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 6, 1852:
I told him I was studying lichens. Found three or four parmelias caperata) in fruit on a white oak on the high river-bank between Tarbell's and Harrington's. See February 6, 1852 ("Near the C. Miles house there are some remarkably yellow lichens (parmelias?) on the rails, -- ever as if the sun were about to shine forth clearly"); March 1, 1852 ("There is a certain advantage in these hard and precise terms, such as the lichenist uses."); March 5, 1852 ("I find myself inspecting little granules, as it were, on the bark of trees , little shields or apothecia springing from a thallus, such is the mood of my mind , and I call it studying lichens."); March 7, 1852 ("The student of lichens has his objects of study brought to his study on his fuel without any extra expense.")
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 6, 1853:
Part of the pitch pine cones are yet closed. See January 25, 1856 (“A closed pitch pine cone gathered January 22d opened last night in my chamber.”); February 22, 1855 (“Pitch pine cones must be taken from the tree at the right season, else they will not open or “blossom” in a chamber.” );February 27, 1853 (“ Each scale, which is very elaborately and perfectly constructed, is armed with a short spine, pointing downward, as if to protect its seed from squirrels and birds. That hard closed cone, which defied all violent attempts to open it has thus yielded to the gentle persuasion of warmth and dryness. The expanding of the pine cones, that, too, is a season.”); March 1, 1856 ("I see a pitch pine seed with its wing, far out on Walden.”); March 3, 1855 ("I find a cone which was probably dropped by a squirrel in the fall, [and] buried by the snow till now, for it has apparently just opened, and I shake its seeds out.”); April 19, 1856 (“As dryness will open the pitch pine cone, so moisture closes it up again. “) and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Pitch Pine.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 6, 1854:
I see the skunk-cabbage started about the spring at head of Hubbard's Close. See March 2, 1859 (“Under the alders at Well Meadow I see a few skunk- cabbage spathes fairly open on the side, and these may bloom after a day or two of pleasant weather.”):March 8, 1855 ("As the ice melts in the swamps I see the horn-shaped buds of the skunk-cabbage, green with a bluish bloom, standing uninjured, ready to feel the influence of the sun, - the most prepared for spring—to look at— of any plant.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Skunk Cabbage
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 6, 1855:
Observed a mouse nest where it had been made under the snow, —a nice warm globular nest some five inches in diameter. See February 3, 1856 (“Track some mice to a black willow by riverside, just above spring, against the open swamp; and about three feet high, in apparently an old woodpecker’s hole, was probably the mouse-nest, a double handful, consisting, four ninths, of fine shreds of inner bark, perhaps willow or maple; three ninths, the greenish moss, apparently, of button-bush; two ninths, the gray-slate fur, apparently, of rabbits or mice. Half a dozen hog’s bristles might have been brought by some bird to its nest there. These made a very warm and soft nest.”); February 18, 1857 ("Picked up a mouse-nest in the stubble at Hubbard's mountain sumachs, left bare by the melting snow. It is about five inches wide and three or four high, with one, if not two, small round indistinct entrances on the side, not very obvious till you thrust your finger through them and press aside the fine grass that closes them, . . .A very snug and warm nest, where several might have lain very cosily under the snow in the hardest winter.”); March 22,1855 (“A (probably meadow) mouse nest in the low meadow by stone bridge, where it must have been covered with water a month ago; probably made in fall. Low in the grass, a little dome four inches in diameter, with no sign of entrance, it being very low on one side. Made of fine meadow-grass.”)
