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
Away from the town
and deeper into the night --
whip-poor-wills, fire-flies.
in a moonlight night
I seem to be nearer the
origin of things.
June 11, 1851
I see my shadow
as a second person who
sits down on this rock.
A sheet of water
revealed by its reflections
much like a mirage.
Great cumuli with
glowing white borders slowly
drifting in the sky.
I observe the shade
as if the shadow of each
particular leaf.
June 11, 2018
Saw yesterday a great yellow butterfly with black marks. June 11, 1856
Another fog this morning. June 11, 1853
Already I see those handsome fungi spots on the red maple leaves, yellow within, with a green centre, then the light-red ring deepening to crimson. June 11, 1860
I now first begin to notice the silvery under sides of the red maple and swamp white oak leaves, turned up by the wind. June 11, 1860
The locust in graveyard shows but few blossoms yet. June 11, 1856
The black willow, having shed its fuzzy seeds and expanded its foliage, now begins to be handsome, so light and graceful. June 11, 1853
The early willows at the bridge are apparently either S. discolor or eriocephala, or both. June 11, 1855
The fertile Salix alba is conspicuous now at a distance, in fruit, being yellowish and drooping. June 11, 1858
The upland fields are already less green where the June-grass is ripening its seeds. They are greenest when only the blade is seen. June 11, 1853
In the sorrel-fields, also, what lately was the ruddy, rosy cheek of health, now that the sorrel is ripening and dying, has become the tanned and imbrowned cheek of manhood. June 11, 1853
I now first begin to notice the silvery under sides of the red maple and swamp white oak leaves, turned up by the wind. June 11, 1860
The locust in graveyard shows but few blossoms yet. June 11, 1856
The black willow, having shed its fuzzy seeds and expanded its foliage, now begins to be handsome, so light and graceful. June 11, 1853
The early willows at the bridge are apparently either S. discolor or eriocephala, or both. June 11, 1855
The fertile Salix alba is conspicuous now at a distance, in fruit, being yellowish and drooping. June 11, 1858
The upland fields are already less green where the June-grass is ripening its seeds. They are greenest when only the blade is seen. June 11, 1853
In the sorrel-fields, also, what lately was the ruddy, rosy cheek of health, now that the sorrel is ripening and dying, has become the tanned and imbrowned cheek of manhood. June 11, 1853
Some fields began to be white with whiteweed on the 9th. June 11, 1860
June 11, 2018
The mountains are misty and blue. June 11, 1852
Now observe the dark evergreen of June. June 11, 1855
Hemlocks are about at height of their beauty, with their fresh growth. June 11, 1859
Hemlocks are about at height of their beauty, with their fresh growth. June 11, 1859
The evergreens are now completely invested by the deciduous trees, and you get the full effect of their dark green contrasting with the yellowish green of the deciduous trees. June 11, 1860
Looking at a hillside of young trees, what various shades of green! The oaks generally are a light and tender and yellowish green; the white birches, dark green now; the maples, dark and silvery. June 11, 1860
I observe and appreciate the shade, as it were the shadow of each particular leaf on the ground. June 11, 1856
I observe and appreciate the shade, as it were the shadow of each particular leaf on the ground. June 11, 1856
Great cumuli are slowly drifting in the intensely blue sky, with glowing white borders. June 11, 1856
June 11, 2019
It reminds me of
the thunder-cloud and the dark
eyelash of summer.
