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
Infinite mind. See April 1, 1860 ("I occasionally awake in the night simply to let fall ripe a statement which I had never consciously considered before, and as surprising and novel and agreeable to me as anything can be. As if we only thought by sympathy with the universal mind, which thought while we were asleep.); May 24, 1851 ("My most sacred and memorable life is commonly on awaking in the morning. I frequently awake with an atmosphere about me as if my unremembered dreams had been divine, as if my spirit had journeyed to its native place, and, in the act of reentering its native body, had diffused an elysian fragrance around.”); February 19, 1854 ("The mind of the universe . . . , which we share .")
Journal, March 17, 1853:
Channing says he saw blackbirds yesterday. See March 11, 1852 ("I believe that I saw blackbirds yesterday."); March 17, 1858 ("Now I hear, when passing the south side of the hill, or first when threading the maple swamp far west of it, the tchuck tchuck of a blackbird, and after, a distinct conqueree. So it is a red-wing? Thus these four species of birds have all come in one day, no doubt to almost all parts of the town.") See also note to March 17, 1860 ("How handsome a flock of red-wings,").
It is one of those stones which Schoolcraft describes as found among the Chippeways. [Henry Rowe Schoolcraft (March 28, 1793 – December 10, 1864) was an American ethnologist noted for his early studies of Native American cultures, as well as for his 1832 expedition to the source of the Mississippi River. He is also noted for his major six-volume study of Native Americans published in the 1850s. ~Wikipedia]
The ways are mostly settled, frozen dry. Compare March 17, 1856 ("Going begins to be bad; horses slump; hard turning out."); See March 15, 1860 ("Though it is pretty dry and settled travelling on open roads, it is very muddy still in some roads through woods"); March 19, 1860 ("The road and paths are perfectly dry and settled in the village, except a very little frost still coming out on the south side the street."); March 21, 1858 ("This first spring rain . . .helps take the remaining frost out and settles the ways.")
Journal, March 17, 1854:
Fair Haven is open for half a dozen rods about the shores. See March 18, 1853 ("The ice in Fair Haven is more than half melted, and now the woods beyond the pond, reflected in its serene water where there has been opaque ice so long, affect me as they perhaps will not again this year. “); March 22, 1854 ("Fair Haven still covered and frozen anew in part.”). March 28, 1858 (" Fair Haven Pond is open. This and Flint's and Walden all open together this year"); April 7, 1854 (" Fair Haven is completely open.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out
Journal, March 17, 1855:
White maple blossom-buds look as if bursting; show a rusty, fusty space. See March 14, 1857 ("White maple buds . . .have now a minute orifice at the apex, through which you can even see the anthers.”); March 23, 1853 (“The white maple may perhaps be said to begin to blossom to-day, — the male, — for the stamens, both anthers and filament, are conspicuous on some buds. It has opened unexpectedly, and a rich sight it is, looking up through the expanded buds to the sky.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, White Maple Buds and Flowers
Journal, March 17, 1856:
Going begins to be bad; horses slump; hard turning out. See March 5, 1856 ("It is very hard turning out, there is so much snow in the road. Your horse springs and flounders in it.”); March 30, 1856 (“[T]he Corner road is impassable to horses, because of their slumping in the old snow”). Compare February 9, 1855 (“The snow is so light and dry that it rises like spray or foam before the legs of the horses. They dash it before them upward like water. It is a handsome sight, a span of horses at a little distance dashing through it, like suds around their legs.”) and March 17, 1853 ("The ways are mostly settled, frozen dry.")
