Showing posts with label blue heron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blue heron. Show all posts

Monday, August 16, 2021

A Book of the Seasons: August 16 (locust days, botanizing and birding mid-August the note of the wood pewee at sunset)

 



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



Two men in a boat.
  Upside down reflection, their
 shadow on water.
August 16, 1854

Am surprised to find 
cassia so obvious 
and so abundant. 

And the spearmint
so intoxicates me that
I am bewildered.

By the discovery of one new plant 
all bounds seem to be infinitely removed. 

A blue heron with 
its great undulating wings
 and leisurely flight.
 August 16, 1858


August 16, 2020

These are locust days. August 16, 1852

I hear them on the elms in the street, but cannot tell where they are. August 16, 1852

Loud is their song, drowning many others, but men appear not to distinguish it, though it pervades their ears as the dust their eyes. August 16, 1852

Hear it raining again early when I awake, as it did yesterday, still and steady, as if the season were troubled with a diabetes. August 16, 1858

River about ten and a half inches above summer level. August 16, 1860

Raise the river two feet above summer level and let it be running off, and you can hardly swim against it. August 16, 1856

It has fallen about fifteen inches from the height. August 16, 1856

The river is exceedingly fair this afternoon, and there are few handsomer reaches than that by the leaning oak, the deep place, where the willows make a perfect shore. August 16, 1852

By the leaning oak,
the deep place where the willows
make a perfect shore.

According to [Minott], the Holt is at the “diving ash,” where is some of the deepest water in the river. August 16, 1858
)


A three-ribbed goldenrod on railroad causeway, two to three feet high, abundantly out before Solidago nemoralis. August 16, 1858

Desmodium paniculatum in the wood-path northeast of Flint's Pond.August 16, 1853

Its flowers turn blue-green in drying. August 16, 1853

Apparently the Canada plum began to be ripe about the 10th. August 16, 1860

 Hyriophyllam ainbiguum, apparently var. larnosain, except that it is not nearly lindar-leafed but pectinate, well out how long? August 16, 1857

Thalictrum Comuti is now generally done. August 16, 1858

Galeopsis tetrahit, common hemp-nettle, in roadside by Keyes's. How long? Flower like hedge-nettle. August 16, 1852

Apios tuberosa, ground-nut, a day or two. August 16, 1852

I must look for the rudbeckia which Bradford says he found yesterday behind Joe Clark's. August 16, 1852

Agrinzonia Eupatoria, small-flowered (yellow) plant with hispid fruit, two or three feet high, Turnpike, at Tuttle's peat meadow.   August 16, 1851

The Polygonum orientale, probably some days, by Turnpike Bridge, a very rich rose-color large flowers, distinguished by its salver-shaped upper sheaths. August 16, 1853

It is a color as rich, I think, as that of the cardinal-flower. August 16, 1853

The hardhack commonly grows in low meadow-pastures which are uneven with grassy clods or hummocks, such as the almshouse pasture by Cardinal Ditch. August 16, 1858

I am surprised to find that where of late years there have been so many cardinal-flowers, there are now very few. August 16, 1858

So much does a plant fluctuate from season to season. August 16, 1858

Here I found nearly white ones once. August 16, 1858

White morning-glory up the Assabet. August 16, 1856

Almost all flowers and animals may be found white. August 16, 1858

Channing tells me that he saw a white bobolink in a large flock of them to-day. August 16, 1858

As in a large number of cardinal-flowers you may find a white one, so in a large flock of bobolinks, also, it seems, you may find a white one. August 16, 1858 

Hemp (Cannabis sativa), said by Gray to have been introduced; not named by Bigelow. Is it not a native? August 16, 1851

[Minott] used to love to hear the goldfinches sing on the hemp which grew near his gate. August 16, 1858 

I hear these birds on my way thither, between two and three o’clock:
  • goldfinches twitter over;
  • the song sparrow sings several times;
  •  hear a low warble from bluebirds, with apparently their young,
  • the link of many bobolinks (and see large flocks on the fences and weeds; they are largish-looking birds with yellow throats);
  • a large flock of red-wings goes tchucking over;
  • a lark twitters;
  • crows caw;
  • a robin peeps;
  • kingbirds twitter, as ever. August 16, 1858
 Started a woodcock in the woods. August 16, 1853

Also saw a large telltale, I think yellow-shanks, whose note I at first mistook for a jay's, giving the alarm to some partridges. August 16, 1853

In my boating of late I have several times scared up a couple of summer ducks of this year, bred in our meadows. August 16, 1858

They allowed me to come quite near, and helped to people the-river. August 16, 1858

I have not seen them for some days. August 16, 1858

August 16, 2017

Goodwin shot them, and Mrs., who never sailed on the river, ate them. August 16, 1858

Of course, she knows not what she did. August 16, 1858

What if I should eat her canary? Thus we share each other’s sins as well as burdens.