June 11, 1856
How agreeable in a still, cloudy day, when large masses of clouds, equally dispersed, float across the sky, not threatening rain, but preserving a temperate air, to see a sheet of water thus revealed by its reflections, a smooth, glassy mirror, reflecting the light sky and the dark and shady woods. It is very much like a mirage. June 11, 1854
At twelve walk up the Sudbury River above Frank's to Ashland, at first through the meadows, then over the high hills in the vicinity. June 11, 1854
From a high hill on the west of the river, about a mile from Frank's, get a good view of Farm Pond eastward, which empties into the river, with South Framingham on the south east side of it. June 11, 1854
From a high hill on the west of the river, about a mile from Frank's, get a good view of Farm Pond eastward, which empties into the river, with South Framingham on the south east side of it. June 11, 1854
The mosquitoes first troubled me a little last night. June 11, 1853
The air in this pitch pine wood is filled with the hum of gnats, flies, and mosquitoes. June 11, 1852
In one grove pitch pine shoots are from seven to nine tenths as long as last year's growth. June 11, 1859
In order to get the deserted tanager’s nest at the top of a pitch pine which was too weak to climb, we carried a rope in our pockets and took three rails a quarter of a mile into the woods, and there rigged a derrick, by which I climbed to a level with the nest, and I could see if there were eggs in it. June 11, 1855
The cricket sings. June 11, 1852
You must attend to the birds in the spring. June 11, 1852
A robin sings and wood thrush amid the pine. June 11, 1852
The veery reminds me of the wood thrush in its note, as well as form and color. June 11, 1852
A robin sings and wood thrush amid the pine. June 11, 1852
The veery reminds me of the wood thrush in its note, as well as form and color. June 11, 1852
Who taught the oven-bird to conceal her nest ? It is on the ground, yet out of sight. What cunning there is in nature ! No man could have arranged it more art fully for the purpose of concealment. Only the escape of the bird betrays it. Early June, 1850
I hear the night warbler breaking out as in his dreams made so from the first for some mysterious reason June 11 1851
Golden crowned thrush (oven-bird) June 11, 1852
The oven-bird and the thrasher sing. The last has a sort of chuckle. June 11, 1852
I hear the bobolink and the lark as I go down the railroad causeway. June 11, 1852
The red-eye sings now in the woods, perhaps more than any other bird. June 11, 1852
The red-eye sings incessant, and the more indolent yellow-throat vireo, and the creeper, and perhaps the redstart? June 11, 1856
Heard many redstarts on the Island. June 11, 1860
Hear the parti-colored warbler. June 11, 1858
Saw creepers and one wood pewee nest on a swamp white oak, not quite done. June 11, 1860
Probably blackbirds were never less numerous along our river than in these years. June 11, 1853
What a difference between one red-wing blackbird’s egg and another’s! C. finds one long as a robin’s, but narrow, with large black spots on larger end and on side, on or between the bushes by riverside; another much shorter, with a large black spot on the side. Both pale-blue ground. June 11, 1855
Rice tells me he found a turtle dove’s nest on an apple tree near his farm in Sudbury two years ago, with white eggs; so thin a bottom you could see the eggs through. June 11, 1856
Just as we were shoving away from this isle, I heard a sound just like a small dog barking hoarsely, and, looking up, saw it was made by a bittern (Ardea minor), a pair of which were flapping over the meadows and probably had a nest in some tussock thereabouts. June 11, 1860
Examine the stone-heaps . . . but I can find no ova in them. June 11, 1858
See a bream’s nest two and a quarter feet diameter, laboriously scooped out, and the surrounding bottom for a diameter of eight feet (! !) comparatively white and clean . . . while half a dozen shiners are hovering about, apparently watching a chance to steal the spawn. June 11, 1856
I see a musquash dive head foremost (as he is swimming) in the usual way, being scared by me, but without making any noise. June 11, 1858
Near a wall thereabouts, saw a little woodchuck, about a third grown, resting still on the grass within a rod of me, as gray as the oldest are, but it soon ran into the wall. June 11, 1858
A beautiful grass-green snake about fifteen inches long, light beneath, with a yellow space under the eyes along the edge of the upper jaw. June 11, 1856
A painted turtle laying, at 5 p. m. June 11, 1860
Saw a painted turtle on the gravelly bank just south of the bath-place, west side, and suspected that she had just laid (it was mid-afternoon). June 11, 1858
Saw half a dozen Emys insculpta preparing to dig now at mid-afternoon, and one or two had begun at the most gravelly spot there; but they would not proceed while I watched, though I waited nearly half an hour. June 11, 1858
It seems a very earnest and pressing business they are upon. June 11, 1858 They have but a short season to do it in, and they run many risks. June 11, 1858
Landing on Tail's Island, I perceive a sour scent from the wilted leaves and scraps of leaves which were blown off yesterday and strew the ground in all woods. June 11, 1860
Just within the edge of the wood there, I see a small painted turtle on its back, with its head stretched out as if to turn over. June 11, 1860
Surprised by the sight, I stooped to investigate the cause. June 11, 1860
It drew in its head at once, but I noticed that its shell was partially empty. June 11, 1860
I could see through it from side to side as it lay, its entrails having been extracted through large openings just before the hind legs. June 11, 1860
The dead leaves were flattened for a foot over, where it had been operated on, and were a little bloody. June 11, 1860
Its paunch lay on the leaves, and contained much vegetable matter, — old cranberry leaves, etc. June 11, 1860
Judging by the striae, it was not more than five or six years old, — or four or five. June 11, 1860
Its fore parts were quite alive, its hind legs apparently dead, its inwards gone ; apparently its spine perfect. June 11, 1860
The hind legs themselves had not been injured nor the shell scratched. June 11, 1860
The flies had entered it in numbers. June 11, 1860
What creature could have done this which it would be difficult for a man to do?
