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 20, 1852:
As to the birds which came here in the winter. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Winter Birds
Pine grosbeaks and the snow bunting. See December 24, 1851 (“It spits snow this afternoon. Saw a flock of snowbirds on the Walden road.. . .The snow bunting (Emberiza nivalis) methinks it is, so white and arctic, not the slate-colored. Saw also some pine grosbeaks, magnificent winter birds . . .”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Snow Bunting
I have noticed the chubby slate-colored snowbird (Fringilla hyemalis?) See March 20, 1855 ("At my landing I hear the F. hyemalis,”); March 20, 1858 ("The note of the F. hyemalis, or chill-lill, is a jingle, with also a shorter and drier crackling or shuffling chip as it flits by."); March 19, 1858 (Hear the pleasant chill-lill of the F. hyemalis, the first time have heard this note.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco.
Journal, March 20, 1853:
It is the contrast between life and death. There is the difference between winter and spring. The bared face of the pond sparkles with joy. See Walden ("Walden is melting apace. There is a canal two rods wide along the northerly and westerly sides, and wider still at the east end. A great field of ice has cracked off from the main body. I hear a song sparrow singing from the bushes on the shore — olit, olit, olit-chip, chip, chip, che char-che wiss, wiss, wiss. He too is helping to crack it. How handsome the great sweeping curves in the edge of the ice, answering somewhat to those of the shore, but more regular! It is unusually hard, owing to the recent severe but transient cold, and all watered or waved like a palace floor. But the wind slides eastward over its opaque surface in vain, till it reaches the living surface beyond. It is glorious to behold this ribbon of water sparkling in the sun, the bare face of the pond full of glee and youth, as if it spoke the joy of the fishes within it, and of the sands on its shore — a silvery sheen as from the scales of a leuciscus, as it were all one active fish. Such is the contrast between winter and spring. Walden was dead and is alive again. But this spring it broke up more steadily, as I have said.") See also Walden: ("Walden was first completely open in 1845 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.”); April 9, 1854 ("I am surprised to find Walden completely open. When did it open ? According to all accounts, it must have been between the 6th and 9th."); March 29, 1855 ("As I stand on Heywood’s Peak, looking over Walden, more than half its surface already sparkling blue water, I inhale with pleasure the cold but wholesome air like a draught of cold water”); April 18, 1856 ("Walden is open entirely to-day for the first time, owing to the rain of yesterday and evening. I have observed its breaking up of different years commencing in ’45, and the average date has been April 4th.“);
March 29, 1857 ("Walden open, say to-day, though there is still a little ice in the deep southern bay and a very narrow edging along the southern shore.”); March 28, 1858 (“Walden is open. When? On the 20th it was pretty solid. C. sees a very little ice in it to-day, but probably it gets entirely free to-night.”); March 29, 1859 ("Walden is first clear after to-day.”); March 14, 1860 ("No sooner has the ice of Walden melted than the wind begins to play in dark ripples over the surface of the virgin water. Ice dissolved is the next moment as perfect water as if melted a million years.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out
Journal, March 20, 1855:
It is remarkable by what a gradation of days which we call pleasant and warm. See April 26, 1860 ("What we should have called a warm day in March is a cold one at this date in April.”)
Journal, March 20, 1856:
Where I saw those furrows in the sand in Nut Meadow Brook the other day. See March 18, 1856 (“I see many small furrows, freshly made, in the sand at the bottom of the brook, from half an inch to three quarters wide, which I suspect are made by some small shellfish already moving.”)
Set a pail before coming here to catch red maple sap, at Trillium Wood. I am now looking after spouts. See March 15, 1856 ("Put a spout in the red maple of yesterday, and hang a pail beneath to catch the sap")
Journal, March 20, 1857:
He thinks that the suckers die of asphyxia. . . a different phenomenon from the one I speak of, which last is confined to the very earliest spring or winter. See March 28, 1857 ("When I realize that the mortality of suckers in the spring is as old a phenomenon, perchance, as the race of suckers itself, I contemplate it with serenity and joy even, as one of the signs of spring."); March 19, 1857 ("I observed yesterday a dead shiner by the riverside, and to-day the first sucker."); April 14, 1856 ("I see the first dead sucker"); April 10, 1855("Saw a tolerably fresh sucker floating."); May 23, 1854 ("How many springs shall I continue to see the common sucker (Catostomus Bostoniensis) floating dead on our river!")
