Henry Thoreau, March 17, 1857
Such remarkably
pleasant weather, I listen
for the first bluebird.
February 22, 1855
The bluebird may be seen February 24,
as in '50, '57 and '60
or not till March 24,
as in '56.
Henry Thoreau,
March 26, 1860
February 8. There is a peculiarity in the air when the temperature is thus high and the weather fair, at this season, which makes sounds more clear and pervading, as if they trusted themselves abroad further in this genial state of the air. A different sound comes to my ear now from iron rails which are struck, as from the cawing crows, etc. Sound is not abrupt, piercing, or rending, but softly sweet and musical. It will take a yet more genial and milder air before the bluebird's warble can be heard. February 8, 1860
February 9. There is a peculiar softness and luminousness in the air this morning. It is such a warm, moist, or softened, sunlit air as we are wont to hear the first bluebird's warble in . . . Voices of the school-children sound like spring. February 9, 1854
Listening for the
first bluebird in this warm moist
softened sunlit air.
February 17. I hear that some say they saw a bluebird and heard it sing last week!! It was probably a shrike. February 17, 1860
February 18. I listen ever for something springlike in the notes of birds, some peculiar tinkling notes. February 18, 1855
February 18. I thought at one time that I heard a bluebird. . . . I am excited by this wonderful air and go listening for the note of the bluebird or other comer. The very grain of the air seems to have undergone a change and is ready to split into the form of the bluebird's warble. Methinks if it were visible, or I could cast up some fine dust which would betray it, it would take a corresponding shape. The bluebird does not come till the air consents and his wedge will enter easily. The air over these fields is a foundry full of moulds for casting bluebirds' warbles. Any sound uttered now would take that form, not of the harsh, vibrating, rending scream of the jay, but a softer, flowing, curling warble, like a purling stream or the lobes of flowing sand and clay. Here is the soft air and the moist expectant apple trees, but not yet the bluebird. They do not quite attain to song. February 18, 1857
February 22. Remarkably warm and pleasant weather, perfect spring. I even listen for the first bluebird. I see a seething in the air over clean russet fields. The westerly wind is rather raw, but in sheltered places it is deliciously warm. February 22, 1855
February 23. I have seen signs of the spring. February 23, 1857
February 23. [In Worcester] I first hear and then see eight or ten bluebirds going over. Perhaps they have not reached Concord yet. One boy tells me that he saw a bluebird in Concord on Sunday, the 20th. February 23, 1859
February 24. As I cross from the causeway to the hill, thinking of the bluebird, I that instant hear one's note from deep in the softened air. It is already 40°, and by noon is between 50° and 60°. As the day advances I hear more bluebirds and see their azure flakes settling on the fence-posts. Their short, rich, crispy warble curls through the air. Its grain now lies parallel to the curve of the bluebird's warble, like boards of the same lot. . . . I walk without a greatcoat. A chickadee with its winter lisp flits over, and I think it is time to hear its phebe note, and that instant it pipes it forth. February 24, 1857
February 27. Pleasant and warm, the ground half bare. Walking down the Boston road under the hill this side Clark's, it occurs to me that I have just heard a bluebird. I stop and listen to hear it again, but cannot tell whither it comes. Now it seems to come from Pratt's house, where the window is open. I walk that way . . . I get to the elm near Minott's, and I hear one warble distinctly. February 27, 1861
February 28. Air full of bluebirds as yesterday. February 28. 1861
March 1. We go listening for bluebirds, but only hear crows and chickadees. A fine seething air over the fair russet fiends. March 1, 1855
March 2. I go listening, but in vain, for the warble of a bluebird from the old orchard across the river. March 2, 1855
March 2. The bluebird which some woodchopper or inspired walker is said to have seen in that sunny interval between the snow-storms is like a speck of clear blue sky seen near the end of a storm, reminding us of an ethereal region and a heaven which we had forgotten. Princes and magistrates are often styled serene, but what is their turbid serenity to that ethereal serenity which the bluebird embodies? His Most Serene Bird-ship! His soft warble melts in the ear, as the snow is melting in the valleys around. The bluebird comes and with his warble drills the ice and sets free the rivers and ponds and frozen ground. As the sand flows down the slopes a little way, assuming the forms of foliage where the frost comes out of the ground, so this little rill of melody flows a short way down the concave of the sky. March 2, 1859
March 2. Hayden thinks he has seen bluebirds for a fortnight!! Say that he has possibly for a week (?), and that will agree with Wheeler. Ed. Hoar says he heard one February 27th. March 2, 1860