The lady who watches admiringly the matador shares his deed. August 16, 1858

They belonged to me, as much as to any one, when they were alive, but it was considered of more importance that Mrs. should taste the flavor of them dead than that I should enjoy the beauty of them alive. August 16, 1858


Talked with Minott, who sits in his wood-shed, having, as I notice, several seats there for visitors, —one a block on the sawhorse, another a patchwork mat on a wheelbarrow, etc., etc. August 16, 1858

His half-grown chickens, which roost overhead, perch on his shoulder or knee. August 16, 1858

He tells me some of his hunting stories again. August 16, 1858

He always lays a good deal of stress on the kind of gun he used, as if he had bought a new one every year, when probably he never had more than two or three in his life. August 16, 1858

In this case it was a “half-stocked” one, a little “cocking-piece,” and whenever he finished his game he used the word “gavel,” I think in this way, “gave him gavel,” i. e. made him bite the dust, or settled him. August 16, 1858

Speaking of foxes, he said: “As soon as the nights get to be cool, if you step outdoors at nine or ten o’clock when all is still, you’ll hear them bark out on the flat behind the houses, half a mile off, or sometimes whistle through their noses. August 16, 1858. 
 

I find the dog's-bane (Apocynum androsoemifolium) bark not the nearly so strong as that of the A. cannabinum. August 16, 1856

Amaranthus hypochondriacus, how long? August 16, 1856

Myriophyllum ambiguum, apparently var. limosum, except that it is not nearly linear-leafed but pectinate, well out how long? August 16, 1857

Diplopappus linariifolius, apparently several days. August 16, 1856

Ambrosia pollen now begins to yellow my clothes. August 16, 1856

Chenopodium hybridum, a tall rank weed, five feet at least, dark-green, with a heavy (poisonous?) odor compared to that of stramonium; great maple(?)- shaped leaves. August 16, 1856

How deadly this peculiar heavy odor! August 16, 1856

Cynoglossum officinale, a long time, mostly gone to seed, at Bull's Path and north roadside below Leppleman's. August 16, 1856

Its great radical leaves made me think of smooth mullein. August 16, 1856

The flower has a very peculiar, rather sickening odor; Sophia thought like a warm apple pie just from the oven (I did not perceive this). August 16, 1856

A pretty flower, however. August 16, 1856

I thoughtlessly put a handful of the nutlets into my pocket with my handkerchief. August 16, 1856

But it took me a long time to pick them out my handkerchief when I got home, and I pulled out many threads in the process. August 16, 1856

At roadside opposite Leighton's, just this side his barn, Monarda fistulosa, wild bergamot, nearly done, with terminal whorls and fragrance mixed of balm and summer savory. August 16, 1856

The petioles are not ciliated like those on Strawberry Hill road. August 16, 1856

Am surprised to find the cassia so obvious and abundant. August 16, 1856

Can see it yellowing the field twenty-five rods off, from top of hill. August 16, 1856

It is perhaps the prevailing shrub over several acres of moist rocky meadow pasture on the brook; grows in bunches, three to five feet high (from the ground this year), in the neighborhood of alders, hardhack, elecampane, etc. August 16, 1856

The lower flowers are turning white and going to seed, — pods already three inches long, — a few upper not yet opened. August 16, 1856

It resounds with the hum of bumblebees. August 16, 1856

It is branched above, some of the half-naked (of leaves) racemes twenty inches long by five or six wide. August 16, 1856

Leaves alternate, of six or eight pairs of leafets and often an odd one at base, locust-like. August 16, 1856

Looked as if they had shut up in the night. August 16, 1856

Mrs. Pratt says they do. August 16, 1856

E. Hoar says she has known it here since she was a child. August 16, 1856

Some elecampane with the cassia is six feet high, and blades of lower leaves twenty inches by seven or nine. August 16, 1856

The cynoglossum by roadside opposite, and, by side of tan-yard, the apparently true Mentha viridis, or spearmint, growing very rankly in a dense bed, some four feet high, spikes rather dense, one to one and a half inches long, stem often reddish, leaves nearly sessile. Say August 1st at least. August 16, 1856

What a variety of old garden herbs — mints, etc. — are naturalized along an old settled road, like this to Boston which the British travelled! And then there is the site, apparently, of an old garden by the tan-yard, where the spearmint grows so rankly. August 16, 1856

I am intoxicated with the fragrance. August 16, 1856

All the roadside is the site of an old garden where fragrant herbs have become naturalized, — hounds-tongue, bergamot, spearmint, elecampane, etc. August 16, 1856

I see even the tiger lily, with its bulbs, growing by the roadside far from houses (near Leighton's graveyard). August 16, 1856

Though I find only one new plant (the cassia), yet old acquaintances grow so rankly, and the spearmint intoxicates me so, that I am bewildered, as it were by a variety of new things. August 16, 1856

An infinite novelty. August 16, 1856

I think I have found many new plants, and am surprised when I can reckon but one. August 16, 1856

A little distance from my ordinary walk and a little variety in the growth or luxuriance will produce this illusion. August 16, 1856

By the discovery of one new plant all bounds seem to be infinitely removed. August 16, 1856

I find more and other plants than I counted on. August 16, 1856

Amphicarpaea some time; pods seven eighths of an inch long. August 16, 1856

Mimvlus ringens four feet high, and chelone six feet high! August 16, 1856

Am frequently surprised to find how imperfectly water-plants are known. August 16, 1856

Even good shore botanists are out of their element on the water. August 16, 1856

I would suggest to young botanists to get not only a botany-box but a boat, and know the water-plants not so much from the shore as from the water side. August 16, 1856

Know the water-plants 
not so much from the shore as 
from the water side. 
August 16, 1856

Minott says that the meadow-grass will be good for nothing after the late overflow, when it goes down.