The dryness of the lycoperdon fungus in water which I showed. See February 8, 1857 ("To my surprise, when held under water it looked like a mass of silver or melted lead, it was so coated with air,. . .It was impossible to wet. It seems to be encased in a silvery coat of air which is water-tight.")
He had broken caterpillars and found the crystals of ice in them, but had not thawed them. See February 12, 1857 ("The caterpillar, which I placed last night on the snow beneath the thermometer, is frozen stiff again, this time not being curled up, the temperature being -6° now. Yet, being placed on the mantelpiece, it thaws and begins to crawl in five or ten minutes, before the rear half of its body is limber.")
My experiment on a frozen fish. See January 4, 1856 ("[T]hinking of what I had heard about fishes coming to life again after being frozen, on being put into water, I thought I would try it. . . . ")
Aristotle describes the care the pouts take of their young. See July 15, 1856 ("I saw a school of a thousand little pouts about three quarters of an inch long without any attending pout, and now have no doubt that the pout I had caught (but let go again) was tending them.")
Journal, March 20, 1858:
The note of the F. hyemalis, or chill-lill, is a jingle, with also a shorter and drier crackling or shuffling chip as it flits by. See March 19, 1858 (Hear the pleasant chill-lill of the F. hyemalis, the first time have heard this note.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco.
Fair Haven is still closed. See March 19, 1855 (" I am surprised to find that the river has not yet worn through Fair Haven Pond.”); March 26, 1860 ("Fair Haven Pond may be open by the 20th of March, as this year, or not till April 13 as in '56, or twenty-three days later." See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out
The note of a woodpecker, not that very early gnah gnah, which I have not heard this year. See 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.”)
The pitch pine wood be hind Baker's. See July 16, 1851 ("I come through the pine plains behind James Baker's, where late was open pasture, now open pitch pine woods; only here and there the grass has given place to a carpet of pine-needles. These are among our pleasantest woods")
Journal, March 20, 1859:
The F. hyemalis have remarkably distinct light-colored bills, and when they stretch, show very distinct clear-white lateral tail-feathers.. . . They have considerable brown on the quill-feathers. See March 20, 1852 ("And now, within a day or two, I have noticed the chubby slate-colored snowbird (Fringilla hyemalis?), and I drive the flocks before me on the railroad causeway as I walk. It has two white feathers in its tail")'; March 20, 1855 ("At my landing I hear the F. hyemalis, in company with a few tree sparrows. They take refuge from the cold wind, half a dozen in all, behind an arbor-vitae hedge, and there plume themselves with puffed-up feathers."); March 20, 1858 ("The note of the F. hyemalis, or chill-lill, is a jingle, with also a shorter and drier crackling or shuffling chip as it flits by."); March 28, 1853 ("The woods ring with the cheerful jingle of the F. hyemalis. This is a very trig and compact little bird, and appears to be in good condition. The straight edge of slate on their breasts contrasts remarkably with the white from beneath ; the short, light-colored bill is also very conspicuous amid the dark slate ; and when they fly from you, the two white feathers in their tails are very distinct at a good distance. They are very lively, pursuing each other from bush to bush."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco.
The tree sparrows sing a little. See March 20, 1855 ("At my landing I hear the F. hyemalis, in company with a few tree sparrows. They take refuge from the cold wind, half a dozen in all, behind an arbor-vitae hedge, and there plume themselves with puffed-up feathers.");March 20, 1858 ("The tree sparrow is perhaps the sweetest and most melodious warbler at present and for some days."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Tree Sparrow.
Journal, March 20, 1860:
Worm-piles in dooryard this morning. See April 14, 1859 (“There are many worm holes or piles in the door-yard this forenoon. How long?”); April 26, 1856 (“Worm-piles about the door-step this morning; how long?”)
You hardly know whether to open your umbrella or not. March 21, 1858 ("This first spring rain is very agreeable. I love to hear the pattering of the drops on my umbrella, and I love also the wet scent of the umbrella. ")
The season when you sit under a bridge and watch the dimples made by the rain. See March 21, 1858 ("Standing by that pool, it is pleasant to see the dimples made on its smooth surface by the big drops, after the rain has held up a quarter of an hour."); July 31, 1860 ("The differently shaded or lit currents of the river through it all; but anon it begins to rain very hard, and a myriad white globules dance or rebound an inch or two from the surface, where the big drops fall, and I hear a sound as if it rains pebbles or shot.")
