
having anything to do –
is to do something.

Mottled light and shade
seen looking into the woods
is more like summer.

April 29, 2012

Was awakened early this morning by thunder and some rain, — the second thunder-shower of the season. April 29, 1856 

This morning it snows, but the ground is not yet whitened. This will probably take the cold out of the air. April 29, 1855

A little snow still lies in the road in one place, the relic of the snow of the 21st. April 29, 1857 

The art of life, of a poet's life, is, not having anything to do, to do something. April 29, 1852

Discover a hawk over my head by his shadow on the ground. April 29, 1852

At mid forenoon saw a fish hawk flying leisurely over the house northeasterly. April 29, 1856 

It was quite warm when I first came out, but about 3 P. M. I felt a fresh easterly wind, and saw quite a mist in the distance produced by it, a sea-turn.  April 29, 1856 

What an entertainment this river affords! . . .  Let it rain heavily one whole day, and the river will be increased from half a dozen rods in width to nearly a mile in some places, and, where I walked dry-shod yesterday a-maying, I sail with a smacking breeze to-day, and fancy that I am a sailor on the ocean. April 29, 1854

The sun is in my face, and the waves look particularly lively and sparkling. I can steer and write at the same time. They gurgle under my stern, in haste to fill the hollow which I have created. The waves seem to leap and roll like porpoises, with a slight surging sound when their crests break, and I feel an agreeable sense that I am swiftly gliding over and through them, bound on my own errands, while their motion is chiefly but an undulation, and an apparent one. April 29, 1856

It is pleasant, exhilarating, to feel the boat tossed up a little by them from time to time. . . . It is flattering to a sense of power to make the wayward wind our horse and sit with our hand on the tiller. Sailing is much like flying, and from the birth of our race men have been charmed by it. April 29, 1856

Off the Cliffs, I meet a blue heron flying slowly down stream. He flaps slowly and heavily, his long, level, straight and sharp bill projecting forward, then his keel-like neck doubled up, and finally his legs thrust out straight behind. He alights on a rock, and stands erect awhile. April 29, 1854

Paddling slowly along, I see five or six snipes within four or five rods, feeding on the meadow just laid bare, or in the shallow and grassy water. . . . At length they take a little alarm and rise with a sort of rippling whistle or peep, a little like a robin’s peep, but faint and soft, and then alight within a dozen rods. April 29, 1855

The barn swallows are very numerous, flying low over the water in the rain. April 29, 1854

Barn swallows and chimney, with white-bellied swallows, are flying together over the river. April 29, 1856

I see a woodchuck . .. I see his shining black eyes and black snout and his little erect ears.

At the Second Division Brook the cowslip is in blossom. April 29, 1852

Viola ovata will open to-morrow. April 29, 1855

Dandelions out yesterday, at least. April 29, 1855

First observe the dandelion well out in R. W. E.'s yard. April 29, 1859

At Tarbell's watering-place, see a dandelion, its conspicuous bright-yellow disk in the midst of a green space on the moist bank. It seems a sudden and decided progress in the season. April 29, 1857

Garfield's folks used them for greens . They grew in a springy place behind Brigham' s in the Corner. April 29, 1852

The mouse-ear is now fairly in blossom in many places. It never looks so pretty as now in an April rain, covered with pearly drops.  April 29, 1854

How pretty a red maple in bloom (they are now in prime), seen in the sun against a pine wood, like these little ones in the swamp against the neighboring wood, they are so light and ethereal, not a heavy mass of color impeding the passage of the light, and they are of so cheerful and lively a color. April 29, 1856

Those red maples are reddest in which the fertile flowers prevail. April 29, 1859

Choke-cherry begins to leaf. April 29, 1855

Some young alders begin to leaf. April 29, 1855

Some birch sprouts in the swamp are leafed as much as any shrub or tree. April 29, 1856

Mountain-ash began to leaf, say yesterday. Makes a show with leaves alone before any tree. April 29, 1855

For two or three days the Salix alba, with its catkins (not yet open) and its young leaves, or bracts (?), has made quite a show, before any other tree, —a pyramid of tender yellowish green in the russet landscape. April 29, 1855

The white cedar now sheds pollen abundantly. . . .I strike a twig, and its peculiar pinkish pollen fills the air. April 29, 1856

A few of the cones within reach on F. Monroe’s larches shed pollen; say, then, yesterday. The crimson female flowers are now handsome but small. April 29, 1855

J Monroe’s larch staminate buds have now erected and separated their anthers, and they look somewhat withered, as if they had shed a part of their pollen. If so, they began yesterday. April 29, 1856

Near the little larch, scared a small dark-brown hawk from an apple tree, which flew off low to another apple tree beside Barrett’s Pond. Just before he flew again I saw with my glass that his tail was barred with white. Must it not be a pigeon hawk then?. . . I think I have not described this white—barred hawk before. April 29, 1856.