I thought it most likely that it was done by some bird of the heron kind which has a long and powerful bill. June 11, 1860
And probably this accounts for the many dead turtles which I have found and thought died from disease. June 11, 1860
What a difference between one red-wing blackbird’s egg and another’s! C. finds one long as a robin’s, but narrow, with large black spots on larger end and on side, on or between the bushes by riverside; another much shorter, with a large black spot on the side. Both pale-blue ground. June 11, 1855
Rice tells me he found a turtle dove’s nest on an apple tree near his farm in Sudbury two years ago, with white eggs; so thin a bottom you could see the eggs through. June 11, 1856
Just as we were shoving away from this isle, I heard a sound just like a small dog barking hoarsely, and, looking up, saw it was made by a bittern (Ardea minor), a pair of which were flapping over the meadows and probably had a nest in some tussock thereabouts. June 11, 1860
Examine the stone-heaps . . . but I can find no ova in them. June 11, 1858
See a bream’s nest two and a quarter feet diameter, laboriously scooped out, and the surrounding bottom for a diameter of eight feet (! !) comparatively white and clean . . . while half a dozen shiners are hovering about, apparently watching a chance to steal the spawn. June 11, 1856
I see a musquash dive head foremost (as he is swimming) in the usual way, being scared by me, but without making any noise. June 11, 1858
Near a wall thereabouts, saw a little woodchuck, about a third grown, resting still on the grass within a rod of me, as gray as the oldest are, but it soon ran into the wall. June 11, 1858
A beautiful grass-green snake about fifteen inches long, light beneath, with a yellow space under the eyes along the edge of the upper jaw. June 11, 1856
A painted turtle laying, at 5 p. m. June 11, 1860
Saw a painted turtle on the gravelly bank just south of the bath-place, west side, and suspected that she had just laid (it was mid-afternoon). June 11, 1858
Saw half a dozen Emys insculpta preparing to dig now at mid-afternoon, and one or two had begun at the most gravelly spot there; but they would not proceed while I watched, though I waited nearly half an hour. June 11, 1858
It seems a very earnest and pressing business they are upon. June 11, 1858 They have but a short season to do it in, and they run many risks. June 11, 1858
Landing on Tail's Island, I perceive a sour scent from the wilted leaves and scraps of leaves which were blown off yesterday and strew the ground in all woods. June 11, 1860
Just within the edge of the wood there, I see a small painted turtle on its back, with its head stretched out as if to turn over. June 11, 1860
Surprised by the sight, I stooped to investigate the cause. June 11, 1860
It drew in its head at once, but I noticed that its shell was partially empty. June 11, 1860
I could see through it from side to side as it lay, its entrails having been extracted through large openings just before the hind legs. June 11, 1860
The dead leaves were flattened for a foot over, where it had been operated on, and were a little bloody. June 11, 1860
Its paunch lay on the leaves, and contained much vegetable matter, — old cranberry leaves, etc. June 11, 1860
Judging by the striae, it was not more than five or six years old, — or four or five. June 11, 1860
Its fore parts were quite alive, its hind legs apparently dead, its inwards gone ; apparently its spine perfect. June 11, 1860
The hind legs themselves had not been injured nor the shell scratched. June 11, 1860
The flies had entered it in numbers. June 11, 1860
What creature could have done this which it would be difficult for a man to do?
I thought it most likely that it was done by some bird of the heron kind which has a long and powerful bill. June 11, 1860
And probably this accounts for the many dead turtles which I have found and thought died from disease. June 11, 1860
A partridge with young in the Saw Mill Brook path. Could hardly tell what kind of creature it was at first, it made such a noise and fluttering amid the weeds and bushes. Finally ran off with its body flat and wings somewhat spread. June 11, 1856
I find, in the dry excrement of a fox left on a rock, the vertebrae and talons of a partridge (?) which he has consumed. June 11, 1853.
