A Book of the Seasons: January 28 (a song sparrow, three ducks, tree sparrows, sun-sparkles, skunk-cabbage, Minott says, the influence of changing weather)

 

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

I rarely failed to find, even in mid-winter, 

some warm and springly swamp 

where the grass and the skunk-cabbage 

still put forth with perennial verdure,

 and some hardier bird occasionally 

awaited the return of spring

~ Walden

January 28

Three ducks sailing the

 river this afternoon though

these are coldest days.

 January 28, 1853

The sun-sparkles where

the river is open so

cheerful to behold.

 January 28, 1853

A song sparrow sits 

on our wood-pile in the yard

in the midst of snow.

January 28, 1857

White pine. Red pine.
January 28, 2018

Though somewhat cool, it has been remarkably pleasant to-day, and the sun-sparkles where the river is open are very cheerful to behold. January 28, 1853

See three ducks sailing in the river behind Prichard's this afternoon, black with white on wings, though these two or three have been the coldest days of the winter, and the river is generally closed. January 28, 1853

Grew warmer toward night and snowed; but this soon turned to heavy rain in the night, which washed all the snow off the ice, leaving only bare ground and ice the county over by next morning. January 28, 1855

Snows all day, about two inches falling. They say it snowed about the same all yesterday in New York. Clears up at night. January 28, 1856

Notice many heaps of leaves on snow on the hillside southwest of the pond, as usual. Probably the rain and thaw have brought down some of them. January 28, 1857

Am again surprised to see a song sparrow sitting for hours on our wood-pile in the yard, in the midst of snow in the yard. January 28, 1857

Remarkable that the coldest of all winters these summer birds should remain. January 28, 1857

In the afternoon this sparrow joined a flock of tree sparrows on the bare ground west of the house. January 28, 1857

The song sparrow did not go off with them. January 28, 1857

It was amusing to see the tree sparrows wash themselves, standing in the puddles and tossing the water over themselves. January 28, 1857

They have had no opportunity to wash for a month, perhaps, there having been no thaw. January 28, 1857

Minott says they wade in to where it is an inch deep and then "splutter splutter," throwing the water over them. January 28, 1857

Minott has a sharp ear for the note of any migrating bird. January 28, 1858

Maybe he listens all day for them, or they come and sing over his house, — report themselves to him and receive their season ticket. January 28, 1858

The other day the rumor went that a flock of geese had been seen flying north over Concord, midwinter as it was, by the almanac. I traced it to Minott. January 28, 1858

He thought that the back of the winter was broken, — if it had any this year, — but he feared such a winter would kill him too. January 28, 1858

I was silent; I reflected; I drew into my mind all its members, like the tortoise; I abandoned myself to unseen guides. January 28, 1858

Suddenly the truth flashed on me. January 28, 1858

I remembered that within a week I had heard of a box at the tavern, which had come by railroad express, containing three wild geese and directed to his neighbor over the brook. January 28, 1858

Melvin tells me that one with whom he deals below says that the best musquash skins come from Concord River, and it is because our musquash are so fat.  January 28, 1859

About Brister's Spring the ferns, which have been covered with snow, and the grass are still quite green. January 28, 1852

The skunk-cabbage in the water is already pushed up, and I find the pinkish head of flowers within its spathe bigger than a pea. January 28, 1852

These warmer days the woodchopper finds that the wood cuts easier than when it had the frost in its sap-wood, though it does not split so readily. January 28, 1852

Thus every change in the weather has its influence on him, and is appreciated by him in a peculiar way. January 28, 1852

Coming through the village at 11 P.M., the sky is completely overcast, and the (perhaps thin) clouds are very distinctly pink or reddish, somewhat as if reflecting a distant fire, but this phenomenon is universal all round and overhead. I suspect there is a red aurora borealis behind. January 28, 1858

January 28, 2018

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Skunk Cabbage

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Musquash

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Tree Sparrow

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow 

A Book of Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Goosander, Merganser)

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Northern Lights

January 28, 2018

August 26, 1859 (" I see sun-sparkles on the river, such as I have not seen for a long time. At any rate, they surprise me. There may be cool veins in the air now, any day. ")
September 2, 1856 ("Minott, whose mind runs on them [pigeons] so much, but whose age and infirmities confine him to his wood-shed on the hillside, saw a small flock a fortnight ago.. . . One man's mind running on pigeons, will sit thus in the midst of a village, many of whose inhabitants never see nor dream of a pigeon except in the pot, and where even naturalists do not observe, and he, looking out with expectation and faith from morning till night, will surely see them.")
September 30, 1857 ("Minott says he is seventy-five years old.")