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 6, 1856:
On the rock this side the Leaning Hemlocks, is the track of an otter. See December 6, 1856 (“Just this side of Bittern Cliff, I see a very remarkable track of an otter . . .The river was all tracked up with otters, from Bittern Cliff upward. Sometimes one had trailed his tail, apparently edge wise, making a mark like the tail of a deer mouse; sometimes they were moving fast, and there was an interval of five feet between the tracks.”); December 31, 1854 (“ On the edge of A. Wheeler’s cranberry meadow I see the track of an otter made since yesterday morning.”); January 21, 1853 (“I think it was January 20th that I saw that which I think an otter track in path under the Cliffs, — a deep trail in the snow, six or seven inches wide and two or three deep in the middle, as if a log had been drawn along, similar to a muskrat's only much larger, and the legs evidently short and the steps short, sinking three or four inches deeper still, as if it had waddled along.”); February 4, 1855 ("See this afternoon a very distinct otter-track by the Rock, at the junction of the two rivers.”); February 8, 1857 (“The otter must roam about a great deal, for I rarely see fresh tracks in the same neighborhood a second time the same winter, though the old tracks may be apparent all the winter through.”); February 20, 1856 (“See a broad and distinct otter-trail, made last night or yesterday. It came out to the river through the low declivities, making a uniform broad hollow trail there without any mark of its feet. . . .Commonly seven to nine or ten inches wide, and tracks of feet twenty to twenty-four apart; but sometimes there was no track of the feet for twenty-five feet, frequently for six; in the last case swelled in the outline.”); February 22, 1856 (“Just below this bridge begins an otter track, several days old yet very distinct, which I trace half a mile down the river. In the snow less than an inch deep, on the ice, each foot makes a track three inches wide, apparently enlarged in melting. The clear interval, sixteen inches; the length occupied by the four feet, fourteen inches. It looks as if some one had dragged a round timber down the middle of the river a day or two since, which bounced as it went.”)
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 6, 1858:
I have had no river walks before. See January 23, 1858 (" I have not been able to walk up the North Branch this winter, nor along the channel of the South Branch at any time."). Compare December 13, 1859 ("My first true winter walk is perhaps that which I take on the river, or where I cannot go in the summer. It is the walk peculiar to winter, and now first I take it."); December 7, 1856 ("Take my first skate to Fair Haven Pond."); March 4, 1852 ("Now I take that walk along the river highway and the meadow. The river is frozen solidly, and I do not have to look out for openings.")
I see the first hen-hawk, or hawk of any kind, methinks, since the beginning of winter. See February 16, 1854 ("See two large hawks circling over the woods by Walden, hunting, — the first I have seen since December 15th."); March 2, 1855 ("Hear two hawks scream. There is something truly March-like in it, like a prolonged blast or whistling of the wind through a crevice in the sky.”); March 2, 1856 ("I can hardly believe that hen-hawks may be beginning to build their nests now, yet their young were a fortnight old the last of April last year."); March 15, 1860 ("These hawks, as usual, began to be common about the first of March, showing that they were returning from their winter quarters."); March 23, 1859 (“[W]e saw a hen-hawk perch on the topmost plume of one of the tall pines at the head of the meadow. Soon another appeared, probably its mate, but we looked in vain for a nest there. It was a fine sight, their soaring above our heads, presenting a perfect outline and, as they came round, showing their rust-colored tails with a whitish rump, or, as they sailed away from us, that slight teetering or quivering motion of their dark-tipped wings seen edgewise, now on this side, now that, by which they balanced and directed themselves.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The hen-hawk
That light spongy bark about the base of the nesaea appears to be good tinder. See December 18, 1854 ("I am surprised to find in the Andromeda Ponds, especially the westernmost one, north side, an abundance of decodon, or swamp loosestrife"); January 22, 1860 ("At the west or nesaea end of the largest Andromeda Pond, I see that there has been much red ice."); January 24, 1855 ("I observe that the andromeda does not quite fill the pond, but there is an open wet place, with coarse grass, swamp loosestrife, and some button-bush, about a rod wide, surrounding the whole"); February 4, 1858 ("An abundance of nesaea on the east edge of the pond-hole (call it Ledum Pond-hole); and is that a lysimachia mingled with it?");
H.D. Thoreau, Journal, March 6, 1859:
Yellow Birch Swamp. This is also known as Fever-bush Swamp, Rattlesnake Fern Swamp and Botrychium Swamp. See note to July 13, 1857 ("Rattlesnake Fern Swamp'); February 18, 1854 ("Yellow Birch Swamp"); July 10, 1857 ("He found, about a week ago, the Botrychium Virginianum in bloom, about the bass in Fever-bush Swamp.”); September 2, 1857 ("In the botrychium swamp, where the fever-bush is the prevailing underwood "); September 16, 1857 ("Botrychium Swamp"); .May 4, 1859 ("Am struck by the beauty of the yellow birches, now fairly begun to be in bloom, at Yellow Birch, or Botrychium, Swamp.").