Such is Nature, who gave one creature a taste or yearning for another's entrails as its favorite tidbit ! ! June 11, 1860
No wonder the turtle is wary, for, notwithstanding its horny shell, when it comes forth to lay its eggs it runs the risk of having its entrails plucked out. June 11, 1860
That is the reason that the box turtle, which lives on the land, is made to shut itself up entirely within the shell, and I suspect that the mud tortoise only comes forth by night. June 11, 1860
I perceive that scent from the young sweet-fern shoots and withered blossoms which made the first settlers of Concord to faint on their journey. June 11, 1856
See under an apple tree, at entrance of Goose Pond Path from Walden road, a great fungus with hollow white stem, eight or nine inches high, whose black funereal top has melted this morning, leaving a black centre with thin white scales on it. June 11, 1856
All the cistuses are shut now that I see, and also the veiny-leaved hieracium with one leaf on its stem, not long open. June 11, 1856
The Rubus triflorus apparently out of bloom at Saw Mill, before the high blackberry has begun. June 11, 1856
I have noticed the green oak-balls some days. June 11, 1855
The target leaf is eaten above. June 11, 1855
Sail to Tail's Island. June 11, 1860
Wind northwest, pretty strong, and not a warm day. June 11, 1860
Sail to Tail's Island. June 11, 1860
Wind northwest, pretty strong, and not a warm day. June 11, 1860
I notice the patches of bulrushes (Scirpus lacustris) now generally eighteen inches high and very dark green, but recently showing themselves. June 11, 1860
The wind does not blow through our river-valley just as the vanes indicate at home, but conformably to the form of the valley somewhat. June 11, 1860
It depends on whether you have a high and hilly shore to guide it, or a flat one which it may blow across. June 11, 1860
With a north west wind, it is difficult to sail from the willow-row to Hubbard's Bath, yet I can sail more westerly from the island point in Fair Haven Bay to the bath-place above; and though I could not do the first to-day, I did sail all the way from Rice's Bar to half a mile above Sherman's Bridge by all the windings of the river. June 11, 1860
If the bend is due east and the wind northwest I can sail round it. June 11, 1860
Again, as I was approaching Bittern Cliff, I had but little wind, but I said to myself, As soon as I reach the cliff I shall find myself in a current of wind blowing into the opening of the pond valley; and I did. June 11, 1860
Indeed, the wind flows through that part of the river-valley above the water-line somewhat as the water does below it. June 11, 1860
I see from time to time a fish, scared by our sail, leap four to six feet through the air above the waves. June 11, 1860
See many small blue devil's-needles to-day, but no mates with them, and is it not they that the kingbird stoops to snap up, striking the water each time? June 11, 1860
860
There is at least one foot of water on the meadows generally. June 11, 1860
I cut off the principal bends, pushing amid the thin sedge and pipes, and land on Tail's Island. June 11, 1860
I had carried india-rubber boots to look for wrens' nests, but the water was very much too deep, and I could not have used them except on the very edge in some places. June 11, 1860
Yet the river in Concord this morning was but just one foot above summer level and about eighteen inches above where it was just before the middle of May, when everybody remarked on its extreme lowness. June 11, 1860
I find the Sudbury meadows unexpectedly wet. June 11, 1860
If you should lower it eighteen inches now here, there would still be much water on the Sudbury meadows. June 11, 1860
The sedges, even, are thick and rank only on the more elevated and drier edges of the meadow. June 11, 1860
C. stricta grows thinly (with thin pipes) or occasionally in large tufts. June 11, 1860
Accordingly, on far the greater part of these meadows there is now very little grass, i. e. sedge, but thin pipes and sedge, — the Carex stricta and monile commonly (too wet for scoparia and stellulata). June 11, 1860
On dry parts only, the C. monile, etc. June 11, 1860
Carex cephalophora (?) on Heywood’s Peak. June 11, 1855
The Carex tentaculata at Clamshell in prime, say one week. It abounds at Forget-me-not Shore, — dense- flowered, spreading spikes. June 11, 1860
Is not that carex, Pennsylvanica-like, with a long spike (one inch long by one half-inch wide), C. bullata? June 11, 1855
That fine, dry, wiry wild grass in hollows in woods and sprout-lands, never mown, is apparently the C. Pennsylvanica, or early sedge. June 11, 1855