The water has steamed the grass. August 16, 1856

I see the rue all turned yellow by it prematurely. August 16, 1856


Down river in boat with George Bradford. August 16, 1852. 

With Russell to Fair Haven by boat. August 16, 1854

At the steam mill sand-bank is the distinct shadow of our shadows, — first on the water, then the double one on the bank bottom to bottom, one being upside down, — three in all, — one on water, two on land or bushes. August 16, 1854

At steam-mill sand-bank
the shadow of our shadows –
one is upside down.


Bathing at Merrick's old place, am surprised to find how swift the current. August 16, 1856

Goodwin has come again to fish, with three poles, hoping to catch some more of those large eels. August 16, 1858

A blue heron, with its great undulating wings, prominent cutwater, and leisurely flight, goes over southwest, cutting off the bend of the river west of our house. August 16, 1858. 

Goodwin says he saw one two or three days ago, and also that he saw some black ducks. August 16, 1858

A muskrat is swimming up the stream, betrayed by two long diverging ripples, or ripple-lines, two or three rods long each, and inclosing about seventy-five degrees, methinks. August 16, 1858.  

The rat generally dives just before reaching the shore and is not seen again, probably entering some burrow in the bank. August 16, 1858

Am surprised to see that the snapping turtle which I found floating dead June 16th, and placed to rot in the cleft of a rock, has been all cleaned, so that there is no smell of carrion. August 16, 1858

The scales have nearly all fallen off, and the sternum fallen apart, and the bony frame of the back is loose and dropping to pieces, as if it were many years old. August 16, 1858

It is a wonderful piece of dovetailing, the ends of the ribs (which are narrow and rib-like) set into sockets in the middle of the marginal bones, whose joints are in each case between the ribs. August 16, 1858

There are many large fish-bones within the shell. August 16, 1858

Was it killed by the fish it swallowed? The bones not being dispersed, I suppose it was cleaned by insects. August 16, 1858

Very bad weather of late for pressing plants. August 16, 1856

My plants in press are in a sad condition; mildew has invaded them during the late damp weather, even those that were nearly dry. August 16, 1856

Give me the dry heat of July. August 16, 1856

Even growing leaves out of doors are spotted with fungi now, much more than mine in press. August 16, 1856

Yesterday also in the Marlborough woods, perceived everywhere that offensive mustiness of decaying fungi. August 16, 1853

How earthy old people become, — mouldy as the grave! Their wisdom smacks of the earth.

There is no foretaste of immortality in it. August 16, 1853

They remind me of earthworms and mole crickets. August 16, 1853

I notice that when a frog, a Rana halecina, jumps, it drops water at the same instant, as a turtle often when touched as she is preparing to lay. August 16, 1858

I see many frogs jump from the side of the railroad causeway toward the ditch at its base, and each drops some water. August 16, 1858

They apparently have this supply of water with them in warm and dry weather, at least when they leave the water, and, returning to it, leave it behind as of no further use. August 16, 1858

At sunset paddled to Hill. August 16, 1858

At sunset, the glow being confined to the north, it tinges the rails on the causeway lake-color, but behind they are a dead dark blue. August 16, 1852

At sunset I hear a low short warble from a golden robin, and the notes of the wood pewee. August 16, 1858.

August 16, 2014

 A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau:


