Showing posts with label february 26. Show all posts
Showing posts with label february 26. Show all posts

Sunday, February 26, 2023

A Book of the Seasons, Signs of the Spring: The Red-wing Arrives

  


No mortal is alert enough 
to be present at the first dawn of the spring. 

Henry Thoreau, March 17, 1857


Blackbird's sharp whistle
heard against the dark winter —
like sparks from the swamp.


February 23.   I have seen signs of the spring.  February 23, 1857

February 26. See five red-wings and a song sparrow(?) this afternoon. February 26, 1851

February 28. One tells me that George Hubbard told him he saw blackbirds go over this forenoon.  February 28, 1860

March 2.  The sharp whistle of the blackbird, too, is heard like single sparks or a shower of them shot up from the swamps and seen against the dark winter in the rear.  March 2, 1859  

March 6. Hear and see the first blackbird, flying east over the Deep Cut, with a tchucktchuck, and finally a split whistle. March 6, 1854 

March 11. I believe that I saw blackbirds yesterday. March 11, 1852

March 11. Fair weather after three rainy days. Air full of birds, — bluebirds, song sparrows, chickadee (phoebe notes), and blackbirds. March 11, 1854

March 11 .  6 a. m. — By riverside I hear the song of many song sparrows, the most of a song of any yet. And on the swamp white oak top by the stone bridge, I see and hear a red-wing. It sings almost steadily on its perch there, sitting all alone, as if to attract companions (and I see two more, also solitary, on different tree-tops within a quarter of a mile), calling the river to life and tempting ice to melt and trickle like its own sprayey notes. Another flies over on high, with a tchuck and at length a clear whistle. The birds anticipate the spring; they come to melt the ice with their songs. March 11, 1859

March 12. This is the blackbird morning. Their sprayey notes and conqueree ring with the song sparrows' jingle all along the river. Thus gradually they acquire confidence to sing. It is a beautiful spring morning.  March 12, 1854

March 13.  I see a small flock of blackbirds flying over, some rising, others falling, yet all advancing together, one flock but many birds, some silent, others tchucking, — incessant alternation. This harmonious movement as in a dance, this agreeing to differ, makes the charm of the spectacle to me. One bird looks fractional, naked, like a single thread or ravelling from the web to which it belongs. Alternation! Alternation! Heaven and hell ! Here again in the flight of a bird, its ricochet motion, is that undulation observed in so many materials, as in the mackerel sky.  March 13, 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 14.  I see a flock of blackbirds and hear their conquereeMarch 14, 1852

March 16.  Thermometer 55; wind slight, west by south. To Abner Buttrick's Hill . . .  Here is a flock of red-wings. I heard one yesterday, and I see a female among these. How handsome as they go by in a checker, each with a bright-scarlet shoulder! They are not so very shy, but mute when we come near. They cover the apple trees like a black fruit. March 16, 1860

March 17.  Channing says he saw blackbirds yesterday. March 17, 1853

March 17.  Now I hear, when passing the south side of the hill, or first when threading the maple swamp far west of it, the tchuck tchuck of a blackbird, and after, a distinct conqueree. So it is a red-wing? . . . Four species of birds have all come in one day, no doubt to almost all parts of the town.  March 17, 1858

March 17. How handsome a flock of red-wings, ever changing its oval form as it advances, by the rear birds passing the others! March 17, 1860

March 18. And now from far southward coming on through the air, the chattering of blackbirds, —probably red-wings, for I hear an imperfect conqueree.  March 18, 1857

March 18When the blackbird gets to a conqueree he seems to be dreaming of the sprays that are to be and on which he is to perch. March 18, 1858

March 19.  This morning I hear the blackbird's fine clear whistle and also his sprayey note, as he is swayed back and forth on the twigs of the elm or of the black willow over the river. His first note may be a chuck, but his second is a rich gurgle or warble.  March 19, 1853

March 19. I hear at last the tchuck tchuck of a blackbird and, looking up, see him flying high over the river southwesterly in great haste to reach somewhere. March 19, 1855