These gyrate in the air as water-bugs on the water. See March 20, 1858 ("It cheers me more to behold the swarms of gnats which have revived in the spring sun"); March 19, 1858 ("They keep up a circulation in the air like water-bugs on the water.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Fuzzy Gnats (tipulidæ) and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Water-bug (Gyrinus) and Skaters (Hydrometridae)
It is the contrast between life and death. There is the difference between winter and spring. The bared face of the pond sparkles with joy. See Walden ("Walden is melting apace. There is a canal two rods wide along the northerly and westerly sides, and wider still at the east end. A great field of ice has cracked off from the main body. I hear a song sparrow singing from the bushes on the shore — olit, olit, olit-chip, chip, chip, che char-che wiss, wiss, wiss. He too is helping to crack it. How handsome the great sweeping curves in the edge of the ice, answering somewhat to those of the shore, but more regular! It is unusually hard, owing to the recent severe but transient cold, and all watered or waved like a palace floor. But the wind slides eastward over its opaque surface in vain, till it reaches the living surface beyond. It is glorious to behold this ribbon of water sparkling in the sun, the bare face of the pond full of glee and youth, as if it spoke the joy of the fishes within it, and of the sands on its shore — a silvery sheen as from the scales of a leuciscus, as it were all one active fish. Such is the contrast between winter and spring. Walden was dead and is alive again. But this spring it broke up more steadily, as I have said.") See also Walden: ("Walden was first completely open in 1845 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.”); April 9, 1854 ("I am surprised to find Walden completely open. When did it open ? According to all accounts, it must have been between the 6th and 9th."); March 29, 1855 ("As I stand on Heywood’s Peak, looking over Walden, more than half its surface already sparkling blue water, I inhale with pleasure the cold but wholesome air like a draught of cold water”); April 18, 1856 ("Walden is open entirely to-day for the first time, owing to the rain of yesterday and evening. I have observed its breaking up of different years commencing in ’45, and the average date has been April 4th.“);
March 29, 1857 ("Walden open, say to-day, though there is still a little ice in the deep southern bay and a very narrow edging along the southern shore.”); March 28, 1858 (“Walden is open. When? On the 20th it was pretty solid. C. sees a very little ice in it to-day, but probably it gets entirely free to-night.”); March 29, 1859 ("Walden is first clear after to-day.”); March 14, 1860 ("No sooner has the ice of Walden melted than the wind begins to play in dark ripples over the surface of the virgin water. Ice dissolved is the next moment as perfect water as if melted a million years.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out
Journal, March 20, 1855:
It is remarkable by what a gradation of days which we call pleasant and warm. See April 26, 1860 ("What we should have called a warm day in March is a cold one at this date in April.”)
Journal, March 20, 1856:
Where I saw those furrows in the sand in Nut Meadow Brook the other day. See March 18, 1856 (“I see many small furrows, freshly made, in the sand at the bottom of the brook, from half an inch to three quarters wide, which I suspect are made by some small shellfish already moving.”)
Set a pail before coming here to catch red maple sap, at Trillium Wood. I am now looking after spouts. See March 15, 1856 ("Put a spout in the red maple of yesterday, and hang a pail beneath to catch the sap")
Journal, March 20, 1857:
He thinks that the suckers die of asphyxia. . . a different phenomenon from the one I speak of, which last is confined to the very earliest spring or winter. See March 28, 1857 ("When I realize that the mortality of suckers in the spring is as old a phenomenon, perchance, as the race of suckers itself, I contemplate it with serenity and joy even, as one of the signs of spring."); March 19, 1857 ("I observed yesterday a dead shiner by the riverside, and to-day the first sucker."); April 14, 1856 ("I see the first dead sucker"); April 10, 1855("Saw a tolerably fresh sucker floating."); May 23, 1854 ("How many springs shall I continue to see the common sucker (Catostomus Bostoniensis) floating dead on our river!")
The dryness of the lycoperdon fungus in water which I showed. See February 8, 1857 ("To my surprise, when held under water it looked like a mass of silver or melted lead, it was so coated with air,. . .It was impossible to wet. It seems to be encased in a silvery coat of air which is water-tight.")