*****

April 29, 1854 ("Off the Cliffs, I meet a blue heron flying slowly down stream. He flaps slowly and heavily, his long, level, straight and sharp bill projecting forward, then his keel-like neck doubled up, and finally his legs thrust out straight behind.");
May 31, 1853 ("The fact that a rare and beautiful flower which we never saw. . . may be found in our immediate neighborhood, is very suggestive. . . The boundaries of the actual are no more fixed and rigid than the elasticity of our imaginations")
July 11, 1857 ("Apocynum cannabinum, with its small white flowers and narrow sepals")
July 28, 1859 ("The sweet and plaintive note of the pewee is now prominent, since most other birds are more hushed. I hear young families of them answering each other from a considerable distance, especially about the river.");
July 29, 1859 ("The water milfoil (the ambiguum var. nutans), otherwise not seen, shows itself. This is observed only at lowest water.")
July 30, 1856 (“Rudbeckia laciniata, perhaps a week.”)
August 1, 1857 ("Small Apocynum cannabinum on the rocks .")
August 5, 1856 ("At the Assabet stone bridge, apparently freshly in flower, . . . apparently the Apocynum cannabinum var. hypericifolium (?).”)
August 6, 1858 (“The note of the wood pewee is now more prominent, while birds generally are silent.
 August 8, 1852 ("No man ever makes a discovery, even an observation of the least importance, but he is advertised of the fact by a joy that surprises him")
August 9, 1856 ("Again I am surprised to see the Apocynum cannabinum close to the rock at the Island.")
August 9, 1856 ("The notes of the wood pewee and warbling vireo are more prominent of late, and of the goldfinch twittering over.”)
August 10, 1854 ("The tinkling notes of goldfinches and bobolinks which we hear nowadays are of one character and peculiar to the season. ")
August 11, 1856 ("Mr. Bradford . . .gives me a sprig of Cassia Marilandica,wild senna, found by Minot Pratt just below Leighton's by the road side.")
August12, 1858 (". It is surprising how young birds, especially sparrows of all kinds, abound now, and bobolinks and wood pewees and kingbirds")
August 12, 1858 ("The note of the wood pewee is a prominent and common one now. You see old and young together.")
August 12, 1853 ("See the blue herons opposite Fair Haven Hill, as if they had bred here")
August 12, 1854 (" I see goldfinches nowadays on the lanceolate thistles, apparently after the seeds")
 August 13, 1854 (" I see where the pasture thistles have apparently been picked to pieces (for their seeds? by the goldfinch?), and the seedless down strews the ground"")
August 14, 1858 (" The Canada thistle down is now begun to fly, and I see the goldfinch upon it. ")
 August 14, 1858 ("The goldfinch, a prevailing note, with variations into a fine song. . . . The more characteristic notes would appear to be the wood pewee’s and the goldfinch’s, ")
August 14, 1858 ("The wood pewee, with its young, peculiarly common and prominent. . . These might be called the pewee-days.")
August 14,1859 ("If you would know the depth of the water on these few shoalest places of Musketaquid, ask the blue heron that wades and fishes there")
August 14, 1853 ("there are countless great fungi of various forms and colors, the produce of the warm rains and muggy weather . . . and for most of my walk the air is tainted with a musty, carrion like odor, in some places very offensive")
August 14, 1853 (" I hear no wood thrushes for a week. The pea-wai still, and sometimes the golden robin.") 
August 14,1859("A blue heron standing in very shallow water amid the weeds of the bar and pluming itself.")
August 15, 1854 ("On the top of the Hill I see the goldfinch eating the seeds of the Canada thistle. I rarely approach a bed of them or other thistles nowadays but I hear the cool twitter of the goldfinch about it")
August 15, 1854 ("I rarely approach a bed . . . thistles nowadays but I hear the cool twitter of the goldfinch about it.")
August 15, 1852 ("See a blue heron on the meadow.")
August 15, 1852 ("That clear ring like an alder locust (is it a cricket ?) for some time past is a sound which belongs to the season.")
August 15, 1852 ("I see a dense, compact flock of bobolinks going off in the air over a field. They cover the rails and alders, and go rustling off with a brassy, tinkling note as I approach, revealing their yellow breasts and bellies.")
August 15, 1852 ("I see large flocks of bobolinks on the Union Turnpike
August 15, 1854 (" I see a dense, compact flock of bobolinks going off in the air over a field. They cover the rails and alders, and go rustling off with a brassy, tinkling note as I approach, revealing their yellow breasts and bellies. This is an autumnal sight, that small flock of grown birds in the afternoon sky.")
August 15, 1860 ("See a blue heron.")