March 19By the river, see distinctly red-wings and hear their conqueree. They are not associated with grackles. They are an age before their cousins, have attained to clearness and liquidity. They are officers, epauletted; the others are rank and file. I distinguish one even by its flight, hovering slowly from tree-top to tree-top, as if ready to utter its liquid notes. Their whistle is very clear and sharp, while the grackle's is ragged and split. It is a fine evening, as I stand on the bridge. The waters are quite smooth; very little ice to be seen. The red-wing and song sparrow are singing, and a flock of tree sparrows is pleasantly warbling. A new era has come. The red-wing's gurgle-ee is heard when smooth waters begin; they come together. One or two boys are out trying their skiffs, even like the fuzzy gnats in the sun, and as often as one turns his boat round on the smooth surface, the setting sun is reflected from its side. March 19, 1858

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.  Overcast and cold. Yet there is quite a concert of birds along the river; the song sparrows are very lively and musical, and the  blackbirds already sing o-gurgle ee-e-e from time to time on the top of a willow or elm or maple, but oftener a sharp, shrill whistle or a tchuckMarch 22, 1855

*****

So I came in and
shut the door and passed my first
spring night in the woods.
Walden, Spring


See also 


A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring:

A Book of the Seasons
, by Henry Thoreau, February 26

  <<<<< Signs of Spring                                                     Early Spring >>>>>


A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring

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

Wednesday, February 26, 2020

Cold and strong northwest wind

February 26

Sunday 2 P. M. — Thermometer 30; cold northwest wind. 

The water is about six inches above Hoar's steps.  That well covers the meadows generally. 

Cold and strong northwest wind this and yesterday.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, February 26, 1860

Cold and strong northwest wind this and yesterday. See February 26, 1855 ("Still clear and cold and windy. . . . This and the last two or three days have been very blustering and unpleasant, though clear. . . .Those great cakes of ice which the last freshet floated up on to uplands now lie still further from the edge of the recent ice.") See also February 9, 1856 ("How much the northwest wind prevails in the winter! Almost all our storms come from that quarter, and the ridges of snow-drifts run that way."); February 10, 1860 ("A very strong and a cold northwest wind to-day, shaking the house, — thermometer at 11 a. m., 14°, — consumes wood and yet we are cold, and drives the smoke down the chimney."); February 17, 1860 ("Cold and northwest wind, drifting the snow. . . .thermometer 14º."); A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, February is Mid-Winter and April 15, 1860 ("Strong northwest wind and cold.. . .We are continually expecting warmer weather than we have”)

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Paint the bottom of my boat

February 26

Cold and windy. The river fast going down.
 
Paint the bottom of my boat. 

What an accursed land, methinks unfit for the habitation of man, where the wild animals are monkeys! 

I saw Mrs. Brooks's spiraeas to-day grown half an inch (!!), whose starting I heard of on the 18th.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, February 26, 1857

Paint the bottom of my boat. See March 9, 1855 (“Painted the bottom of my boat. ”); March 15, 1854 (“Paint my boat. ”) ; March 16, 1860 (“As soon as I can get it painted and dried, I launch my boat and make my first voyage for the year up or down the stream, on that element from which I have been de barred for three months and a half.”); March 17, 1857 (“Launch my boat.”). See also February 23, 1857 ("I have seen signs of the spring.")

I saw Mrs. Brooks's spiraeas to-day. See February 18, 1856 ("Sophia says that Mrs. Brooks's spiraeas have started considerably!”); February 25, 1857 ("I hear of lilac buds expanding, but have not looked at them.")

Friday, February 26, 2016

A Book of the Seasons: February 26 (snow cold wind ice and rain . . . the red wing arrives)


Morning snow turns to
fine freezing rain with a glaze
changing to pure rain.

February 26, 2021

This and the last two or three days have been very blustering and unpleasant, though clear. February 26, 1855

Cold and strong northwest wind this and yesterday. February 26, 1860

2 P. M. — Thermometer 30; cold northwest wind.   February 26, 1860

Still clear and cold and windy. No thawing of the ground during the day.  February 26, 1855

I see some cracks in a plowed field, — Depot Field cornfield, — maybe recent ones. I think since this last cold snap, else I had noticed them before.  February 26, 1855

Cold and windy. The river fast going down. February 26, 1857

In Hubbard’s maple swamp beyond, I see the snow under a dead maple, where a woodpecker has drilled a handsome round hole. Excepting the carrying it downward within, it is ready for a nest. May they not have a view to this use even now?  February 26, 1856