I am surprised to see how some blackberry pastures and other fields are filling up with pines, . . . so that what was then a pasture is now a young wood-lot. April 29, 1857

On the pitch pines beyond John Hosmer's, I see old cones within two feet of the ground on the trunk, — sometimes a circle of them around it, — which must have been formed on the young tree some fifteen years ago. April 29, 1857

The scrolls of the interrupted fern are already four or five inches high. April 29, 1855

Interrupted fern scrolls there, four to five inches high. April 29, 1859

Sweet-fern at entrance of Ministerial Swamp. April 29, 1857

I heard yesterday at Ledum Swamp the lively, sweet, yet somewhat whimsical note of the ruby crowned wren, and had sight of him a moment. April 29, 1858

A partridge there drums incessantly. C. says it makes his heart beat with it, or he feels it in his breast. April 29, 1857

See and hear a black and white creeper. April 29, 1859

Purple finch sings on R. W. E.'s trees. April 29, 1857

Observe two thrushes arrived that I do not know. April 29, 1852

The pine warbler is heard very much now at mid day, when already most birds are quiet. It must be the female which has so much less yellow beneath. April 29, 1856

Many chip-birds are feeding in the yard, and one bay-wing. . . . It is rather better concealed by its color than the chip bird with its chestnut crown and light breast. April 29, 1855

A pigeon woodpecker alights on a dead cedar top near me. Its cackle, thus near, sounds like eh eh eh eh eh, etc., rapidly and emphatically repeated. April 29, 1856

A steel-blue-black flattish beetle, which, handled, imparted a very disagreeable carrion-like scent to fingers. April 29, 1857

The butterflies are now more numerous, red and blue-black or dark velvety. April 29, 1852

I see great devil’s-needles whiz by, coupled. April 29, 1856

Do not the toads ring most on a windy day like this? April 29, 1856

Noticed a man killing, on the sidewalk by Minott's, a little brown snake with blackish marks along each side of back and a pink belly. Was it not the Coluber amaenus? April 29, 1858

The pines have an appearance they have not worn before, yet not easy to describe. The mottled sunlight and shade, seen looking into the woods, is more like summer. April 29, 1852

Coming home over the Corner road, the sun, now getting low, is reflected very bright and silvery from the water on the meadows, seen through the pines of Hubbard's Grove. April 29, 1852


April 29, 2012

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Spring Leaf-Out

The art of life, not having anything to do, is to do something. See September 8, 1858 ("It is good policy to be stirring about your affairs, for the reward of activity and energy is that if you do not accomplish the object you had professed to yourself, you do accomplish something else.”); December 29, 1841 ("One does not soon learn the trade of life. That one may work out a true life requires more art and delicate skill than any other work.") and note to September 7, 1851: ("I do not remember any page which will tell me how to spend this afternoon.”)


Discover a hawk over my head by his shadow on the ground. See September 27, 1857 ("I see the shadow of a hawk flying above and behind me.”)

J. Monroe’s larch staminate buds have now erected and separated their anthers. / April 29, 1855 ("A few of the cones within reach on F. Monroe’s larches shed pollen; say, then, yesterday. The crimson female flowers are now handsome but small. See;April 23, 1855 ("The anthers of the larch are conspicuous, but I see no pollen. White cedar to-morrow.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Larch in Spring

At the Second Division Brook [o]bserve two thrushes arrived that I do not know. See note to April 24, 1856 ("Returning, in the low wood just this side the first Second Division Brook, near the meadow, see a brown bird flit, and behold my hermit thrush, with one companion, flitting silently through the birches”)

The white cedar now sheds pollen abundantly. Probably it began as much as three days ago. I strike a twig, and its peculiar pinkish pollen fills the air. See April 26, 1857 ("The white cedar is apparently just out.") ; April 26, 1856 ("The white cedar gathered the 23d does not shed pollen in house till to-day, and I doubt if it will in swamp before to-morrow."); April 24, 1855 ("The [pollen] of the white cedar is very different, being a faint salmon.”); 

 Sailing is much like flying, and from the birth of our race men have been charmed by it. See July 29, 1851 ("The sailboat is an admirable invention, by which you compel the wind to transport you even against itself. It is easier to guide than a horse; the slightest pressure on the tiller suffices. I think the inventor must have been greatly surprised, as well as delighted, at the success of his experiment.”)

See a dandelion, its conspicuous bright-yellow disk in the midst of a green space on the moist bank. / First observe the dandelion well out in R. W. E.'s yard See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Dandelion in Spring

I see a woodchuck on the side of Lupine Hill. See April 2, 1858 (“At Hubbard’s Grove I see a woodchuck. He waddles to his hole and then puts out his gray nose within thirty feet to reconnoitre.); April 30, 1855 (“The woodchuck has. . . exactly that peculiar rank scent which I perceive in a menagerie.”); April 12, 1855 (“For a week past I have frequently seen the tracks of woodchucks in the sand. ”); May 30, 1859 ("When I entered the interior meadow of Gowing's Swamp I heard a slight snort, and found that I had suddenly come upon a woodchuck")

C. says it makes his heart beat with it, or he feels it in his breast. See April 25, 1854 ("The first partridge drums in one or two places, as if the earth's pulse now beat audibly with the increased flow of life. It slightly flutters all Nature and makes her heart palpitate.”) See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Partridge

