March 4. A hawk rises and sails away over the Wood as in the summer.

 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

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 4, 1852:

I cut my initials on the bee tree. See February 10, 1852 ("I saw yesterday on the snow on the ice, on the south side of Fair Haven Pond, some hundreds of honey-bees, dead and sunk half an inch below the crust. They had evidently come forth from their hive (perhaps in a large hemlock on the bank close by), and had fallen on the snow chilled to death. Their bodies extended from the tree to about three rods from it toward the pond. Pratt says he would advise me to remove the dead bees, lest somebody else should be led to discover their retreat, and I may get five dollars for the swarm, and perhaps a good deal of honey."); September 30, 1852 ("Custom gives the first finder of the nest a right to the honey and to cut down the tree "); February 25, 1856 ( "As I stood there, I saw that they had just felled my bee tree, the hemlock. The chopper even then stood at its foot. I went over and saw him cut into the cavity at my direction. He broke a piece out of his axe as big as my nail against a hemlock knot in the meanwhile. There was no comb within.”)

I see where a maple has been wounded the sap is flowing out. Now, then, is the time to make sugar. See February 21, 1857 ("Am surprised to see this afternoon a boy collecting red maple sap from some trees behind George Hubbard's.”); March 3, 1857 ("The red maple sap, which I first noticed the 21st of February, is now frozen up in the auger-holes ."); 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 14, 1856 ("Tapped several white maples with my knife, but find no sap flowing; but, just 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.”)

As I sit an invisible flame and smoke seems to ascend from the leaves, and the sun shines with a genial warmth. See March 4, 1855 (“Though a cold and strong wind, it is very warm in the sun, and we can sit in the sun where sheltered on these rocks with impunity. It is a genial warmth. The rustle of the dry leaves . . . reminds me of fires in the woods. They are almost ready to burn.”)

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 4, 1854:

The checkerberries are revealed, — somewhat shrivelled many of them. See 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.”) Also note to May 21, 1857 (“I find checkerberries still fresh and abundant. ”) Note “checkerberry" is another name for American wintergreen (Gaultheria procumbens). See Checkerberry cum Wintergreen. What HDT calls “wintergreen” is Chimaphila umbellata, a/k/a pipsissewa. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: Checkerberry.

I begin to sniff the air and smell the ground. See February 18, 1857 (“I was surprised to find how sweet the whole ground smelled when I lay flat and applied my nose to it”); March 18,1853 ("To-day first I smelled the earth.”); April 2, 1856 ("I am tempted to stretch myself on the bare ground above the Cliff, to feel its warmth in my back, and smell the earth and the dry leaves.”); May 4, 1859 ("I draw near to the land; I begin to lie down and stretch myself on it. After my winter voyage I begin to smell the land.”); May 16, 1852 ("The whole earth is fragrant as a bouquet held to your nose.")


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 4, 1855:

Though a cold and strong wind, it is very warm in the sun, and we can sit in the sun where sheltered on these rocks with impunity. It is a genial warmth. See March 4, 1852 (“Seeking a sunny nook on the south side of a wood which keeps off the cold wind, sitting among the maples and the swamp white oaks which are frozen in, I hear the chickadees and the belching of the ice. The sun has got a new power in his rays after all, cold as the weather is. . . .I find a place on the south side of this rocky hill where the snow is melted and the bare gray rock appears, covered with mosses and lichens and beds of oak leaves in the hollows. As I sit an invisible flame and smoke seems to ascend from the leaves, and the sun shines with a genial warmth.”)

River channel fairly open. See March 4, 1854 (“I can no longer get on to the river ice.”); Compare March 4, 1852 ("The river is frozen solidly, and I do not have to look out for openings.”); March 14, 1856 (" I still travel everywhere on the middle of the river.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out

