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 16, 1852:Walden is not yet melted round the edge. See March 14, 1852 ("The ice on Walden has now for some days looked white like snow, the surface being softened by the sun."); March 18, 1852 ("The pond is still very little melted around the shore."); April 1, 1852 ("Walden is all white ice, but little melted about the shores."); April 14. 1852 ("Walden is only melted two or three rods from the north shore yet."); April 19, 1852 (" Walden is clear of ice. The ice left it yesterday, then, the 18th. "); Walden ("In 1845 Walden was first completely open on the 1st of April; in '46, the 25th of March; in '47, the 8th of April; in '51, the 28th of March; in '52, the 18th of April; in '53, the 23rd of March; in '54, about the 7th of April.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out
Journal, March 16, 1854: I see ducks afar. . . bright white breasts, etc., and black heads about same size or larger . . .Probably both sheldrakes. See March 16, 1855 ("Scare up two large ducks . . .. One very large; white beneath, breast and neck; black head and wings and aft. . . . I view them with glass. The larger sails about on the watch, while the smaller, dark one dives repeatedly. I think it the goosander or sheldrake."); March 16, 1820 ("Saw a flock of sheldrakes a hundred rods off, on the Great Meadows, mostly males with a few females, all intent on fishing.") See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Goosander, Merganser)
The first phoebe near the water is heard. See April 6, 1856 ("Just beyond Wood’s Bridge, I hear the pewee. With what confidence after the lapse of many months, I come out to this waterside, some warm and pleasant spring morning, and, listening, hear, from farther or nearer, through the still concave of the air, the note of the first pewee! If there is one within half a mile, it will be here, and I shall be sure to hear its simple notes from those trees, borne over the water.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Eastern Phoebe
Journal, March 16, 1855: At the woodchuck’s hole just beyond the cockspur thorn. [Cockspur thorn (Crataegus crus-galli) is a species of hawthorn native to eastern North America.] See June 10, 1856 ("The Crataegus Crus-Galli is out of bloom”); September 25, 1856 ("The Crataegus Crus-Galli on the old fence line between Tarbell and T. Wheeler beyond brook are smaller, stale, and not good at all.")
The track is about one and three quarters inches wide by two long, the five toes very distinct and much spread, and is somewhat hand-like. See April 12, 1855 (“For a week past I have frequently seen the tracks of woodchucks in the sand.”)
Scare up two large ducks . . . I think it the goosander or sheldrake. See March 12, 1855 ("Two ducks in river, good size, white beneath with black heads, as they go over."); March 16, 1854 ("I see ducks afar, sailing on the meadow, leaving a long furrow in the water behind them."); March 16, 1860 ("Saw a flock of sheldrakes a hundred rods off, on the Great Meadows, mostly males with a few females, all intent on fishing”) See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Goosander, Merganser)
Journal, March 16, 1856: The red maple sap is now about an inch deep in a quart pail, nearly all caught since morning. See March 14, 1856 ("[J]ust above Pinxter Swamp, one red maple limb was moistened by sap trickling along the bark. Tapping this, I was surprised to find it flow freely . . . "); March 15, 1856 ("Put a spout in the red maple of yesterday, and hang a pail beneath to catch the sap."); March 24, 1856 ("9 A. M. -- Start to get two quarts of white maple sap and home at 11.30"). See also February 21, 1857 ("Am surprised to see this afternoon a boy collecting red maple sap from some trees behind George Hubbard's. It runs freely. The earliest sap I made to flow last year was March 14th . . .The river for some days has been open and its sap visibly flowing, like the maple."); February 23, 1857 ("I have seen signs of the spring. . . .. I have seen the clear sap trickling from the red maple."); March 2, 1860 ("The red maple sap flows freely, and probably has for several days."); March 3, 1857 ("The red maple sap, which I first noticed the 21st of February, is now frozen up in the auger-holes ."); March 4, 1852 (I see where a maple has been wounded the sap is flowing out. Now, then, is the time to make sugar."); March 5, 1852 ("As I sit under their boughs, looking into the sky, I suddenly see the myriad black dots of the expanded buds against the sky. Their sap is flowing.”); March 7, 1855 ("To-day, as also three or four days ago, I saw a clear drop of maple sap on a broken red maple twig, which tasted very sweet.") March 24, 1855 ("It is too cold to think of those signs of spring which I find recorded under this date last year. The earliest signs of spring in vegetation noticed thus far are the maple sap, the willow catkins, grass on south banks, and perhaps cowslip in sheltered places. Alder catkins loosened, and also white maple buds loosened."); March 28, 1857 ("The maple sap has been flowing well for two or three weeks. )
When the river breaks up, it will go down the Concord into the Merrimack, and down the Merrimack into the sea. See April 14, 1852 ("The streams break up; the ice goes to the sea. Then sails the fish hawk overhead, looking for his prey.")
Journal, March 16, 1857: To Cambridge and Boston. See December 22, 1856; July 2, 1856; March 2, 1856; March 26, 1856; July 4, 1855
Journal, March 16, 1858: The crowing of cocks and the cawing of crows tell the same story. See January 12, 1855 ("Perhaps what most moves us in winter is some reminiscence of far-off summer. . . .It is in the cawing of the crow, the crowing of the cock, the warmth of the sun on our backs."); February 16, 1855 ("A thick fog without rain. Sounds sweet and musical through this air, as crows, cocks, and striking on the rails at a distance.”); December 17, 1855 ("The sound of cock-crowing is so sweet, and I hear the sound of the sawmill even at the door, also the cawing of crows.")