Measured a thorn which, at six inches from the ground was two feet three inches in circumference. See September 2, 1857 ("Measured the thorn at Yellow Birch Swamp. At one foot from ground it is a foot and ten inches in circumference.")
The alders, with their reddish catkins. See March 6, 1853 ("the alder catkins were relaxed and began to lengthen and open, and by the second day to drop their pollen"); March 10, 1853 ("Methinks the first obvious evidence of spring is the pushing out of the swamp willow catkins, then the relaxing of the earlier alder catkins, then the pushing up of skunk-cabbage spathes (and pads at the bottom of water). This is the order I am inclined to, though perhaps any of these may take precedence of all the rest in any particular case. . . . The alder's catkins — the earliest of them — are very plainly expanding, or, rather, the scales are loose and separated, and the whole catkin relaxed.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Alders
Observed a mouse nest where it had been made under the snow, —a nice warm globular nest some five inches in diameter. See February 3, 1856 (“Track some mice to a black willow by riverside, just above spring, against the open swamp; and about three feet high, in apparently an old woodpecker’s hole, was probably the mouse-nest, a double handful, consisting, four ninths, of fine shreds of inner bark, perhaps willow or maple; three ninths, the greenish moss, apparently, of button-bush; two ninths, the gray-slate fur, apparently, of rabbits or mice. Half a dozen hog’s bristles might have been brought by some bird to its nest there. These made a very warm and soft nest.”); February 18, 1857 ("Picked up a mouse-nest in the stubble at Hubbard's mountain sumachs, left bare by the melting snow. It is about five inches wide and three or four high, with one, if not two, small round indistinct entrances on the side, not very obvious till you thrust your finger through them and press aside the fine grass that closes them, . . .A very snug and warm nest, where several might have lain very cosily under the snow in the hardest winter.”); March 22,1855 (“A (probably meadow) mouse nest in the low meadow by stone bridge, where it must have been covered with water a month ago; probably made in fall. Low in the grass, a little dome four inches in diameter, with no sign of entrance, it being very low on one side. Made of fine meadow-grass.”)
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 6, 1856:
On the rock this side the Leaning Hemlocks, is the track of an otter. See December 6, 1856 (“Just this side of Bittern Cliff, I see a very remarkable track of an otter . . .The river was all tracked up with otters, from Bittern Cliff upward. Sometimes one had trailed his tail, apparently edge wise, making a mark like the tail of a deer mouse; sometimes they were moving fast, and there was an interval of five feet between the tracks.”); December 31, 1854 (“ On the edge of A. Wheeler’s cranberry meadow I see the track of an otter made since yesterday morning.”); January 21, 1853 (“I think it was January 20th that I saw that which I think an otter track in path under the Cliffs, — a deep trail in the snow, six or seven inches wide and two or three deep in the middle, as if a log had been drawn along, similar to a muskrat's only much larger, and the legs evidently short and the steps short, sinking three or four inches deeper still, as if it had waddled along.”); February 4, 1855 ("See this afternoon a very distinct otter-track by the Rock, at the junction of the two rivers.”); February 8, 1857 (“The otter must roam about a great deal, for I rarely see fresh tracks in the same neighborhood a second time the same winter, though the old tracks may be apparent all the winter through.”); February 20, 1856 (“See a broad and distinct otter-trail, made last night or yesterday. It came out to the river through the low declivities, making a uniform broad hollow trail there without any mark of its feet. . . .Commonly seven to nine or ten inches wide, and tracks of feet twenty to twenty-four apart; but sometimes there was no track of the feet for twenty-five feet, frequently for six; in the last case swelled in the outline.”); February 22, 1856 (“Just below this bridge begins an otter track, several days old yet very distinct, which I trace half a mile down the river. In the snow less than an inch deep, on the ice, each foot makes a track three inches wide, apparently enlarged in melting. The clear interval, sixteen inches; the length occupied by the four feet, fourteen inches. It looks as if some one had dragged a round timber down the middle of the river a day or two since, which bounced as it went.”)