March 4. May not this season of springlike weather between the first decidedly springlike day and the first blue bird, already fourteen days long, be called the striped squirrel spring -- In which we go listening for the blue bird, but hear him not. March 4, 1855
March 7. Hear the first bluebird, — something like pe-a-wor, — and then other slight warblings, as if farther off. Am surprised to see the bird within seven or eight rods on the top of an oak by the orchard's edge under the hill. But he appears silent, while I hear others faintly warbling and twittering far in the orchard. When he flies I hear no more, and I suspect that he has been ventriloquizing; as if he hardly dare open his mouth yet, while there is so much winter left. He revisits the apple trees, and appears to find some worms. Probably not till now is his food to be found abundantly. See some fuzzy gnats in the air. It is an overcast and moist but rather warm afternoon. March 7, 1854
March 7. I hear of two who saw bluebirds this morning, and one says he saw one yesterday.1 This seems to have been the day of their general arrival here, but I have not seen one in Concord yet. It is a good plan to go to some old orchard on the south side of a hill, sit down, and listen, especially in the morning when all is still. You can thus often hear the distant warble of some bluebird lately arrived, which, if you had been walking, would not have been audible to you. As I walk, these first mild spring days, with my coat thrown open, stepping over tinkling rills of melting snow, excited by the sight of the bare ground, especially the reddish subsoil, where it is exposed by a cutting, and by the few green radical leaves, I stand still, shut my eyes, and listen from time to time, in order to hear the note of some bird of passage just arrived. There are few, if any, so coarse and insensible that they are not interested to hear that the bluebird has come. The Irish laborer has learned to distinguish him and report his arrival. It is a part of the news of the season to the lawyer in his office and the mechanic in his shop, as well as to the farmer. One will remember, perchance, to tell you that he saw one a week ago in the next town or county. Citizens just come into the country to live put up a bluebird box, and record in some kind of journal the date of the first arrival observed, — though it may be rather a late one. The farmer can tell you when he saw the first one, if you ask him within a week. March 7, 1859
March 9. I hear and see bluebirds, come with the warm wind. March 9, 1852
March 9. Thermometer at 2 P. M. 15°, sixteen inches of snow on a level in open fields, hard and dry, ice in Flint’s Pond two feet thick, and the aspect of the earth is that of the middle of January in a severe winter. Yet this is about the date that bluebirds arrive commonly. March 9, 1856
March 9. C. says that he heard and saw a bluebird on the 7th, and R. W. E. the same. This was the day on which they were generally observed. I am doubtful about one having been seen on the 20th of February by a boy, as stated February 23d. March 9, 1859
March 10. I see flocks of a dozen bluebirds together. The warble of this bird is innocent and celestial, like its color. March 10, 1852
March 10. 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 10, 1853
March 10. A biting northwest wind compels to cover the ears. It is one of the hardest days of the year to bear. Truly a memorable 10th of March.. . . A bluebird would look as much out of place now as the 10th of January. . . .It is hard to believe the records of previous years. March 10, 1856
March 10. And already, when near the road, I hear the warble of my first Concord bluebird, borne to me from the hill through the still morning air, and, looking up, I see him plainly, though so far away, a dark speck in the top of a walnut.. . . The bluebird on the apple tree, warbling so innocently to inquire if any of its mates are within call, — the angel of the spring! Fair and innocent, yet the offspring of the earth. The color of the sky above and of the subsoil beneath. Suggesting what sweet and innocent melody (terrestrial melody) may have its birthplace between the sky and the ground. March 10, 1859
March 11. Air full of birds, — bluebirds, song sparrows, chickadee (phoebe notes), and blackbirds. Bluebirds' warbling curls in elms. March 11, 1854
March 11. A bluebird day before yesterday in Stow. March 11, 1855
March 12. Elbridge Hayden saw a bluebird yesterday. March 12, 1855
March 12. There are many other insects and worms and caterpillars (and especially spiders, dead) on the ice, there as well as elsewhere . . . I find a great many that appear to have been drowned rather than frozen. May not this have tempted the bluebirds on early this year? March 12, 1859
On the 13th of March, after I had heard the bluebird, song-sparrow, and red-wing, the ice was still nearly a foot thick. Walden,
March 15. 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.