Journal, March 17, 1857:
I notice that woodpecker-like whar-whar-whar-whar-whar-whar, earliest spring sound. See February 17, 1855 ("Can it be a jay? or a pigeon woodpecker? Is it not the earliest springward note of a bird?”);February 18, 1857 ("When I step out into the yard I hear that earliest spring note from some bird, perhaps a pigeon woodpecker . . . , the rapid whar whar, whar whar, whar whar, which I have so often heard before any other note.”); March 5, 1859 ("Going down-town this forenoon, I heard a white-bellied nuthatch on an elm within twenty feet, uttering peculiar notes and more like a song than I remember to have heard from it.. . .It was something like to-what what what what what, rapidly repeated, and not the usual gnah gnah; and this instant it occurs to me that this may be that earliest spring note which I hear, and have referred to a woodpecker! (This is before I have chanced to see a bluebird, blackbird, or robin in Concord this year.) It is the spring note of the nuthatch"); March 18, 1857 ("I hear the faint fine notes of apparent nuthatches coursing up the pitch pines, a pair of them, one answering to the other, as it were like a vibrating watch-spring. Then, at a distance, that whar-whar-whar-whar-whar-whar, which after all I suspect may be the note of the nuthatch and not a woodpecker. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Nuthatch
No mortal is alert enough to be present at the first dawn of the spring. See March 15, 1857 (“An early dawn and premature blush of spring, at which I was not present.”); March 17, 1852 (“There is a moment in the dawn,. . . when we see things more truly than at any other time.”); March 22, 1854 ("I have an appointment with spring. She comes to the window to wake me, and I go forth an hour or two earlier than usual");Walden, “Spring” ("I am on the alert for the first signs of spring,”); Walden (“ The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake.”); Walden ("We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, by an infinite expectation of the dawn.”); January 26, 1853 (“ I look back for the era of this creation, not into the night, but to a dawn for which no man ever rose early enough.”); and note to June 13, 1852 ("All things in this world must be seen with the morning dew on them, must be seen with youthful, early-opened, hopeful eyes. ")
Journal, March 17, 1858:
Hear the first bluebird though I do not distinctly see them. See March 26, 1860 ("The bluebird may be seen February 24, as in '50, '57, and '60, or not till March 24, as in '56, — say twenty-eight days”); 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.”); March 18, 1858 (“I see this afternoon as many as a dozen bluebirds on the warm side of a wood.”); March 19, 1855 ("I hear my first bluebird, somewhere about Cheney’s trees by the river. I hear him out of the blue deeps, but do not yet see his blue body. He comes with a warble.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bluebird in Early Spring.
Ah! there is the note of the first flicker, a prolonged, monotonous wick-wick-wick-wick-wick-wick, etc., or, if you please, quick-quick, heard far over and through the dry leaves. See April 8, 1855 ("Hear and see a pigeon woodpecker, something like week-up week-up."): April 22, 1856 ("Joins his mate on a tree and utters the wooing note o-week o-week, etc"); April 23, 1855 ("Saw two pigeon woodpeckers approach and, I think, put their bills together and utter that o-week, o-week"); Compare March 17, 1857 (“I notice that woodpecker-like whar-whar-whar-whar-whar-whar, earliest spring sound. “); February 18, 1857 ("When I step out into the yard I hear that earliest spring note from some bird, perhaps a pigeon woodpecker . . ., the rapid whar whar, whar whar, whar whar, which I have so often heard before any other note.”); February 17, 1855 (" Can it be a jay? or a pigeon woodpecker? Is it not the earliest springward note of a bird?”); and March 5, 1859 ("Going down-town this forenoon, I heard a white-bellied nuthatch on an elm within twenty feet, uttering peculiar notes and more like a song than I remember to have heard from it.. . .It was something like to-what what what what what, rapidly repeated, and not the usual gnah gnah; and this instant it occurs to me that this may be that earliest spring note which I hear, and have referred to a woodpecker! . . .It is the spring note of the nuthatch"). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Pigeon Woodpecker (flicker)
I am most sensible of the presence of these plants when the ground is first drying at this season. See March 4, 1854 (“The checkerberries are revealed, — somewhat shrivelled many of them.”); March 10, 1855 ("Those reddening leaves, as the checkerberry, lambkill, etc., etc., which at the beginning of winter were greenish, are now a deeper red, when the snow goes off.”) See also Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Checkerberry
I hear a faint note far in the wood which reminds me of the robin. See See March 8, 1855 ("I hear the hasty, shuffling, as if frightened, note of a robin from a dense birch wood, —. . . This sound reminds me of rainy, misty April days in past years."); March 12, 1854 ("I hear my first robin peep distinctly at a distance. No singing yet.”); March 14, 1854 ("Count over forty robins with my glass in the meadow north of Sleepy Hollow, in the grass and on the snow.“); March 18, 1858 (“The robin does not come singing, but utters a somewhat anxious or inquisitive peep at first.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Robins in Spring
The tchuck tchuck of a blackbird, and after, a distinct conqueree. See March 17, 1860 ("How handsome a flock of red-wings, ever changing its oval form as it advances, by the rear birds passing the others!"); 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 14, 1852 ("I see a flock of blackbirds and hear their conqueree."); March 18, 1858 ("When the blackbird gets to a conqueree he seems to be dreaming of the sprays that are to be and on which he is to perch."); 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 19, 1858 ("The red-wing's gurgle-ee is heard when smooth waters begin; they come together."); 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.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Red-wing in Spring
Journal, March 17, 1859:
I hear a robin fairly singing. See March 12, 1854 ("I hear my first robin peep distinctly at a distance. No singing yet.”); March 18, 1858 (“The robin does not come singing, but utters a somewhat anxious or inquisitive peep at first.”) See also note to March 17, 1858 and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Robins in Spring
It is very warm. I wear but one coat on the water. See March 17, 1854 ("A remarkably warm day for the season; too warm while surveying without my great coat; almost like May heats.”); 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")
There is still perhaps a half-acre of ice at the bottom of the deep south bay of Walden. See note to March 14, 1860 ("I am surprised to find Walden open. There is only about an acre of ice at the southeast end . . . and a little old and firm and snowy in the bottom of the deep south bay.")