November 8, 1851 ("Ah, those sun-sparkles on Dudley Pond in this November air! what a heaven to live in! Intensely brilliant, as no artificial light I have seen, like a dance of diamonds. Coarse mazes of a diamond dance seen through the trees.")

December 27, 1852 ("Not a particle of ice in Walden to-day. . . . A black and white duck on it.")
January 2, 1859 ("Minott says that a fox will lead a dog on to thin ice in order that he may get in.)
January 8, 1857 ("Minott says he has lived where he now does as much as sixty years. He has not been up in town for three years, on account of his rheumatism ")
January 15, 1857 ("I saw, to my surprise, that it must be a song sparrow, . . .taken refuge in this shed”)
January 16, 1860 ("I see a flock of tree sparrows busily picking some thing from the surface of the snow amid some bushes.")
January 22, 1857 ("Minott tells me that Sam Barrett told him once when he went to mill that a song sparrow took up its quarters in his grist-mill and stayed there all winter.”)
January 22, 1860 ("Minott says that a hound which pursues a fox by scent cannot tell which way he is going; that the fox is very cunning and will often return on its track over which the dog had already run")
January 23, 1857 ("I may safely say that -5° has been the highest temperature to-day by our thermometer.")
January 23, 1863 ("Minott says that pigeons alight in great flocks on the tops of hemlocks in March, and he thinks they eat the seed.")
January 24, 1860 ("These birds, though they have bright brown and buff backs, hop about amid the little inequalities of the pasture almost unnoticed, such is their color and so humble are they.")
January 27, 1860 ("I occasionally hear a musquash plunge under the ice next the shore.")

January 29, 1853 (Melvin calls the ducks which I saw yesterday "sheldrakes"")
January 29, 1859 ("Many are out in boats, steering outside the ice of the river over the newly flooded meadows, shooting musquash.")
January 30, 1855 ("Minott to-day enumerates the red, gray, black, and what he calls the Sampson fox.")
February 1, 1853 ("Saw a duck in the river; different kind from the last")
February 2, 1858 ("As I return from the post-office, I hear the hoarse, robin-like chirp of a song sparrow on Cheney's ground, and see him perched on the top most twig of a heap of brush, looking forlorn and drabbled and solitary in the rain")
February 3, 1853 ("Saw three ducks in the river.")
February 20, 1857 ("Minott always sits in the corner behind the door, close to the stove, with commonly the cat by his side, often in his lap. Often he sits with his hat on")
February 21, 1855 ("Can it be true, as is said, that geese have gone over Boston, probably yesterday? It is in the newspapers")
February 27, 1860 ("This [sheldrake] is the first bird of the spring that I have seen or heard of.")
March 5, 1854 ("Channing, talking with Minott the other day about his health, said, " I suppose you 'd like to die now." "No," said Minott, "I 've toughed it through the winter, and I want to stay and hear the bluebirds once more."")
March 20, 1853 ("It is glorious to behold the life and joy of this ribbon of water sparkling in the sun. . . There is the difference between winter and spring. The bared face of the pond sparkles with joy.")
April 9, 1859 ("Standing low and more opposite to the sun, then all these dark-blue ripples are all sparkles too bright to look at.")
May 24, 1860 ("How perfectly new and fresh the world is seen to be, when we behold a myriad sparkles of brilliant white sunlight on a rippled stream!")

January 28, 2019

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.

  April 7, 1853 

January 27  <<<<<<<<      January 28   >>>>>>>>  January 29

 A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, January 28

 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

http://tinyurl.com/hdt28jan

Like a bullet that strikes a wall.

January 28. 

Melvin tells me that one with whom he deals below says that the best musquash skins come from Concord River, and it is because our musquash are so fat. M. says that they eat apples, and he has seen where they have eaten acorns, and Isaiah Green told him and convinced him that they ate his seed-corn in the hill. He weighed a very large one the other day, and it weighed five pounds. Thinks they would not commonly weigh more than three. 

January 28, 2019

When you have been deprived of your usual quantity of sleep for several nights, you sleep much more soundly for it, and wake up suddenly like a bullet that strikes a wall.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, January 28, 1859

The best musquash skins. See August 2, 1858 (“Their skins used to be worth fifty cents apiece.”) See also January 29, 1859 ("Many are out in boats, steering outside the ice of the river over the newly flooded meadows, shooting musquash. ");A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Musquash

A rumor of geese.