He had broken caterpillars and found the crystals of ice in them, but had not thawed them. See February 12, 1857 ("The caterpillar, which I placed last night on the snow beneath the thermometer, is frozen stiff again, this time not being curled up, the temperature being -6° now. Yet, being placed on the mantelpiece, it thaws and begins to crawl in five or ten minutes, before the rear half of its body is limber.")
My experiment on a frozen fish. See January 4, 1856 ("[T]hinking of what I had heard about fishes coming to life again after being frozen, on being put into water, I thought I would try it. . . . ")
Aristotle describes the care the pouts take of their young. See July 15, 1856 ("I saw a school of a thousand little pouts about three quarters of an inch long without any attending pout, and now have no doubt that the pout I had caught (but let go again) was tending them.")
Journal, March 20, 1858:
The note of the F. hyemalis, or chill-lill, is a jingle, with also a shorter and drier crackling or shuffling chip as it flits by. See March 19, 1858 (Hear the pleasant chill-lill of the F. hyemalis, the first time have heard this note.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco.
Fair Haven is still closed. See March 19, 1855 (" I am surprised to find that the river has not yet worn through Fair Haven Pond.”); March 26, 1860 ("Fair Haven Pond may be open by the 20th of March, as this year, or not till April 13 as in '56, or twenty-three days later." See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out
The note of a woodpecker, not that very early gnah gnah, which I have not heard this year. See 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.”)
The pitch pine wood be hind Baker's. See July 16, 1851 ("I come through the pine plains behind James Baker's, where late was open pasture, now open pitch pine woods; only here and there the grass has given place to a carpet of pine-needles. These are among our pleasantest woods")
Journal, March 20, 1859:
The F. hyemalis have remarkably distinct light-colored bills, and when they stretch, show very distinct clear-white lateral tail-feathers.. . . They have considerable brown on the quill-feathers. See March 20, 1852 ("And now, within a day or two, I have noticed the chubby slate-colored snowbird (Fringilla hyemalis?), and I drive the flocks before me on the railroad causeway as I walk. It has two white feathers in its tail")'; March 20, 1855 ("At my landing I hear the F. hyemalis, in company with a few tree sparrows. They take refuge from the cold wind, half a dozen in all, behind an arbor-vitae hedge, and there plume themselves with puffed-up feathers."); March 20, 1858 ("The note of the F. hyemalis, or chill-lill, is a jingle, with also a shorter and drier crackling or shuffling chip as it flits by."); March 28, 1853 ("The woods ring with the cheerful jingle of the F. hyemalis. This is a very trig and compact little bird, and appears to be in good condition. The straight edge of slate on their breasts contrasts remarkably with the white from beneath ; the short, light-colored bill is also very conspicuous amid the dark slate ; and when they fly from you, the two white feathers in their tails are very distinct at a good distance. They are very lively, pursuing each other from bush to bush."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco.
The tree sparrows sing a little. See March 20, 1855 ("At my landing I hear the F. hyemalis, in company with a few tree sparrows. They take refuge from the cold wind, half a dozen in all, behind an arbor-vitae hedge, and there plume themselves with puffed-up feathers.");March 20, 1858 ("The tree sparrow is perhaps the sweetest and most melodious warbler at present and for some days."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Tree Sparrow.
Journal, March 20, 1860:
Worm-piles in dooryard this morning. See April 14, 1859 (“There are many worm holes or piles in the door-yard this forenoon. How long?”); April 26, 1856 (“Worm-piles about the door-step this morning; how long?”)
You hardly know whether to open your umbrella or not. March 21, 1858 ("This first spring rain is very agreeable. I love to hear the pattering of the drops on my umbrella, and I love also the wet scent of the umbrella. ")
The season when you sit under a bridge and watch the dimples made by the rain. See March 21, 1858 ("Standing by that pool, it is pleasant to see the dimples made on its smooth surface by the big drops, after the rain has held up a quarter of an hour."); July 31, 1860 ("The differently shaded or lit currents of the river through it all; but anon it begins to rain very hard, and a myriad white globules dance or rebound an inch or two from the surface, where the big drops fall, and I hear a sound as if it rains pebbles or shot.")
These gyrate in the air as water-bugs on the water. See March 20, 1858 ("It cheers me more to behold the swarms of gnats which have revived in the spring sun"); March 19, 1858 ("They keep up a circulation in the air like water-bugs on the water.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Fuzzy Gnats (tipulidæ) and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Water-bug (Gyrinus) and Skaters (Hydrometridae)
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