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 6, 1858:
I have had no river walks before. See January 23, 1858 (" I have not been able to walk up the North Branch this winter, nor along the channel of the South Branch at any time."). Compare December 13, 1859 ("My first true winter walk is perhaps that which I take on the river, or where I cannot go in the summer. It is the walk peculiar to winter, and now first I take it."); December 7, 1856 ("Take my first skate to Fair Haven Pond."); March 4, 1852 ("Now I take that walk along the river highway and the meadow. The river is frozen solidly, and I do not have to look out for openings.")
I see the first hen-hawk, or hawk of any kind, methinks, since the beginning of winter. See February 16, 1854 ("See two large hawks circling over the woods by Walden, hunting, — the first I have seen since December 15th."); March 2, 1855 ("Hear two hawks scream. There is something truly March-like in it, like a prolonged blast or whistling of the wind through a crevice in the sky.”); March 2, 1856 ("I can hardly believe that hen-hawks may be beginning to build their nests now, yet their young were a fortnight old the last of April last year."); March 15, 1860 ("These hawks, as usual, began to be common about the first of March, showing that they were returning from their winter quarters."); March 23, 1859 (“[W]e saw a hen-hawk perch on the topmost plume of one of the tall pines at the head of the meadow. Soon another appeared, probably its mate, but we looked in vain for a nest there. It was a fine sight, their soaring above our heads, presenting a perfect outline and, as they came round, showing their rust-colored tails with a whitish rump, or, as they sailed away from us, that slight teetering or quivering motion of their dark-tipped wings seen edgewise, now on this side, now that, by which they balanced and directed themselves.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The hen-hawk
That light spongy bark about the base of the nesaea appears to be good tinder. See December 18, 1854 ("I am surprised to find in the Andromeda Ponds, especially the westernmost one, north side, an abundance of decodon, or swamp loosestrife"); January 22, 1860 ("At the west or nesaea end of the largest Andromeda Pond, I see that there has been much red ice."); January 24, 1855 ("I observe that the andromeda does not quite fill the pond, but there is an open wet place, with coarse grass, swamp loosestrife, and some button-bush, about a rod wide, surrounding the whole"); February 4, 1858 ("An abundance of nesaea on the east edge of the pond-hole (call it Ledum Pond-hole); and is that a lysimachia mingled with it?");
H.D. Thoreau, Journal, March 6, 1859:
Yellow Birch Swamp. This is also known as Fever-bush Swamp, Rattlesnake Fern Swamp and Botrychium Swamp. See note to July 13, 1857 ("Rattlesnake Fern Swamp'); February 18, 1854 ("Yellow Birch Swamp"); July 10, 1857 ("He found, about a week ago, the Botrychium Virginianum in bloom, about the bass in Fever-bush Swamp.”); September 2, 1857 ("In the botrychium swamp, where the fever-bush is the prevailing underwood "); September 16, 1857 ("Botrychium Swamp"); .May 4, 1859 ("Am struck by the beauty of the yellow birches, now fairly begun to be in bloom, at Yellow Birch, or Botrychium, Swamp.").
Measured a thorn which, at six inches from the ground was two feet three inches in circumference. See September 2, 1857 ("Measured the thorn at Yellow Birch Swamp. At one foot from ground it is a foot and ten inches in circumference.")