Directly off Clamshell Hill, within four rods of it, where the water is three or four feet deep, I see where the musquash dived and brought up clams before the last freezing.  February 26, 1855

Their open shells are strewn along close to the edge of the ice, and close together. They lie thickly around the edge of each small circle of thinner black ice in the midst of the white, showing where was open water a day or two ago.  February 26, 1855

This shows that this is still a good place for clams, as it was in Indian days.   February 26, 1855

I see at bottom of the mill brook, below Emerson’s, two dead frogs . . . Were they left by a mink, or killed by cold and ice?  February 26, 1856

The brook has part way yet a snowy bridge over it. February 26, 1856

Examine with glass some fox-dung from a tussock of grass amid the ice on the meadow.  February 26, 1855

It appears to be composed two thirds of clay, and the rest a slate-colored fur and coarser white hairs, black-tipped, -- too coarse for the deer mouse.  Is it that of the rabbit? This mingled with small bones. A mass as long as one’s finger.  February 26, 1855

Now we begin to see the Cladonia rangiferina ("reindeer moss") in the dry pastures.  February 26, 1852

Observe for the first time on and about Bear Hill in Lincoln the "greenish straw-colored" 
Parmelia conspersa, a very handsome and memorable lichen, which every child has admired. February 26, 1852

I love to find it where the rocks will split into their laminae so that I can easily carry away a specimen.  February 26, 1852

This morning it began with snowing, turned to a fine freezing rain producing a glaze, — the weeds, trees, etc., are covered with the most of a glaze thus far, — but in the afternoon changes to pure rain. February 26, 1854

The wind rises and the rain increases. The rain is fast washing off all the glaze. February 26, 1854

Deep pools of water form in the fields, which have an agreeable green or blue tint, — sometimes the one, sometimes the other. 
February 26, 1854

The quantity of water which is fallen is by no means remarkable but, the ground being frozen, it is not soaked up. February 26, 1854

There is more water on the surface than before this winter. February 26, 1854

The water is about six inches above Hoar's steps.  That well covers the meadows generally.  February 26, 1860

Those great cakes of ice which the last freshet floated up on to uplands now lie still further from the edge of the recent ice. You are surprised to see them lying with perpendicular edges a foot thick on bare, grassy upland where there is no other sign of water, sometimes wholly isolated by bare grass there. February 26, 1855

When the weather became colder and froze, the new ice only reached part way up these cakes, which lay high and dry. 
February 26, 1855

It is therefore pretty good skating on the river itself and on a greater part of the meadows next the river, but it is interrupted by great cakes of ice rising above the general level near the shore. February 26, 1855

Examined the floating meadow again to-day. It is more than a foot thick, the under part much mixed with ice, — ice and muck.  February 26, 1851

It appeared to me that the meadow surface had been heaved by the frost, and then the water had run down and under it, and finally, when the ice rose, lifted it up, wherever there was ice enough mixed with it to float it.  February 26, 1851

I saw large cakes of ice with other large cakes, the latter as big as a table, on top of them.  February 26, 1851

Probably the former rose while the latter were already floating about.  February 26, 1851

The plants scattered about were bulrushes and lily-pad stems.  February 26, 1851

I saw Mrs. Brooks's spiraeas to-day grown half an inch (!!), whose starting I heard of on the 18th. February 26, 1857

See five red-wings and a song sparrow(?) this afternoon.  February 26, 1851

Paint the bottom of my boat. February 26, 1857

****
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Lichens 
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Fox
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring 