August 17, 1851("I see a goldfinch go twittering through the still, louring day, and am reminded of the peeping flocks which will soon herald the thoughtful season.")
August 18, 1852 ("Rudbeckia laciniata, sunflower-like tall cone-flower, behind Joe Clark's.")
August 18, 1854 ("The bobolinks alight on the wool-grass.")
August 18, 1858 (“Almost every bush along this brook is now alive with these birds.”)
August 18, 1856 ("I hear the steady (not intermittent) shrilling of apparently the alder cricket, clear, loud, and autumnal, a season sound. Hear it, but see it not. It reminds me of past autumns and the lapse of time, suggests a pleasing, thoughtful melancholy, like the sound of the flail. Such preparation, such an outfit has our life, and so little brought to pass! ")
August 18, 1860 ("The note of the wood pewee sounds prominent of late.")
August 18, 1858 (“One appeared to answer the other, and sometimes they both sung together, — even as if the old were teaching her young. It was not the usual spring note of this bird, but a simple, clear pe-e-eet, rising steadily with one impulse to the end.”)
August 18, 1854 ("The bobolinks alight on the wool-grass. Do they eat its seeds? ")
August 18, 1858 (" Miss Caroline Pratt saw the white bobolink yesterday where Channng saw it the day before, in the midst of a large flock. I go by the place this afternoon and see very large flocks of them, certainly several hundreds in all, and one has a little white on his back, but I do not see the white one. ")
 August 19, 1853 ("Flocks of bobolinks go tinkling along about the low willows, and swallows twitter, and a kingbird hovers almost stationary in the air, a foot above the water. "")
August 19, 1858 ("The blue heron has within a week reappeared in our meadows. ")
August 20, 1854 ("Saw a wood pewee . . .It often utters a continuous pe-e-e.")
August 20, 1854 ("5.15 a. m. — To Hill. I hear a gold robin, also faint song of common robin. Wood pewee (fresh); red-wing blackbird with fragmentary trill; bobolinks (the males apparently darker and by themselves); kingbirds; nuthatch heard; yellow-throated vireo, heard and saw, on hickories (have I lately mistaken this for red-eye ?); goldfinch; slate- colored hawk (with white rump and black wing-tips)")
August 22, 1853 ("Surprised to hear a very faint bobolink in the air; the link, link, once or twice later.")
August 21, 1853 ("Methinks I have not heard a robin sing morning or evening of late, but the peawai still ")
August 22, 1858 ("See one or two blue herons every day now")
August 22, 1853 ("Hear a peawai whose note is more like singing — as if it were still incubating — than any other.")
August 25, 1852 ("I hear no birds sing these days, only . . . the mew of a catbird, the link link of a bobolink, or the twitter of a goldfinch, all faint and rare.")
August 24, 1858 ("Edward Hoar brings Cassia Chamoecrista from Greenport, L. I., which must have been out a good while. ")
August 26, 1857 ("B[adford]. has found Cassia Chamoacrista by the side of the back road between Lincoln and Waltham, about two miles this side of Waltham.")
August 31, 1852 ("I observe, on the willows on the east shore, the shadow of my boat and self and oars, upside down...”)
September 10, 1854 ("Last year, for the last three weeks of August, the woods were filled with the strong musty scent of decaying fungi, but this year I have seen very few fungi and have not noticed that odor at all .")
September 12 1852 ("the Polygonum orientale, prince's-feather, in E. Hosmer's grounds.")
September 14, 1854 ("A flock of thirteen tell tales, great yellow-legs, start up with their shrill whistle from the midst of the great Sudbury meadow, and away they sail in a flock.").
October 18, 1853 ("Returning late, we see a double shadow of ourselves and boat, one, the true, quite black, the other directly above it and very faint, on the willows and high bank.")
November 1, 1854 ("Just before a clear sundown, close to the shore on the east side I see a second fainter shadow of the boat, sail, myself, and paddle, etc., directly above and upon the first on the bank . . . I discovered that it was the reflected sun which cast a higher shadow like the true one. As I moved to the west side, the upper shadow rose, grew larger and less perceptible; and at last when I was so near the west shore that I could not see the reflected sun, it disappeared; but then there appeared one upside down in its place!")
December 11, 1855 ("It is only necessary to behold thus the least fact or phenomenon, however familiar, from a point a hair’s breadth aside from our habitual path or routine, to be overcome, enchanted by its beauty and significance.”)
January 23, 1858 ("It is a peculiar sound, quite unlike any other woodland sound that I know . . . What a smothered, ragged, feeble, and unmusical sound is the bark of the fox!.")
                                                                                                               

 

August 16, 2021


If you make the least correct 
observation of nature this year,
 you will have occasion to repeat it
 with illustrations the next, 
and the season and life itself is prolonged.

 August 15.<<<<<      August 16   >>>>>  August 17 

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, August 16
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 ©  2009-2022


tinyurl.com/HDT16AUGUST 





Friday, April 16, 2021

The contents of creatures' stomachs



April 16

Horace Mann says that he killed a bullfrog in Walden Pond which had swallowed and contained a common striped snake which measured one foot and eight inches in length.

Says he saw two blue herons (?) go over a fortnight ago.

He brought me some days ago the contents of a stake driver's stomach or crop. It is apparently a perch (?), some seven inches long originally, with three or four pebble-shaped, compact masses of the fur of some very small quadruped, as a meadow mouse, some one fourth inch thick by three fourths in diameter, also several wing-cases of black beetles such as I see on the meadow flood.

He brought me also some time ago the contents of a black duck's crop (killed at Goose Pond), -- green gobbets of fine grass (?) or weeds (?), apparently from the bottom of the pond (just then begun to spring up), but I have not yet examined these out of the bottle.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 16, 1861

Horace Mann says that he killed a bullfrog which had swallowed and contained a common striped snake. See May 19, 1856 ("Saw a small striped snake in the act of swallowing a Rana palustris, within three feet of the water. The snake, being frightened, released his hold, and the frog hopped off to the water. ")

Says he saw two blue herons go over.  See April 14, 1859 ("You have not seen our weedy river, you do not know the significance of its weedy bars, until you have seen the blue heron wading and pluming itself on it"); April 15, 1855 ("We have a fine view of a blue heron, standing erect and open to view on a meadow island, by the great swamp south of the bridge."); April 29, 1854 ("I meet a blue heron flying slowly down stream. He flaps slowly and heavily, his long, level, straight and sharp bill projecting forward, then his keel-like neck doubled up, and finally his legs thrust out straight behind.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Blue Heron and April 16, 1855 ("At sunset, the mountains, after this our warmest day as yet, have a peculiar soft mantle of blue haze, pale blue as a blue heron.")

Thursday, May 14, 2020

The rich colors and the rich and varied notes of the blackbirds surpass them all.




Saturday. 9 A. M.--To Wayland by boat. 

E. Wood has added a pair of ugly wings to his house, bare of trees and painted white, particularly conspicuous from the river. You might speak of the alar extent of this house, monopolizing so much of our horizon; but alas ! it is not formed for flight, after all. 

The water is considerably rough to-day, and higher than usual at this season. 