The alders, with their reddish catkins. See March 6, 1853 ("the alder catkins were relaxed and began to lengthen and open, and by the second day to drop their pollen"); March 10, 1853 ("Methinks the first obvious evidence of spring is the pushing out of the swamp willow catkins, then the relaxing of the earlier alder catkins, then the pushing up of skunk-cabbage spathes (and pads at the bottom of water). This is the order I am inclined to, though perhaps any of these may take precedence of all the rest in any particular case. . . . The alder's catkins — the earliest of them — are very plainly expanding, or, rather, the scales are loose and separated, and the whole catkin relaxed.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Alders
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 6, 1860:
I hear the well-known note and see a flock of F. hyemalis flitting in a lively manner showing their two white tail-feathers. See February 16, 1854 ("I have not seen F . hyemalis since last fall"); March 7, 1853 ("The only birds I see to-day are the lesser redpolls. I have not seen a fox-colored sparrow or a Fringilla hyemalis"); March 14, 1858 ("I see a Fringilla hyemalis, the first bird, perchance, — unless one hawk, – which is an evidence of spring,. . .They are now getting back earlier than our permanent summer residents. It flits past with a rattling or grating chip, showing its two white tail-feathers") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco (Fringilla hyemalis)
The linarias have been the most numerous birds the past winter. See January 8, 1860 ("When I heard their note, I looked to find them on a birch, and lo, it was a black birch! [Were they not linarias? Vide Jan. 24, 27, 29.]"); February 12, 1860 ("On the east side of the pond, under the steep bank, I see a single lesser redpoll picking the seeds out of the alder catkins, and uttering a faint mewing note from time to time on account of me, only ten feet off. It has a crimson or purple front and breast."); February 20, 1860 ("on the only piece of bare ground I see hereabouts, a large flock of lesser redpolls feeding."); February 28, 1860 ("I suppose they are linarias which I still see flying about") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Lesser Redpoll
The flies buzzed about. See March 17, 1858 ("Even the shade is agreeable to-day. You hear the buzzing of a fly from time to time, and see the black speck zigzag by.")
Sheldrakes and black ducks are the only ones he has seen this year. See February 27, 1860 ("This is the first bird of the spring that I have seen or heard of."); March 5, 1857 ("I scare up six male sheldrakes, with their black heads, in the Assabet,—the first ducks I have seen”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Merganser, Goosander)
I hear the well-known note and see a flock of F. hyemalis flitting in a lively manner showing their two white tail-feathers. See February 16, 1854 ("I have not seen F . hyemalis since last fall"); March 7, 1853 ("The only birds I see to-day are the lesser redpolls. I have not seen a fox-colored sparrow or a Fringilla hyemalis"); March 14, 1858 ("I see a Fringilla hyemalis, the first bird, perchance, — unless one hawk, – which is an evidence of spring,. . .They are now getting back earlier than our permanent summer residents. It flits past with a rattling or grating chip, showing its two white tail-feathers") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco (Fringilla hyemalis)
The linarias have been the most numerous birds the past winter. See January 8, 1860 ("When I heard their note, I looked to find them on a birch, and lo, it was a black birch! [Were they not linarias? Vide Jan. 24, 27, 29.]"); February 12, 1860 ("On the east side of the pond, under the steep bank, I see a single lesser redpoll picking the seeds out of the alder catkins, and uttering a faint mewing note from time to time on account of me, only ten feet off. It has a crimson or purple front and breast."); February 20, 1860 ("on the only piece of bare ground I see hereabouts, a large flock of lesser redpolls feeding."); February 28, 1860 ("I suppose they are linarias which I still see flying about") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Lesser Redpoll
The flies buzzed about. See March 17, 1858 ("Even the shade is agreeable to-day. You hear the buzzing of a fly from time to time, and see the black speck zigzag by.")
Sheldrakes and black ducks are the only ones he has seen this year. See February 27, 1860 ("This is the first bird of the spring that I have seen or heard of."); March 5, 1857 ("I scare up six male sheldrakes, with their black heads, in the Assabet,—the first ducks I have seen”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Merganser, Goosander)
C. hears the nuthatch. See March 5, 1859 ("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 . . . It is the spring note of the nuthatch.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Nuthatch
Slender black birches
with gracefully catkined twigs
drooping on all sides.
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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