On our way up, we ate our dinner at Rice's shore, and looked over the meadows, covered there with waving sedge, light-glaucous as it is bent by the wind, reflecting a grayish or light-glaucous light from its underside. June 11, 1860
That meadow opposite Rice's Bath is comparatively well covered with sedge, as the great Sudbury meadow is not. June 11, 1860
Notice pads and pontederias are now pretty thick. June 11, 1860
The wind does not blow through our river-valley just as the vanes indicate at home, but conformably to the form of the valley somewhat. June 11, 1860
It depends on whether you have a high and hilly shore to guide it, or a flat one which it may blow across. June 11, 1860
With a north west wind, it is difficult to sail from the willow-row to Hubbard's Bath, yet I can sail more westerly from the island point in Fair Haven Bay to the bath-place above; and though I could not do the first to-day, I did sail all the way from Rice's Bar to half a mile above Sherman's Bridge by all the windings of the river. June 11, 1860
If the bend is due east and the wind northwest I can sail round it. June 11, 1860
Again, as I was approaching Bittern Cliff, I had but little wind, but I said to myself, As soon as I reach the cliff I shall find myself in a current of wind blowing into the opening of the pond valley; and I did. June 11, 1860
Indeed, the wind flows through that part of the river-valley above the water-line somewhat as the water does below it. June 11, 1860
I see from time to time a fish, scared by our sail, leap four to six feet through the air above the waves. June 11, 1860
See many small blue devil's-needles to-day, but no mates with them, and is it not they that the kingbird stoops to snap up, striking the water each time? June 11, 1860
860
There is at least one foot of water on the meadows generally. June 11, 1860
I cut off the principal bends, pushing amid the thin sedge and pipes, and land on Tail's Island. June 11, 1860
I had carried india-rubber boots to look for wrens' nests, but the water was very much too deep, and I could not have used them except on the very edge in some places. June 11, 1860
Yet the river in Concord this morning was but just one foot above summer level and about eighteen inches above where it was just before the middle of May, when everybody remarked on its extreme lowness. June 11, 1860
I find the Sudbury meadows unexpectedly wet. June 11, 1860
If you should lower it eighteen inches now here, there would still be much water on the Sudbury meadows. June 11, 1860
The sedges, even, are thick and rank only on the more elevated and drier edges of the meadow. June 11, 1860
C. stricta grows thinly (with thin pipes) or occasionally in large tufts. June 11, 1860
Accordingly, on far the greater part of these meadows there is now very little grass, i. e. sedge, but thin pipes and sedge, — the Carex stricta and monile commonly (too wet for scoparia and stellulata). June 11, 1860
On dry parts only, the C. monile, etc. June 11, 1860
Carex cephalophora (?) on Heywood’s Peak. June 11, 1855
The Carex tentaculata at Clamshell in prime, say one week. It abounds at Forget-me-not Shore, — dense- flowered, spreading spikes. June 11, 1860
Is not that carex, Pennsylvanica-like, with a long spike (one inch long by one half-inch wide), C. bullata? June 11, 1855
That fine, dry, wiry wild grass in hollows in woods and sprout-lands, never mown, is apparently the C. Pennsylvanica, or early sedge. June 11, 1855
On our way up, we ate our dinner at Rice's shore, and looked over the meadows, covered there with waving sedge, light-glaucous as it is bent by the wind, reflecting a grayish or light-glaucous light from its underside. June 11, 1860
That meadow opposite Rice's Bath is comparatively well covered with sedge, as the great Sudbury meadow is not. June 11, 1860
Notice pads and pontederias are now pretty thick. June 11, 1860
I notice no white lily pads near the bathing-rock in Flint’s Pond. June 11, 1856
The white lily pads reddish, and showing their crimson undersides from time to time when the wind blows hardest. June 11, 1860
Utricularia vulgaris very abundant in Everett’s Pool. June 11, 1856
The potamogeton (the large common one) is remarkable as a brown leaf, — fit color for the brown water on which it floats, — but the potamogetons are few and scarcely obvious yet on the river. June 11, 1860
I do not see the great Scirpus fluviatilis there yet. June 11, 1860
There are many large spaces of pads, — two at Tail's Island, — showing that they are wet all summer. June 11, 1860
This is more like a lagoon than a meadow, in fact. June 11, 1860
It is too wet even for sedges to flourish, for they are not dense, as on other meadows, except on the higher parts near the hills or shores. June 11, 1860