The black willows have started, but make no show of green. 

The button-bushes are yet apparently dead. 

The green buds of yellow lilies are bobbing up and down, already showing more or less yellow; this the most forward sign in the water. The great scalloped platters of their leaves have begun to show themselves on the surface, and the red round leaves of the white lily, now red above as well as below. 

A myriad of polygonums, potamogetons, and pontederias are pushing up from the bottom, but have not yet reached the surface. 

Dandelions and houstonias, etc., spot the meadows with yellow and white. 

The still dead-looking willows and button-bushes are alive with red-wings, now perched on a yielding twig, now pursuing a female swiftly over the meadow, now darting across the stream. No two have epaulets equally brilliant. Some are small and almost white, and others a brilliant vermilion. They are handsomer than the golden robin, methinks. 

The yellowbird, kingbird, and pewee, beside many swallows, are also seen. But the rich colors and the rich and varied notes of the blackbirds surpass them all. 

Passing Conantum under sail at 10 o’clock, the cows in this pasture are already chewing the cud in the thin shade of the apple trees, a picture of peace, already enjoying the luxury of their green pastures. 

I was not prepared to find the season so far advanced. 

The breeze which comes over the water, sensibly cooled or freshened by it, is already grateful. 

Suddenly there start up from the riverside at the entrance of Fair Haven Pond, scared by our sail, two great blue herons, — slate color rather, — slowly flapping and undulating, their projecting breast-bones very visible, — or is it possibly their necks bent back? — their legs stuck out straight behind. Getting higher by their flight, they straight come back to reconnoitre us. Land at Lee’s Cliff, where the herons have preceded us and are perched on the oaks, conspicuous from afar, and again we have a fair view of their flight. 

We find here, unexpectedly, the warmth of June. The hot, dry scent, or say warm and balmy, from ground amid the pitch pines carpeted with red needles, where a wiry green grass is springing up, reminds us of June and of wild pinks. 

Under the south side of the Cliff, vegetation seems a fortnight earlier than elsewhere. Not only the beautiful little veronicas (serpyllifolia) are abundantly out, and cowslips past their prime, columbines past prime, and saxifrage gone to seed, some of it, and dandelions, and the sod sparkling with the pure, brilliant, spotless yellow of cinquefoil, also violets and strawberries, but the glossy or varnished yellow of buttercups (bulbosus, also abundant, some days out) spots the hillside. 

The south side of these rocks is like a hothouse where the gardener has removed his glass. The air, scented with sweet briar, may almost make you faint in imagination. The nearer the base of the rock, the more forward each plant. 

The trees are equally forward, red and black; leaves an inch and a half long and shoots of three inches. The prospect from these rocks is early-June-like. You notice the tender light green of the birches, both white and paper, and the brown-red tops of the maples where their keys are. 

Close under the lee of the button-bushes which skirt the pond, as I look south, there is a narrow smooth strip of water, silvery and contrasting with the darker rippled body of the pond. Its edge, or the separation between this, which I will call the polished silvery border of the pond, and the dark and ruffled body, is not a straight line or film, but an ever-varying, irregularly and finely serrated or fringed border, ever changing as the breeze falls over the bushes at an angle more or less steep, so that this moment it is a rod wide, the next not half so much. Every feature is thus fluent in the landscape. 

Again we embark, now having furled our sail and taken to our oars. The air is clear and fine-grained, and as we glide by the hills I can look into the very roots of the grass amid the springing pines in their deepest valleys. The wind rises, but still it is not a cold wind. There is nothing but slate-colored water and a few red pads appearing at Lily Bay. 

After leaving Rice’s harbor the wind is with us again. What a fine tender yellow green from the meadow-grass just pushed up, where the sun strikes it at the right angle! How it contrasts with the dark bluish-green of that rye, already beginning to wave, which covers that little rounded hill by Pantry Brook! Grain waves earlier than grass. 

How flat the top of the muskrat’s head as he swims, and his back, even with it, and then when he dives he ludicrously shows his tail. They look gray and brown, rabbit, now. 

At Forget-me not Spring the chrysosplenium beds are very large, rich and deep, almost out of bloom. I find none of the early blackberry in bloom. It is mostly destroyed. Already we pluck and eat the sweet flag and detect small critchicrotches. The handsome comandra leaves also are prominent. 

In the woods which skirt the river near Deacon Farrar’s swamp, the Populus grandidentata, just expanding its downy leaves, makes silvery patches in the sun. It is abundant and truly silvery. 

The paper birch woods at Fair Haven present this aspect : there is the somewhat dense light green of aspens (tremuliformis) and paper birches in the foreground next the water, both of one tint, and occasionally a red maple with brownish-red top, with — equally advanced, aye, more fully expanded, intermixed or a little higher up-very tall and slender amelanchiers (Botryapium), some twenty-five feet high, on which no signs of fruit, though I have seen them on some; some silvery grandidentata, and red and black oaks (some yellowish, some reddish, green), and still reddish-white oaks, just starting; and green pines for contrast, showing the silvery under sides of their leaves or the edges of their dark stages (contrasting with their shaded under sides).
These are the colors of the forest-top, — the rug, looking down on it. 