****

February 26, 2017


September 23, 1860 ("I see on the top of the Cliffs to-day the dung of a fox, consisting of fur, with part of the jaw and one of the long rodent teeth of a woodchuck in it, and the rest of it huckleberry seeds with some whole berries")
December 23, 1856 (“The cracking of the ground is a phenomenon of the coldest nights”)
January 11, 1859 ("It would appear then that the ground cracks on the advent of very severe cold weather.")
February 1, 1856 ("What gives to the excrements of the fox that clay color often, even at this season? Left on an eminence. ")
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.")
February 7, 1856 ("Begins to snow at 8 A.M.; turns to rain at noon, and clears off, or rather ceased raining, at night, with some glaze on the trees.")
February 7, 1855 ("The coldest night for a long, long time. People dreaded to go to bed. The ground cracked in the night as if a powder-mill had blown up")
February 9, 1856 ("How much the northwest wind prevails in the winter! Almost all our storms come from that quarter, and the ridges of snow-drifts run that way.")
February 10, 1860 ("A very strong and a cold northwest wind to-day, shaking the house, — thermometer at 11 a. m., 14°, — consumes wood and yet we are cold, and drives the smoke down the chimney.")
February 14, 1854 ("I perceive that some of these pools by the Walden road which on the 9th looked so green have frozen blue.")
February 17, 1860 ("Cold and northwest wind, drifting the snow. . . .thermometer 14º.")
February 18, 1856 ("Sophia says that Mrs. Brooks's spiraeas have started considerably!”)
February 23, 1855 ("I see no cracks in the ground this year yet.")
February 23, 1855 ("I see great cakes of ice, a rod or more in length and one foot thick, lying high and dry on the bare ground in the low fields some ten feet or more beyond the edge of the thinner ice, washed up by the last rise (the 18th).”)
February 24, 1855 ("The whole of the broad meadows is a rough, irregular checker-board of great cakes a rod square or more”)
February 24, 1857 (“I am surprised to hear the strain of a song sparrow from the riverside.”)
February 25, 1857 ("I hear of lilac buds expanding, but have not looked at them.")


February 28, 1855 ("Far on every side, over what is usually dry land, are scattered a stretching pack of great cakes of ice, often two or more upon each other and partly tilted up, a foot thick and one to two or more rods broad.")
March 8, 1860 ("I saw, in Monroe's well by the edge of the river, the other day, a dozen frogs, chiefly shad frogs, which had been dead a good while.")
March 9, 1855 (“Painted the bottom of my boat. ”)
March 11, 1854 ("On Tuesday, the 7th, I heard the first song sparrow chirp, and saw it flit silently from alder to alder. This pleasant morning after three days' rain and mist, they generally forthburst into sprayey song from the low trees along the river. The developing of their song is gradual but sure, like the expanding of a flower. This is the first song I have heard.”)
March 15, 1854 (“Paint my boat.”)
March 16, 1860 (“As soon as I can get it painted and dried, I launch my boat and make my first voyage for the year up or down the stream, on that element from which I have been de barred for three months and a half.”)
March 17, 1857 (“Launch my boat.”)
March 18, 1852 ("There is more rain than snow now falling, and the lichens, especially the Parmelia conspersa, appear to be full of fresh fruit, though they are nearly buried in snow.")
March 28, 1852 (' See . . .dead frogs, and the mud stirred by a living one, in this ditch, and afterward in Conantum Brook a living frog, the first of the season")
April 15, 1860 ("Strong northwest wind and cold.. . .We are continually expecting warmer weather than we have”)


February 26, 2022

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.

  February 24  <<<<<  February 26   >>>>>  February 2

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,   February 26
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 ©  2009-2024

tinyurl.com/HDT26Feb

A snowy bridge over mill brook

February 26

To Hubbard’s Close. 

I see at bottom of the mill brook, below Emerson’s, two dead frogs. The brook has part way yet a snowy bridge over it. Were they left by a mink, or killed by cold and ice? 

In Hubbard’s maple swamp beyond, I see the snow under a dead maple, where a woodpecker has drilled a handsome round hole. Excepting the carrying it downward within, it is ready for a nest. May they not have a view to this use even now?

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, February 26, 1856


Two dead frogs. See March 8, 1860 ("I saw, in Monroe's well by the edge of the river, the other day, a dozen frogs, chiefly shad frogs, which had been dead a good while."); March 28, 1852 ("Dead frogs, and the mud stirred by a living one, in this ditch, and afterward in Conantum Brook a living frog, the first of the season.") See also February 18, 1857 (“When I approached the bank of a ditch this after noon, I saw a frog diving to the bottom.”) and A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring: Frogs, and Turtles Stirring

Snow bridges the brook
two dead frogs at the bottom
killed by cold and ice.

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 ©  2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/HDT-560226

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Late winter

February 26

February 26, 2022

Still clear and cold and windy. 

No thawing of the ground during the day. This and the last two or three days have been very blustering and unpleasant, though clear.