No doubt he had names accordingly for many things for which we have no popular names. See March 5, 1858 ("It was a new light when my; guide gave me Indian names for things for which had only scientific ones before. In proportion as I understood the language, I saw them from a new point of view."); January 15, 1853 ("Science suggests the value of mutual intelligence. I have long known this dust, but, as I did not know the name of it, i. e . what others called it, I therefore could not conveniently speak of it. . ."); May 21, 1851 ("You have a wild savage in you, and a savage name is perchance somewhere recorded as yours.")
A circular mass of foam or white bubbles nearly two inches in diameter. See February 13, 1852 ("I now sit by the little brook in Conant's meadow, where it falls over an oak rail . . .. Bubbles on the surface make a coarse foam. . . .") Journal, March 16, 1859
Launch my boat and sail to Ball's Hill. It is fine clear weather and a strong northwest wind. . . .in each direction the crests of the waves are white, and you cannot sail or row over this watery wilderness without sharing the excitement of this element. See March 16, 1854 (“See and hear honey-bees about my boat in the yard, attracted probably by the beeswax in the grafting-wax which was put on it a year ago. It is warm weather. A thunder-storm in the evening.”); March 16, 1860 (“The ice of the night fills the river in the morning, and I hear it go grating downward at sunrise. As soon as I can get it painted and dried, I launch my boat and make my first voyage for the year up or down the stream, on that element from which I have been de barred for three months and a half.”) See also March 8, 1855 (“This morning I got my boat out of the cellar and turned it up in the yard to let the seams open before I calk it. The blue river, now almost completely open, admonishes me to be swift.”); March 9, 1855 (“Painted the bottom of my boat.”); March 12, 1854 (“A new feature is being added to the landscape, and that is expanses and reaches of blue water. . . .Toward night the water becomes smooth and beautiful. Men are eager to launch their boats and paddle over the meadows.”); March 15, 1854 (“Paint my boat.”);; March 17, 1857 (“This morning it is fair, and I hear the note of the woodpecker on the elms (that early note) and the bluebird again. Launch my boat.”); March 18, 1854 (“Took up my boat, a very heavy one, which was lying on its bottom in the yard, and carried it two rods.”); March 19, 1855 (“A fine clear and warm day for the season. Launch my boat.”); March 19, 1858 ("Another pleasant and warm day. Painted my boat afternoon.”); March 20, 1855 ("A flurry of snow at 7 A. M. I go to turn my boat up.”); March 22, 1854 ("Launch boat and paddle to Fair Haven. Still very cold.”); March 22, 1858 ("Launch my boat and row down stream.”) And see A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Boat in. Boat out.
Journal , March 16, 1860: They cover the apple trees like a black fruit. See March 6, 1854 ("Hear and see the first blackbird, flying east over the Deep Cut, with a tchuck, tchuck, and finally a split whistle."); March 12, 1854 ("This is the blackbird morning. Their sprayey notes and conqueree ring with the song sparrows' jingle all along the river. Thus gradually they acquire confidence to sing."); March 19, 1855 (" I hear at last the tchuck tchuck of a blackbird and, looking up, see him flying high over the river southwesterly in great haste to reach somewhere."); March 22, 1855 ("[T]he blackbirds already sing o-gurgle ee-e-e from time to time on the top of a willow or elm or maple, but oftener a sharp, shrill whistle or a tchuck.”); April 30, 1855 ("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 25, 1860 ("I hear the greatest concerts of blackbirds, – red wings and crow blackbirds nowadays. . .They look like a black fruit on the trees, distributed over the top at pretty equal distances.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Red-wing in Spring
Saw a flock of sheldrakes a hundred rods off, on the Great Meadows. See March 5, 1857 ("I scare up six male sheldrakes, with their black heads, in the Assabet,—the first ducks I have seen"); March 12, 1855 ("Two ducks in river, good size, white beneath with black heads, as they go over."); March 16, 1854 ("I see ducks afar, sailing on the meadow, leaving a long furrow in the water behind them.Watch them at leisure without scaring them, with my glass; observe their free and undisturbed motions. They dive and are gone some time, and come up a rod off. At first I see but one, then, a minute after, three. "); March 16, 1855 ("Scare up two large ducks . . . I think it the goosander or sheldrake. "); March 22, 1858 ("We go along to the pitch pine hill off Abner Buttrick's, and, finding a sheltered and sunny place, we watch the ducks from it with our glass. There are not only gulls, but about forty black ducks and as many sheldrakes . . . I see two of these very far off on a bright-blue bay where the waves are running high. They are two intensely white specks, which yet you might mistake for the foaming crest of waves. Now one disappears, but soon is seen again, and then its companion is lost in like manner, having dived.") See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Goosander, Merganser)
But when they fly they are quite another creature. See March 29, 1854 ("A gull of pure white, - a wave of foam in the air. How simple and wave-like its outline, two curves, - all wing - like a birch scale."); see also March 22, 1858 ("They look bright-white, like snow on the dark-blue water. It is surprising how far they can be seen, how much light they reflect, and how conspicuous they are")
Journal, March 16, 1861: A severe, blocking-up snow-storm. See March 19,1856 ("Though it is quite warm, the air is filled with large, moist snowflakes, of the star form, which are rapidly concealing the very few bare spots on the railroad embankment. It is, indeed, a new snow-storm."); March 25, 1860 ("The morning of the 12th begins with a snow- storm, snowing as seriously and hard as if it were going to last a week and be as memorable as the Great Snow of 1760, and you forget the haze of yesterday and the bluebird. It tries hard but only succeeds to whiten the ground")
A flock of red-wings,
how handsome as they go by.
Bright-scarlet shoulders.
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 © 2009-2019
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