This season of springlike weather between the first decidedly springlike day and the first bluebird, already fourteen days long. See February 22, 1855 ("Remarkably warm and pleasant weather, perfect spring. I even listen for the first bluebird.”); March 1, 1855 ("We go listening for bluebirds, but only hear crows and chickadees.”) March 2, 1855 ("I go listening, but in vain, for the warble of a bluebird from the old orchard across the river."); March 9, 1852 ("I hear and see bluebirds, come with the warm wind."); 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 15, 1852 ("This afternoon I throw off my outside coat. A mild spring day. The air is full of bluebirds. . . . The villagers are out in the sun, and every man is happy whose work takes him outdoors. . . .I lean over a rail to hear what is in the air, liquid with the bluebirds' warble. My life partakes of infinity.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bluebird in Early Spring.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 4, 1856:

We grieve that we do not love each other. See e.g. January 21, 1852 ("I never realized so distinctly as this moment that I am peacefully parting company with the best friend I ever had,. . . Simply our paths diverge."); June 11, 1855 ("What if we feel a yearning to which no breast answers? I walk alone. My heart is full. Feelings impede the current of my thoughts. I knock on the earth but no friend appears, and perhaps none is dreaming of me"); March 28, 1856 ("Farewell, my friends, my path inclines to this side the mountain, yours to that."): February 8, 1857 ("And now another friendship is ended. I do not know what has made my friend doubt me, but I know that in love there is no mistake, and that every estrangement is well founded. . . . am perfectly sad at parting from you. I could better have the earth taken away from under my feet, than the thought of you from my mind. ")

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 4, 1860:

There is a broad and very black space extending through Fair Haven Pond over the channel, visible half a mile off, where the ice is thinnest and saturated with water.  See March 4, 1855 ("River channel fairly open.") See also March 30, 1852 (" From the Cliffs I see that Fair Haven Pond is open over the channel of the river, - which is in fact thus only revealed, of the same width as elsewhere, running from the end of Baker's Wood to the point of the Island. The slight current there has worn away the ice. I never knew before exactly where the channel was.") See also February 28, 1857 ("Nearly one third the channel is open in Fair Haven Pond. ");. March 26, 1860 ("Fair Haven Pond may be open by the 20th of March, as this year [1860], or not till April 13 as in '56, or twenty-three days later"); March 29, 1854 ("Fair Haven half open; channel wholly open. Thin cakes of ice at a distance now and then blown up on their edges glistening in the sun.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out

I saw half a dozen crows on a cake of ice in the middle of the Great Meadows yesterday, evidently looking for some favorite food which is washed on to it, - snails, or cranberries perhaps. See March 5, 1859 (" I see crows walking about on the ice half covered with snow in the middle of the meadows, where there is no grass, apparently to pick up the worms and other insects left there since the midwinter freshet."); March 22, 1854 ("See crows along the water's edge. What do they eat?"): March 22, 1855 (" I have noticed crows in the meadows ever since they were first partially bare, three weeks ago "); March 22, 1856 ("Many tracks of crows in snow along the edge of the open water against Merrick’s at Island. They thus visit the edge of water—this and brooks —before any ground is exposed. Is it for small shellfish?"); March 20, 1856 ("Perhaps these [Paludina decisa] make part of the food of the crows which visit this brook and whose tracks I now see on the edge, and have all winter. Probably they also pick up some dead frogs"); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the American Crow

 

A hen-hawk rises and sails away over the Holden Wood as in summer. Saw and heard one scream the 2d. See March 6, 1858 ("I see the first hen-hawk, or hawk of any kind, methinks, since the beginning of winter, Its scream, even, is inspiring as the voice of a spring bird");. March 8, 1857 ("Get a glimpse of a hawk, the first of the season"); March 15, 1856 ("Hear two hawks scream. There is something truly March-like in it, like a prolonged blast or whistling of the wind"); March 15, 1860 ("A hen-hawk sails away from the wood southward. These hawks, as usual, began to be common about the first of March, showing that they were returning from their winter quarters."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The hen-hawk

Aspen down a quarter of an inch out. See February 6, 1856 ("The down is just peeping out from some of the aspen buds"); February 27. 1852 ("The buds of the aspen show a part of their down or silky catkins."); March 6, 1853 ("Last Sunday I plucked some alder twigs, some aspen, and some swamp willow, and put them in water in a warm room. In about four days the aspens began to show their red anthers and feathery scales, being an inch in length and still extending.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Aspens.

March 4. 

A hawk rises and

sails away over the Wood

as in the summer.

March 4, 1860

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