Air full of bluebirds,
mild spring day, my life partakes
of infinity.
March 17. 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 17, 1857
March 17. Hear the first bluebird. A remarkably warm and pleasant day with a south or southwest wind, but still very bad walking, the frost coming out and the snow that was left going off. The air is full of bluebirds. I hear them far and near on all sides of the hill, warbling in the tree-tops, though I do not distinctly see them . . . four species of birds have all come in one day, no doubt to almost all parts of the town. March 17, 1858
March 18. At the end of winter, when the fields are bare and there is nothing to relieve the monotony of the withered vegetation, our life seems reduced to its lowest terms. But let a bluebird come and warble over them, and what a change! The note of the first bluebird in the air answers to the purling rill of melted snow beneath. It is eminently soft and soothing, and, as surely as the thermometer, indicates a higher temperature. It is the accent of the south wind, its vernacular. It is modulated by the south wind.. . . I see this afternoon as many as a dozen bluebirds on the warm side of a wood. March 18, 1858
March 19. 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. March 19, 1855
March 20.The bluebird, too, is in the air, and I detect its blue back for a moment upon a picket. March 20, 1855
March 21. Why are the early birds found most along the water? These song sparrows are now first heard commonly. The blackbirds, too, create some melody. And the bluebirds, how sweet their warble in the soft air, heard over the water! The robin is heard further off, and seen flying rapidly, hurriedly through the orchard. And now the elms suddenly ring with the chill - lill - lill and canary-like notes of the Fringilla hyemalis, which fill the air more than those of any bird yet , — a little strange they sound be cause they do not tarry to breed with us , — a ringing sound. March 21, 1853
March 22. The bluebird faintly warbles, with such ventriloquism that I thought him further off. He requires a warmer air. March 22, 1855
March 24. Spend the forenoon on the river at the white maples. I hear a bluebird’s warble and a song sparrow’s chirp. So much partly for being out the whole forenoon. Bluebirds seen in all parts of the town to-day for first time, as I hear.
Bluebirds for first time
seen in all parts of the town
as I hear to-day.
March 28. The bluebird’s warble comes feeble and frozen to my ear. March 28, 1855
March 31. The fuzzy gnats are in the air, and bluebirds, whose warble is thawed out. I am uncomfortably warm, gradually unbutton both my coats, and wish that I had left the outside one at home. March 31, 1855
April 3. The bluebird carries the sky on his back April 3, 1852
April 5. The bluebird comes to us bright in his vernal dress as a bridegroom . . . Has he not got new feathers then? April 5, 1853
See also
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, February 22
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring
- A Change in the Air
- A Sunny Nook in Spring
- Alder and Willow Catkins Expanding
- Braided Ripples of Melting Snow Shine in the Ruts
- Bright Blue Water
- Buzzing Flies
- Ducks Afar, Sailing on the Meadow
- Frogs, and Turtles Stirring
- Greening Grasses and Sedges
- I begin to think that my wood will last.
- Insects and Worms Come Forth and are Active
- Listening for the Bluebird
- March is famous for its Winds
- Mosses Bright Green
- My Greatcoat on my Arm
- Perla-like Insects Appear
- Red Maple Sap Flows
- Ripples made by Fishes
- The Anxious Peep of the Early Robin
- The Crowing of Cocks, the Cawing of crows
- The Days have grown Sensibly Longer
- The Eaves Begin to Run
- The Gobbling of Turkeys
- The Grackle Arrives
- The Hawks of March
- The New Warmth of the Sun
- The Note of the Dark-eyed Junco Going Northward
- The Red-Wing Arrives
- The Skunk Cabbage Blooms
- The Softened Air of these Warm February Days
- The Song Sparrow Sings
- The Spring Note of the Chickadee
- The Spring Note of the Nuthatch
- The Striped Squirrel Comes Out
- The Water Bug (Gyrinus)
- Walking without Gloves
- Woodpeckers Tapping
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,
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 © 2009-2023
https://tinyurl.com/HDTbluebird
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