Tufts of coarse grass  are in full bloom along the riverside, — little islets big enough to support a fisherman. 

Again we scare up the herons, who, methinks, will build hereabouts. They were standing by the water side. And again they alight farther below, and we see their light-colored heads erect, and their bodies at various angles as they stoop to drink. And again they flap away with their great slate-blue wings, necks curled up (?) and legs straight out behind, and, having attained a great elevation, they circle back over our heads, now seemingly black as crows against the sky,  crows with long wings, they might be taken for, — but higher and higher they mount by stages in the sky, till heads and tails are lost and they are mere black wavelets amid the blue, one always following close behind the other. They are evidently mated. It would be worth the while if we could see them oftener in our sky. 

Some apple trees are fairly out. 

What is that small slate-colored hawk with black tips to wings?

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 14, 1853


Red-wings, now perched on a yielding twig, now pursuing a female swiftly over the meadow, now darting across the stream. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Red-wing in  Early Spring

The Populus grandidentata, just expanding its downy leaves, makes silvery patches in the sun. See
May 10, 1853 ("The P. grandidentata which have flowered show no leaves yet; only very young ones, small downy leaves now"); May 13, 1852 (" The female Populus grandidentata, whose long catkins are now growing old, is now leafing out. The flowerless (male ?) ones show half-unfolded silvery leaves."); May 15, 1854 ("The large P. grandidentata by river not leafing yet.");  May 17, 1858 ("The Populus grandidentata now shows large, silvery, downy, but still folded, leafets.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Big-toothed Aspen (Populus grandidentata)

The yellowbird, kingbird, and pewee, beside many swallows, are also seen. See May 10, 1853 (" New days, then, have come, ushered in by the warbling vireo, yellowbird, Maryland yellow-throat, and small pewee, and now made perfect by the twittering of the kingbird and the whistle of the oriole amid the elms, which are but just beginning to leaf out, ")

It would be worth the while if we could see them oftener in our sky.  See April 22, 1852 ("It would affect our thoughts, deepen and perchance darken our reflections, if such huge birds flew in numbers in our sky. Have the effect of magnetic passes.")

What is that small slate-colored hawk with black tips to wings? See April 24, 1853 ("Marsh (?) hawk, with black tips of wings."); March 27, 1855 ("Marsh hawk, male. Slate-colored; beating the bush; black tips to wings and white rump."); 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") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Marsh Hawk (Northern Harrier)

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

There is quite a drought.

August 21

Sunday. P. M. — Walk over the Great Meadows and observe how dry they are. 

There is quite a drought, and I can walk almost anywhere over these meadows without wetting my feet. It is much drier than it was three weeks ago there. It is like the summer of '54. 

Almost all the grass has been cut and carried off. It is quite dry crossing the neck of the Holt. 

In many holes in the meadow, made by the ice, the water having dried up, I see many small fishes — pouts and pickerel and bream — left dead and dying. In one place there were fifty or one hundred pouts from four to five inches long with a few breams, all dead and dry. It is remarkable that these fishes have not all been devoured by birds or quadrupeds. 

The blue herons must find it easy to get their living now. Are they not more common on our river such years as this?

In holes where the water has just evaporated, leaving the mud moist, I see a hundred little holes near together, with occasionally an indistinct track of a bird between. Measuring these holes, I find them to be some two inches deep, or about the length of a snipe's bill, and doubtless they were made by them. I start one snipe. 

People now (at this low stage of water) dig mud for their compost-heaps, deepen wells, build bank walls, perchance, along the river, and in some places make bathing-places by raking away the weeds. Many are ditching.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 21, 1859

There is quite a drought, and I can walk almost anywhere over these meadows without wetting my feet. It is much drier than it was three weeks ago there. It is like the summer of '54.. See August 19, 1854 ("There is now a remarkable drought, some of whose phenomena I have referred to during several weeks past.”); August 22, 1854 ("I go again to the Great Meadows, to improve this remarkably dry season and walk where in ordinary times I cannot go.")

The blue herons must find it easy to get their living now. See August 22, 1854 ("Thus the drought serves the herons, etc., confining their prey within narrower limits, and doubtless they are well acquainted with suitable retired pools far in the marshes to go a-fishing in.")

In holes where the water has just evaporated, leaving the mud moist, I see a hundred little holes near together, with occasionally an indistinct track of a bird between. . . .I start one snipe.  See August 3, 1859 (". To-day I can walk dry over the greater part of the meadows, . . . many think it has not been so dry for ten years! Goodwin is there after snipes. I scare up one in the wettest part.")

People now (at this low stage of water) dig mud for their compost-heaps. See August 28, 1854 ("The farmers improve this dry spell to cut ditches and dig mud in the meadows and pond-holes. I see their black heaps in many places. ")

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 © 2009-2025

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

You have not seen our weedy river, you do not know the significance of its weedy bars, until you have seen the blue heron wading and pluming itself on it.

August  14. 

P. M. — To Barrett's Bar. 

The zizania now makes quite a show along the river, overtopping the withered heads of the early canary grass. 