A little ice at the southeast end of Goose Pond. See March 11, 1861 ("Goose Pond is to-day all ice."); March 21, 1855 ("Crossed Goose Pond on ice."); March 24, 1854 (" Goose Pond half open.")
Ripple Lake is mostly covered yet. See March 14, 1860 ("I see some dark ripples already drop and sweep over the surface of [Walden], as they will ere long over Ripple Lake and other pools in the wood."); April 9, 1859 ("We sit by the side of Little Goose Pond, which C. calls Ripple Lake or Pool, to watch the ripples on it.")
I see a large flock of sheldrakes . See March 16, 1854 "I see ducks afar. . . bright white breasts, etc., and black heads about same size or larger . . .Probably both sheldrakes.”); March 16, 1855 ("scare up two large ducks . . .. One very large; white beneath, breast and neck; black head and wings and aft. . . . I think it the goosander or sheldrake."); March 23, 1859 ("As we sit there, we see coming, swift and straight, northeast along the river valley, not seeing us and therefore not changing his course, a male goosander, . . .. He looks like a paddle-wheel steamer, so oddly painted up, black and white and green, and moves along swift and straight like one."); See also Henry Thoreau, A Book of the Seasons, The Sheldrake (Merganser, Goosander)
How handsome a flock of red-wings, ever changing its oval form as it advances. See March 13, 1859 (" I see a small flock of blackbirds flying over, some rising, others falling, yet all advancing together, one flock but many birds, some silent, others tchucking, — incessant alternation. This harmonious movement as in a dance, this agreeing to differ, makes the charm of the spectacle to me. One bird looks fractional, naked, like a single thread or ravelling from the web to which it belongs. Alternation! Alternation! Heaven and hell ! Here again in the flight of a bird, its ricochet motion, is that undulation observed in so many materials, as in the mackerel sky."): March 16, 1860 ("Here is a flock of red-wings. . . . How handsome as they go by in a checker, each with a bright-scarlet shoulder!."); May 5, 1859 ("Red-wings fly in flocks yet.").
I see another, a brown one. See April 23, 1855 ("I have seen also for some weeks occasionally a brown hawk with white rump, flying low, which I have thought the frog hawk in a different stage of plumage; but can it be at this season? and is it not the marsh hawk? . . . -- probably female hen-harrier."); October 18, 1855 ("A large brown marsh hawk comes beating the bush along the river, and ere long a slate-colored one (male), with black tips, is seen circling against a distant wood-side"); May 14, 1857 ("See a pair of marsh hawks, the smaller and lighter-colored male, with black tips to wings, and the large brown female, sailing low . . .apparently looking for frogs or the like.");. March 21, 1859 ("I see a female marsh hawk sailing and hunting over Potter's Swamp. I not only see the white rump but the very peculiar crescent-shaped curve of its wings"). See also April 5, 1854 ("These days, when a soft west or southwest wind blows and it is truly warm, and an outside coat is oppressive, — these bring out the butterflies and the frogs, and the marsh hawks which prey on the last. Just so simple is every year.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Marsh Hawk (Northern Harrier)
After the darkness
that moment in the dawn when
we see things truly.
March 17, 1852
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
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