The white lily pads reddish, and showing their crimson undersides from time to time when the wind blows hardest. June 11, 1860
Utricularia vulgaris very abundant in Everett’s Pool. June 11, 1856
The potamogeton (the large common one) is remarkable as a brown leaf, — fit color for the brown water on which it floats, — but the potamogetons are few and scarcely obvious yet on the river. June 11, 1860
I do not see the great Scirpus fluviatilis there yet. June 11, 1860
There are many large spaces of pads, — two at Tail's Island, — showing that they are wet all summer. June 11, 1860
This is more like a lagoon than a meadow, in fact. June 11, 1860
It is too wet even for sedges to flourish, for they are not dense, as on other meadows, except on the higher parts near the hills or shores. June 11, 1860
The veiny-leaved hieracium with one leaf on its stem, not long open. June 11, 1856
Lambkill flower. June 11, 1859
Carrion-flower up a day or two. June 11, 1859
Panicum latifolium (not out) grows by riverside at Dakin's Brook. June 11, 1859
Galium triflorum, how long? June 11, 1859
Ferns generally were killed by the frost of last month, e. g. brakes, cinnamon fern, flowering and sensitive ferns, and no doubt others. I smell the strong sour scent of their decaying. June 11, 1859
The brakes, the sarsaparilla, the osmundas, the Solomon’s-seals, the lady's slippers have long since withered and fallen. The huckleberries and blueberries, too, have lost their leaves. The forest floor is covered with a thick coat of moist brown leaves. June 11, 1859
It is very hot this afternoon, and that peculiar stillness of summer noons now reigns in the woods. June 11, 1856
When I return, about 5 p. m., the shad-flies swarm over the river in considerable numbers, but there are very few at sundown. June 11, 1859
A beautiful summer night, not too warm, moon not quite full, after two or three rainy days. June 11, 1851
When I get away from the town and deeper into the night, I hear whip-poor-wills, and see fireflies in the meadow. June 11, 1851
The whip-poor-will suggests how wide asunder the woods and the town. . . . It is a bird not only of the woods, but of the night side of the woods. June 11, 1851
At 9 p. m. , 54°, and no toads nor peepers heard. June 11, 1860
I hear the nighthawks uttering their squeaking notes high in the air now at nine o ' clock P. M. , and occasionally — what I do not remember to have heard so late — their booming note. It sounds more as if under a cope than by day. The sound is not so fugacious, going off to be lost amid the spheres, but is echoed hollowly to earth, making the low roof of heaven vibrate. Such a sound is more confused and dissipated by day. June 11, 1851
No one, to my knowledge, has observed the minute differences in the seasons. June 11, 1851
Hardly two nights are alike. June 11, 1851
Many men walk by day; few walk by night. It is a very different season. Instead of the sun, there are the moon and stars; instead of the wood thrush, there is the whip-poor-will; instead of butterflies, fireflies, winged sparks of fire! June, 1850
The woodland paths are never seen to such advantage as in a moonlight night, opening before me almost against expectation as I walk, as if it were not a path, but an open, winding passage through the bushes, which my feet find. June 11, 1851
I now descend round the corner of the grain-field, through the pitch pine wood into a lower field, inclosed by woods, and find myself in a colder, damp and misty atmosphere, with much dew on the grass. June 11, 1851
There is something creative and primal in the cool mist. June 11, 1851
I seem to be nearer to the origin of things. June 11, 1851
My spiritual side takes a more distinct form. .June 11, 1851
A book of the seasons, each page of which should be written in its own season and out-of-doors, or in its own locality wherever it may be. June 11, 1851
June 11, 2023
See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau:
*****
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.")
May 29, 1855 ("The red-eye, its clear loud song in bars continuously repeated and varied; all tempered white beneath and dark yellow olive above and on edge of wings, with a dark line on side-head or from root of bill; dusky claws, and a very long bill.")
June 2, 1854 ("Are these not kingbird days, when, in clearer first June days full of light, this aerial, twittering bird flutters from willow to willow and swings on the twigs, showing his white-edged tail?")
June 6, 1855 ("On the Island I hear still the redstart—tsip tsip tsip tsip, tsit-i-yet, or sometimes tsip tsip tsip tsip, tse vet. A young male. It repeats this at regular intervals for a long time , sitting pretty still now.")
