March 10. The air seems to thaw. Daily we expected spring; today it arrives.

 

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

Journal, March 10, 1852:

I see flocks of a dozen bluebirds together. See March 10, 1853 ("What was that sound that came on the softened air? It was the warble of the first bluebird from that scraggy apple orchard yonder. When this is heard, then has spring arrived"); March 10, 1855 ("You are always surprised by the sight of the first spring bird or insect; they seem premature, and there is no such evidence of spring as themselves, so that they literally fetch the year about. It is thus when I hear the first robin or bluebird or, looking along the brooks, see the first water-bugs out circling. But you think, They have come, and Nature cannot recede."); March 10, 1859 ("And already, when near the road, I hear the warble of my first Concord bluebird, borne to me from the hill through the still morning air, and, looking up, I see him plainly, though so far away, a dark speck in the top of a walnut.. . . The bluebird on the apple tree, warbling so innocently to inquire if any of its mates are within call, — the angel of the spring! Fair and innocent, yet the offspring of the earth. The color of the sky above and of the subsoil beneath. Suggesting what sweet and innocent melody (terrestrial melody) may have its birthplace between the sky and the ground.")  See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bluebird in Early Spring.

I see the reticulated leaves of the rattlesnake-plantain in the woods, quite fresh and green. See  August 27, 1856 ("Is it not the prettiest leaf that paves the forest floor?”) ; June 12, 1853 ("The rattlesnake-plantain now surprises the walker amid the dry leaves on cool hillsides in the woods; of very simple form, but richly veined with longitudinal and transverse white veins. It looks like art.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Rattlesnake-Plantain

Hear the phoebe note of the chickadee to-day for the first time.  See January 9, 1858 ("Some chickadees come flitting close to me, and one utters its spring note, phe-be, for which I feel under obligations to him"); February 9, 1856 ("I hear a phoebe note from a chickadee."); February 24, 1857 ("A chickadee with its winter lisp flits over, and I think it is time to hear its phebe note, and that instant it pipes it forth. "); March 1, 1854 ("I hear the phoebe or spring note of the chickadee, and the scream of the jay is perfectly repeated by the echo from a neighboring wood.”); March 1, 1856 ("I hear several times the fine-drawn phe-be note of the chickadee, which I heard only once during the winter. Singular that I should hear this on the first spring day. “); March 11, 1854 ("Air full of birds, — bluebirds, song sparrows, chickadee (phoebe notes), and blackbirds. Bluebirds' warbling curls in elms.”); March 14, 1852 ("I see a flock of blackbirds and hear their conqueree. The ground is mostly bare now. Again I hear the chickadee's spring note.”); March 19, 1958 ("Hear the phebe note of a chickadee."); March 21, 1859 ("I hear the pleasant phebe note of the chickadee. It is, methinks, the most of a wilderness note of any yet. It is peculiarly interesting that this, which is one of our winter birds also, should have a note with which to welcome the spring."); March 22, 1855 ("The jays scream. I hear the downy woodpecker’s rapid tapping and my first distinct spring note (phe-be) of the chickadee.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Chickadee in Winter

 Journal, March 10, 1853:

This is the first really spring day. . . .You do not think it necessary to button up your coat. See March 15, 1852 ("This afternoon I throw off my outside coat. A mild spring day. The air is full of bluebirds. . . . My life partakes of infinity."); March 31, 1855("The fuzzy gnats are in the air, and bluebirds, whose warble is thawed out. I am uncomfortably warm, gradually unbutton both my coats, and wish that I had left the outside one at home.")

Something analogous to the thawing of the ice seems to have taken place in the air. See February 18, 1857 (“The very grain of the air seems to have undergone a change and is ready to split into the form of the bluebird's warble.”); March 9, 1852 ("[T]he air excites me. When the frost comes out of the ground, there is a corresponding thawing of the man.”); March 21, 1853 (“[W]inter breaks up within us; the frost is coming out of me, and I am heaved like the road; accumulated masses of ice and snow dissolve, and thoughts like a freshet pour down unwonted channels.”)

 Journal, March 10, 1854:

We always have much of this rainy, drizzling, misty weather in early spring, after which we expect to hear geese. See March 14, 1854 ("From within the house at 5.30 p. m. I hear the loud honking of geese, throw up the window, and see a large flock in disordered harrow flying more directly north or even northwest than usual. Raw, thick, misty weather.”); March 23, 1856 ("I spend a considerable portion of my time observing the habits of the wild animals, my brute neighbors. By their various movements and migrations they fetch the year about to me. Very significant are the flight of geese. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of Spring, Geese Overhead

I have no doubt they have begun to probe already where the ground permits. See February 24, 1857 ("I have seen the probings of skunks for a week or more."); February 26, 1860 ("They appear to come out commonly in the warmer weather in the latter part of February.”); March 6, 1854 ("I see the skunk-cabbage started about the spring at head of Hubbard's Close, amid the green grass, and what looks like the first probing of the skunk. The snow is now all off on meadow ground, in thick evergreen woods, and on the south sides of hills.")

 Journal, March 10, 1855:

Surprised by the sight of the first spring bird or insect. But you think, They have come, and Nature cannot recede. See March 23, 1856 ("How many springs I have had this same experience! I am encouraged, for I recognize this steady persistency and recovery of Nature as a quality of myself.”)