When I reached the upper end of this weedy bar, at about 3 p. m., this warm day, I noticed some light-colored object in mid-river, near the other end of the bar. At first I thought of some large stake or board standing amid the weeds there, then of a fisherman in a brown holland sack, referring him to the shore beyond. Supposing it the last, I floated nearer and nearer till I saw plainly enough the motions of the person, whoever it was, and that it was no stake.

Looking through my glass thirty or forty rods off, I thought certainly that I saw C, who had just bathed, making signals to me with his towel, for I referred the object to the shore twenty rods further. I saw his motions as he wiped himself, — the movements of his elbows and his towel. Then I saw that the person was nearer and therefore smaller, that it stood on the sand-bar in mid stream in shallow water and must be some maiden [in] a bathing-dress, — for it was the color of brown holland web, — and a very peculiar kind of dress it seemed. 

But about this time I discovered with my naked eye that it was a blue heron standing in very shallow water amid the weeds of the bar and pluming itself. 

I had not noticed its legs at all, and its head, neck, and wings, being constantly moving, I had mistaken for arms, elbows, and towel of a bather, and when it stood stiller its shapely body looked like a peculiar bathing-dress. I floated to within twenty-five rods and watched it at my leisure. Standing on the shallowest part of the bar at that end, it was busily dressing its feathers, passing its bill like a comb down its feathers from base to tip. 

From its form and color, as well as size, it was singularly distinct. Its great spear-shaped head and bill was very conspicuous, though least so when turned toward me (whom it was eying from time to time). It coils its neck away upon its back or breast as a sailor might a rope, but occasionally stretches itself to its full height, as tall as a man, and looks around and at me. Growing shy, it begins to wade off, until its body is partly immersed amid the weeds, — potamogetons, — and then it looks more like a goose. The neck is continually varying in length, as it is doubled up or stretched out, and the legs also, as it wades in deeper or shallower water. 

Suddenly comes a second, flying low, and alights on the bar yet nearer to me, almost high and dry. Then I hear a note from them, perhaps of warning, — a short, coarse, frog-like purring or eructating sound. You might easily mistake it for a frog. I heard it half a dozen times. It was not very loud. Anything but musical. 

The last proceeds to plume himself, looking warily at me from time to time, while the other continues to edge off through the weeds. Now and then the latter holds its neck as if it were ready to strike its prey, — stretched forward over the water, — but I saw no stroke.
The arch may be lengthened or shortened, single or double, but the great spear-shaped bill and head are ever the same. A great hammer or pick, prepared to transfix fish, frog, or bird. 

At last, the water becoming too deep for wading, this one takes easily to wing — though up to his body in water — and flies a few rods to the shore. It rather flies, then, than swims. It was evidently scared. These were probably birds of this season. I saw some distinct ferruginous on the angle of the wing. 

There they stood in the midst of the open river, on this shallow and weedy bar in the sun, the leisurely sentries, lazily pluming themselves, as if the day were too long for them. 

They gave a new character to the stream. Adjutant they were to my idea of the river, these two winged men. 

You have not seen our weedy river, you do not know the significance of its weedy bars, until you have seen the blue heron wading and pluming itself on it. I see that it was made for these shallows, and they for it. Now the heron is gone from the weedy shoal, the scene appears incomplete. Of course, the heron has sounded the depth of the water on every bar of the river that is fordable to it. The water there is not so many feet deep, but so many heron's tibiae. Instead of a foot rule you should use a heron's leg for a measure. If you would know the depth of the water on these few shoalest places of Musketaquid, ask the blue heron that wades and fishes there. 

In some places a heron can wade across. 

How long we may have gazed on a particular scenery and think that we have seen and known it, when, at length, some bird or quadruped comes and takes possession of it before our eyes, and imparts to it a wholly new character. The heron uses these shallows as I cannot. I give them up to him. 

By a gauge set in the river I can tell about what time the millers on the stream and its tributaries go to work in the morning and leave off at night, and also can distinguish the Sundays, since it is the day on which the river does not rise, but falls. If I had lost the day of the week, I could recover it by a careful examination of the river. It lies by in the various mill-ponds on Sunday and keeps the Sabbath. What its persuasion is, is another question. 


David Heard says that the cattle liked the pipes so well that they distinguished their rustle from that of other grass as he was bringing them to them, and were eager to get them. The cattle distinguished the peculiar rustle of the pipes in the meadow-hay which was being brought to them, and were eager to get them.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 14, 1859






The zizania now makes quite a show along the river.
See August 18, 1854 ("The zizania on the north side of the river near the Holt, or meadow watering-place, is very conspicuous and abundant.")

There they stood in the midst of the open river, on this shallow and weedy bar in the sun, the leisurely sentries, lazily pluming themselves, as if the day were too long for them. See note to August 19, 1858 ("Blue herons, which have bred or been bred not far from us (plainly), are now at leisure, or are impelled to revisit our slow stream. I have not seen the last since spring. "); August 22, 1858 ("See one or two blue herons every day now, driving them far up or down the river before me."); August 24, 1854 (“See a blue heron standing on the meadow at Fair Haven Pond. At a distance before you, only the two waving lines appear, and you would not suspect the long neck and legs.”). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Blue Heron

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