I see some cracks in a plowed field, — Depot Field cornfield, — maybe recent ones. I think since this last cold snap, else I had noticed them before. 

Those great cakes of ice which the last freshet floated up on to uplands now lie still further from the edge of the recent ice. You are surprised to see them lying with perpendicular edges a foot thick on bare, grassy upland where there is no other sign of water, sometimes wholly isolated by bare grass there.

When the weather became colder and froze, the new ice only reached part way up these cakes, which lay high and dry. It is therefore pretty good skating on the river itself and on a greater part of the meadows next the river, but it is interrupted by great cakes of ice rising above the general level near the shore.

Directly off Clamshell Hill, within four rods of it, where the water is three or four feet deep, I see where the musquash dived and brought up clams before the last freezing. Their open shells are strewn along close to the edge of the ice, and close together. They lie thickly around the edge of each small circle of thinner black ice in the midst of the white, showing where was open water a day or two ago. This shows that this is still a good place for clams, as it was in Indian days.

Examine with glass some fox-dung from a tussock of grass amid the ice on the meadow. It appears to be composed two thirds of clay, and the rest a slate-colored fur and coarser white hairs, black-tipped, - too coarse for the deer mouse. Is it that of the rabbit? This mingled with small bones. A mass as long as one’s finger.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, February 26, 1855

Still clear and cold and windy. No thawing . . . very blustering and unpleasant. See February 25, 1855 ("Clear, cold, and windy. "); February 26, 1857 ("Cold and windy."); February 26, 1860 ("Cold and strong northwest wind this and yesterday.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, February is Mid-Winter

I see some cracks in a plowed field, — Depot Field cornfield, — maybe recent ones. I think since this last cold snap, else I had noticed them before.  See  February 7, 1855 ("The coldest night for a long, long time. People dreaded to go to bed. The ground cracked in the night as if a powder-mill had blown up"); February 23, 1855 ("I see no cracks in the ground this year yet."); December 23, 1856 (“The cracking of the ground is a phenomenon of the coldest nights”); January 11, 1859 ("It would appear then that the ground cracks on the advent of very severe cold weather.")

Those great cakes of ice which the last freshet floated up. See February 23, 1855 ("I see great cakes of ice, a rod or more in length and one foot thick, lying high and dry on the bare ground in the low fields some ten feet or more beyond the edge of the thinner ice, washed up by the last rise (the 18th).”); February 24, 1855 ("The whole of the broad meadows is a rough, irregular checker-board of great cakes a rod square or more.”); February 28, 1855 ("Far on every side, over what is usually dry land, are scattered a stretching pack of great cakes of ice, often two or more upon each other and partly tilted up, a foot thick and one to two or more rods broad.")

Pretty good skating on the river itself and on a greater part of the meadows. See February 5, 1855 ("The ice for the last week has reached quite up into the village, so that you could get on to it just in the rear of the bank and set sail on skates for any part of the Concord River valley."); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Winter of Skating

I see where the musquash dived and brought up clams. See January 3, 1860 ("Melvin thinks that the musquash eat more clams now than ever, and that they leave the shells in heaps under the ice."); February 9, 1851 ("The last half of January was warm and thawy. The swift streams were open, and the muskrats were seen swimming and diving and bringing up clams, leaving their shells on the ice.");  April 1, 1860 ("The river was lowest for March yesterday . . . so low that the mouths of the musquash-burrows in the banks are exposed with the piles of shells before them.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,the Musquash

Examine with glass some fox-dung from a tussock of grass amid the ice on the meadow. See February 1, 1856 ("What gives to the excrements of the fox that clay color often, even at this season? Left on an eminence."); September 23, 1860 ("I see on the top of the Cliffs to-day the dung of a fox, consisting of fur, with part of the jaw and one of the long rodent teeth of a woodchuck in it, and the rest of it huckleberry seeds with some whole berries") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Fox

Pretty good skating  
interrupted by great cakes 
of ice near the shore.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Late winter

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-550226

Popular Posts Last 30 Days.

The week ahead in Henry’s journal

The week ahead in Henry’s journal
A journal, a book that shall contain a record of all your joy.
"A stone fruit. Each one yields me a thought." ~ H. D. Thoreau, March 28, 1859


I sit on this rock
wrestling with the melody
that possesses me.