June 7, 1853 ("The oven-bird runs from her covered nest, so close to the ground under the lowest twigs and leaves, even the loose leaves on the ground, like a mouse, that I can not get a fair view of her. ")
June 7, 1858 ("The nighthawk sparks and booms over arid hillsides and sprout-lands.")
June 8, 1855("A tanager’s nest in the topmost forks of a pitch pine about fifteen feet high, by Thrush Alley; the nest very slight, apparently of pine needles, twigs, etc.; can see through it; bird on")
June 9, 1854 (" The veery rings, and the tree toad.")
June 9, 1855 ("I think I have hardly heard a bobolink for a week or ten days.")
June 9. 1856 ("Now I notice where an elm is in the shadow of a cloud,—the black elm-tops and shadows of June. It is a dark eyelash which suggests a flashing eye beneath. It suggests houses that lie under the shade, the repose and siesta of summer noons, the thunder-cloud, bathing, and all that belongs to summer. ")
June 13, 1851 (" 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? ")
June 13, 1858 (" I hear and see the parti-colored warbler, blue yellow-backed, here on the spruce trees. It probably breeds here. [Ledum Swamp]")
June 14, 1851 ("The blackbird's harsher note resounds over the meadows, and the veery's comes up from the wood.")
June 14, 1858 ("Young partridges, when?")
June 15, 1851 ("I hear, while sitting by the wall, the sound of the stake-driver at a distance. . . . The pumper. I immediately went in search of the bird, but, after going a third of a mile, it did not sound much nearer, and the two parts of the sound did not appear to proceed from the same place. What is the peculiarity of these sounds which penetrate so far on the keynote of nature? ")
June 15, 1852 ("The note of the bobolink begins to sound somewhat rare. ")
June 16, 1854 ("Thrasher and catbird sing still; summer yellowbird and Maryland yellow-throat sing still; and oven-bird and veery.")
June 17, 1852 ("The birds sing well this morning, well as ever. The brown thrasher drowns the rest. Lark first, and, in the woods, the red-eye, veery, chewink, oven-bird, wood thrush.")
June 25, 1860 (" As near as I can make out with my glass, I see and hear the parti-colored warbler at Ledum Swamp on the larches and pines. A bluish back, yellow breast with a reddish crescent above, and white belly, and a continuous screeping note to the end.")
June 26, 1855 ("C. has found a wood pewee’s nest on a horizontal limb of a small swamp white oak, ten feet high, with three fresh eggs, cream-colored with spots of two shades in a ring about large end. Have nest and an egg.")
June 12, 1853 ("The note of the wood thrush answers to some cool unexhausted morning vigor in the hearer.")
June 13, 1851 ("The nighthawk booms wide awake")June 13, 1851 (" 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? ")
June 13, 1858 (" I hear and see the parti-colored warbler, blue yellow-backed, here on the spruce trees. It probably breeds here. [Ledum Swamp]")
June 14, 1851 ("The blackbird's harsher note resounds over the meadows, and the veery's comes up from the wood.")
June 14, 1858 ("Young partridges, when?")
June 15, 1851 ("I hear, while sitting by the wall, the sound of the stake-driver at a distance. . . . The pumper. I immediately went in search of the bird, but, after going a third of a mile, it did not sound much nearer, and the two parts of the sound did not appear to proceed from the same place. What is the peculiarity of these sounds which penetrate so far on the keynote of nature? ")
June 15, 1852 ("The note of the bobolink begins to sound somewhat rare. ")
June 16, 1854 ("Thrasher and catbird sing still; summer yellowbird and Maryland yellow-throat sing still; and oven-bird and veery.")
June 17, 1852 ("The birds sing well this morning, well as ever. The brown thrasher drowns the rest. Lark first, and, in the woods, the red-eye, veery, chewink, oven-bird, wood thrush.")
June 25, 1860 (" As near as I can make out with my glass, I see and hear the parti-colored warbler at Ledum Swamp on the larches and pines. A bluish back, yellow breast with a reddish crescent above, and white belly, and a continuous screeping note to the end.")
June 26, 1855 ("C. has found a wood pewee’s nest on a horizontal limb of a small swamp white oak, ten feet high, with three fresh eggs, cream-colored with spots of two shades in a ring about large end. Have nest and an egg.")
June 11, 2022
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, June 11
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 © 2009-2023
No comments:
Post a Comment