 Journal, March 10, 1856:

It is one of the hardest days of the year to bear. Truly a memorable 10th of March. . . a winter of such unmitigated severity . . .10 P. M.—Thermometer at zero. Compare March 10, 1853 ("This is the first really spring day. . . . Something analogous to the thawing of the ice seems to have taken place in the air. At the end of winter there is a season in which are are daily expecting spring, and finally a day when it arrives.”); March 10, 1859 ("These earliest spring days are peculiarly pleasant. . . .The combination of this delicious air, which you do not want to be warmer or softer, with the presence of ice and snow, you sitting on the bare russet portions, the south hillsides, of the earth, this is the charm of these days. It is the summer beginning to show itself like an old friend in the midst of winter.")

 Journal, March 10, 1859:

The strong northwest wind of last night broke the thin ice just formed, and set the irregular triangular pieces on their edges quite perpendicular and directed northwest and southeast and pretty close together, about nine inches high, for half a dozen rods, like a dense fleet of schooners with their mainsails set. See February 12, 1851 ("Thin cakes of ice forced up on their edges and reflecting the sun like so many mirrors, whole fleets of shining sails, giving a very lively appearance to the river, — where for a dozen rods the flakes of ice stood on their edges, like a fleet beating up-stream against the sun, a fleet of ice-boats.”)

See in one place a small swarm of insects flying or gyrating, dancing like large tipulidae. The dance within the compass of a foot always above a piece of snow of the same size in the midst of bare ground. See March 19, 1858 (“I see little swarms of those fine fuzzy gnats in the air.. . . Sometimes a globular swarm two feet or more in diameter, suggesting how genial and habitable the air is become”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Fuzzy Gnats (tipulidæ)

Two frogs  jumped into Hosmer's grassy ditch. See February 18, 1857 (“When I approached the bank of a ditch this after noon, I saw a frog diving to the bottom.”); February 23, 1857 ("I have seen signs of the spring. I have seen a frog swiftly sinking in a pool, or where he dimpled the surface as he leapt in”); March 13, 1855 ("I am surprised to see . . .in still warmer, stagnant, unfrozen holes in this meadow, half a dozen small frogs.”);  March 22. 1860 ("The yellow-spot turtle and wood turtle, Rana fontinalis, and painted tortoise come forth."); March 24, 1859 ("There sits also on the bank of the ditch a Rana fontinalis, and it is altogether likely they were this species that leaped into a ditch on the 10th. This one is mainly a bronze brown, with a very dark greenish snout, etc., with the raised line down the side of the back."); March 26, 1857 (“Though it is rather cool and windy in exposed places, I hear a faint, stertorous croak from a frog in the open swamp; at first one faint note only, which I could not be sure that I had heard”);March 28, 1852 ("In Conantum Brook a living frog, the first of the season.");  March 28, 1858 ("Cleaning out the spring on the west side of Fair Haven Hill, I find a small frog, apparently a bullfrog, just come forth, which must have wintered in the mud there."); March 30, 1858 (“The frogs are now heard leaping into the ditches on your approach”); March 31, 1857 (“As I rise the east side of the Hill, I hear the distant faint peep of hylodes and the tut tut of croaking frogs from the west of the Hill.”) and note to May 6, 1858 (the frogs of Massachusetts). Compare March 28, 1855 (“I run about these cold and blustering days, on the whole perhaps the worst to bear in the year, — partly because they disappoint expectation, — looking almost in vain for some animal or vegetable life stirring. The warmest springs hardly allow me the glimpse of a frog’s heel as he settles himself in the mud”); March 31, 1855 (“I go listening for the croak of the first frog, or peep of a hylodes.. . .I listen in vain to hear a frog”) See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, identifying the Green Frog in Spring (Rana Fontinalis)

The most ornamental tree I have seen this spring was the willow full of catkins now showing most of their down. See  March 10, 1853 (“Methinks the first obvious evidence of spring is the pushing out of the swamp willow catkins . . .the willow twigs, both the yellow and green, are brighter-colored than before. I cannot be deceived. They shine as if the sap were already flowing under the bark; a certain lively and glossy hue they have.”); March 10, 1855 (“I am not aware of growth in any plant yet, unless it be the further peeping out of willow catkins. They have crept out further from under their scales, and, looking closely into them, I detect a little redness along the twigs even now”)

Journal, March 10, 1860:

2 P. M. — About 30°.  Compare March 10, 1856 ("Thermometer +9° at 3.30 P. M. . . .10 P. M.—Thermometer at zero..") See March 2, 1860 ("2 P. M. — Thermometer 50°."): March 3, 1860 ("2 P . M . — 50°"); March 8, 1860 ("2.30 P. M. — 50°. "); March 9, 1860 ("2 and 3 P. M. — Thermometer 41°."); March 11, 1860 ("2 P . M . — About 40° ."); March 15, 1860 ("Thermometer 50° . On the whole the finest day yet (the thermometer was equally high the 3d ), considering the condition of the earth as well as the temperature of the air. . . The temperature has been as high on three days this month , and on the 3d considerably higher, and yet this has seemed the warmest and most summer - like . . . How admirable in our memory lies a calm warm day amid a series of cold and blustering ones ! The 11th was cold and blustering at 40; to-day delightfully warm and pleasant ( being calm ) at 50°.")

March 10.

The air seems to thaw.

Daily we expected spring;

today it arrives.

March 10, 1853

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