January 28. 

White pine. Red pine.
January 28, 2018

Minott has a sharp ear for the note of any migrating bird. Though confined to his dooryard by the rheumatism, he commonly hears them sooner than the widest rambler. Maybe he listens all day for them, or they come and sing over his house, — report themselves to him and receive their season ticket. He is never at fault. If he says he heard such a bird, though sitting by his chimney-side, you may depend on it. He can swear through glass. He has not spoiled his ears by attending lectures and caucuses, etc. 

The other day the rumor went that a flock of geese had been seen flying north over Concord, midwinter as it was, by the almanac. I traced it to Minott, and yet I was compelled to doubt. I had it directly that he had heard them within a week. I saw him, – I made haste to him. His reputation was at stake. He said that he stood in his shed, – it was one of the late warm, muggy, April-like mornings, – when he heard one short but distinct honk of a goose. He went into the house, he took his cane, he exerted himself, or that sound imparted strength to him. Lame as he was, he went up on to the hill, – he had not done it for a year, — that he might hear all around. He saw nothing, but he heard the note again. It came from over the brook. It was a wild goose, he was sure of it. 

And hence the rumor spread and grew. He thought that the back of the winter was broken, — if it had any this year, — but he feared such a winter would kill him too. 

I was silent; I reflected; I drew into my mind all its members, like the tortoise; I abandoned myself to unseen guides. Suddenly the truth flashed on me, and I remembered that within a week I had heard of a box at the tavern, which had come by railroad express, containing three wild geese and directed to his neighbor over the brook. The-April-like morning had excited one so that he honked; and Minott's reputation acquired new lustre. 

He has a propensity to tell stories which you have no ears to hear, which you cut short and return unfinished upon him. 

I notice much cotton-like down attached to the long curled-up seed-vessels of the Epilobium angustifolium, such as I think I have seen used in some birds' nests. 

It has been spitting a little snow to-day, and we were uncertain whether it would increase or turn to rain. Coming through the village at 11 P.M., the sky is completely overcast, and the (perhaps thin) clouds are very distinctly pink or reddish, somewhat as if reflecting a distant fire, but this phenomenon is universal all round and overhead. I suspect there is a red aurora borealis behind.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, January 28, 1858

Minott has a sharp ear for the note of any migrating bird. See September 2, 1856 ("Minott, whose mind runs on them [pigeons] so much, but whose age and infirmities confine him to his wood-shed on the hillside, saw a small flock a fortnight ago.. . . One man's mind running on pigeons, will sit thus in the midst of a village, many of whose inhabitants never see nor dream of a pigeon except in the pot, and where even naturalists do not observe, and he, looking out with expectation and faith from morning till night, will surely see them.")

The other day the rumor went that a flock of geese had been seen flying north over Concord, See February 21, 1855 ("Can it be true, as is said, that geese have gone over Boston, probably yesterday? It is in the newspapers")

He thought that the back of the winter was broken, but he feared such a winter would kill him too. See  March 5, 1854 ("Channing, talking with Minott the other day about his health, said, " I suppose you 'd like to die now." "No," said Minott, "I 've toughed it through the winter, and I want to stay and hear the bluebirds once more.");  January 8, 1857 ("Minott says he has lived where he now does as much as sixty years. He has not been up in town for three years, on account of his rheumatism ");  February 20, 1857 ("Minott always sits in the corner behind the door, close to the stove, with commonly the cat by his side, often in his lap. Often he sits with his hat on"); September 30, 1857 ("Minott says he is seventy-five years old."); and note to October 4, 1851 ("Minott is, perhaps, the most poetical farmer — who most realizes to me the poetry of the farmer's life — that I know . . . He loves to walk in a swamp in windy weather and hear the wind groan through the pines.");

A song sparrow on the wood-pile

January 28

Am again surprised to see a song sparrow sitting for hours on our wood-pile in the yard, in the midst of snow in the yard. It is unwilling to move. People go to the pump, and the cat and dog walk round the wood-pile without starting it. I examine it at my leisure through a glass. 

Remarkable that the coldest of all winters these summer birds should remain. Perhaps it is no more comfortable this season further south, where they are accustomed to abide. 

In the afternoon this sparrow joined a flock of tree sparrows on the bare ground west of the house. 