Heard yesterday at Ledum Swamp the lively, sweet, yet somewhat whimsical note of the ruby crowned wren.  See April 25, 1854 (“A very interesting and active little fellow, darting about amid the tree-tops, and his song quite remarkable and rich and loud for his size. Begins with a very fine note, before its pipes are filled, not audible at a little distance, then woriter weter, etc., etc., winding up with teter teter, all clear and round. (His song is comical and reminds me of the thrasher.)”);  May 6, 1855 ("Hear at a distance a ruby(?)-crowned wren, so robin-like and spirited.  . . . I think this the only Regulus I have ever seen.”); April 30, 1857 (“Hear again the same bird heard at Conantum April 18th, which I think must be the ruby-crowned wren. ”); April 26, 1860 ("Hear the ruby-crowned wren in the morning, near George Heywood’s.”). See also note to April 20, 1859 ("My ruby-crowned or crested wren”) and  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau: the ruby-crowned or crested wren.

A man killing a little brown snake with blackish marks along each side of back and a pink belly. See October 11, 1856 (“I find a little snake which somebody has killed with his heel. It is apparently Coluber amaenus, the red snake. Brown above, light-red beneath, about eight inches long . . . It is a conspicuous light red beneath, then a bluish-gray line along the sides, and above this brown with a line of lighter or yellowish brown down the middle of the back. ”); September 9, 1857 ("On my way home, caught one of those little red bellied snakes in the road, where it was rather slugish, as usual. Saw another in the road a week or two ago. The whole length was eight inches. . .It was a dark ash-color above, with darker longitudinal lines, light brick-red beneath. There were three triangular buff spots just behind the head, one above and one each side. It is apparently Coluber amaenus”). See also April 26, 1857 ("I have the same objection to killing a snake that I have to the killing of any other animal, yet the most humane man that I know never omits to kill one.”). Compare April 22, 1857 (“Near Tall's Island, rescue a little pale or yellowish brown snake that was coiled round a willow half a dozen rods from the shore and was apparently chilled by the cold. Was it not Storer's "little brown snake?”) ~ redbellied snake or worm snake or both?: Snakes of Massachusetts

Must it not be a pigeon hawk then?  I think I have not described this white-barred hawk before. See April 27, 1860 ("Saw yesterday, and see to-day, a small hawk which I take to be a pigeon hawk. This one skims low along over Grindstone Meadow, close to the edge of the water, and I see the blackbirds rise hurriedly from the button bushes and willows before him. I am decided by his size (as well as color) and his low, level skimming.") See also A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, The Pigeon Hawk (Merlin)

See and hear a black and white creeper. See April 28, 1856 ("I hear to-day frequently the seezer seezer seezer of the black and white creeper, or what I have referred to that . . . It is not a note, nor a bird, to attract attention; only suggesting still warmer weather, —that the season has revolved so much further."); May 11, 1856("The black and white creeper also is descending the oaks, etc., and uttering from time to time his seeser seeser seeser. What a rich, strong striped blue-black (?) and white bird"); May 30, 1857 ("In the midst of the shower, though it was not raining very hard, a black and white creeper came and inspected the limbs of a tree before my rock, in his usual zigzag, prying way, head downward often, and when it thundered loudest, heeded it not.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Black and White Creeper

Interrupted fern scrolls there, four to five inches high.  See April 30, 1858 ( I noticed one of the large scroll ferns, with its rusty wool, up eight inches on the 28th."); also May 12, 1858 ("The cinnamon and interrupted ferns are both about two feet high in some places.")

Those red maples are reddest in which the fertile flowers prevail./  How pretty a red maple in bloom (they are now in prime), seen in the sun against a pine wood See April 28, 1855 ("The red maples, now in bloom, are quite handsome at a distance over the flooded meadow . . .. The abundant wholesome gray of the trunks and stems beneath surmounted by the red or scarlet crescents"). See also April 1, 1860 ("The red maple buds are considerably expanded, and no doubt make a greater impression of redness."); April 10, 1853 (''The male red maple buds now show eight or ten (ten counting everything) scales, alternately crosswise, and the pairs successively brighter red or scarlet, which will account for the gradual reddening of their tops. They are about ready to open."); April 13, 1854 ('The red maple in a day or two. I begin to see the anthers in some buds. So much more of the scales of the buds is now uncovered that the tops of the swamps at a distance are reddened."); April 26, 1859 ('The blossoms of the red maple . . . are now most generally conspicuous and handsome scarlet crescents over the swamps.") See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Red Maple



April 29, 2016


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.

   April 28< <<<<<  April 29 >>>>> April 30

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April 29
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 © 2009-2022


https://tinyurl.com/HDT29April
at No comments:
Labels: ,
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)

Popular Posts Last 30 Days.

The week ahead in Henry’s journal

The week ahead in Henry’s journal
A journal, a book that shall contain a record of all your joy.
"A stone fruit. Each one yields me a thought." ~ H. D. Thoreau, March 28, 1859


I sit on this rock
wrestling with the melody
that possesses me.
May 23, 1854