It was amusing to see the tree sparrows wash themselves, standing in the puddles and tossing the water over themselves.  Minott says they wade in to where it is an inch deep and then "splutter splutter," throwing the water over them. They have had no opportunity to wash for a month, perhaps, there having been no thaw. 

The song sparrow did not go off with them. 

January 28, 2018

P. M. — To Walden.  Notice many heaps of leaves on snow on the hillside southwest of the pond, as usual. Probably the rain and thaw have brought down some of them.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, January 28, 1857

Am again surprised to see a song sparrow sitting for hours on our wood-pile in the yard. See January 15, 1857 ("I saw, to my surprise, that it must be a song sparrow . . . taken refuge in this shed”) See also January 22, 1857 ("Minott tells me that Sam Barrett told him once when he went to mill that a song sparrow took up its quarters in his grist-mill and stayed there all winter.”) See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow (Fringilla melodia) 

The coldest of all winters . . . no thaw.  See note to January 23, 1857 ("I may safely say that -5° has been the highest temperature to-day by our thermometer.")

Notice many heaps of leaves on snow on the hillside southwest of the pond, as usual. See December 9, 1856 ("Coming through the Walden woods, I see already great heaps of oak leaves collected in certain places on the snow-crust by the roadside, where an eddy deposited them."); December 11, 1858 ("Already, in hollows in the woods and on the sheltered sides of hills, the fallen leaves are collected in small heaps on the snow-crust. ")

January 28.  See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, January 28

See a song sparrow 

sitting for hours on our 

wood-pile in the yard.

A song sparrow sits

 on our wood-pile in the yard 

in the midst of snow. 

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, A song sparrow on the wood-pile 

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-570128

A Book of the Seasons: January 28.

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

January 28

See three ducks sailing

in the river this afternoon –

black with white on wings.

January 28, 1853

The sun-sparkles where

the river is open are

cheerful to behold.

January 28, 1853 

Cheerful to behold 

the sun-sparkles these coldest 

days of the winter. 

January 28, 1853 

A song sparrow sits 

in the midst of snow on our 

wood-pile in the yard.

January 28, 1857

About Brister's Spring

the ferns and the grass

are still quite green.

January 28, 1852

White pine. Red pine.
January 28, 2018

Though somewhat cool, it has been remarkably pleasant to-day, and the sun-sparkles where the river is open are very cheerful to behold. January 28, 1853


See three ducks sailing in the river behind Prichard's this afternoon, black with white on wings, though these two or three have been the coldest days of the winter, and the river is generally closed. January 28, 1853

Am again surprised to see a song sparrow sitting for hours on our wood-pile in the yard, in the midst of snow in the yard. January 28, 1857

About Brister's Spring the ferns, which have been covered with snow, and the grass are still quite green. January 28, 1852

The skunk-cabbage in the water is already pushed up, and I find the pinkish head of flowers within its spathe bigger than a pea. January 28, 1852

These warmer days the woodchopper finds that the wood cuts easier than when it had the frost in its sap-wood, though it does not split so readily. January 28, 1852

Thus every change in the weather has its influence on him, and is appreciated by him in a peculiar way. January 28, 1852

Coming through the village at 11 P.M., the sky is completely overcast, and the (perhaps thin) clouds are very distinctly pink or reddish, somewhat as if reflecting a distant fire, but this phenomenon is universal all round and overhead. I suspect there is a red aurora borealis behind. January 28, 1858

January 28, 2018

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Skunk Cabbage

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Musquash

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Tree Sparrow

A Book of the Seasons,    by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow 

A Book of Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Goosander, Merganser)

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Northern Lights

January 28, 2018

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 © 2009-2016

50, 51 54, 60

Snow all day.

January 28

January 28, 2016

Snows all day, about two inches falling. They say it snowed about the same all yesterday in New York. 

Clears up at night.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, January 28, 1856

Another thaw

January 28

Sunday.

Grew warmer toward night and snowed; but this soon turned to heavy rain in the night, which washed all the snow off the ice, leaving only bare ground and ice the county over by next morning.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, January 28, 1855

Sun-sparkles where the river is open.

January 28

See three ducks sailing in the river behind Prichard's this afternoon, black with white on wings, though these two or three have been the coldest days of the winter, and the river is generally closed.

Though somewhat cool, it has been remarkably pleasant to-day, and the sun-sparkles where the river is open are very cheerful to behold.

January 28, 2019

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, January 28, 1853

See three ducks sailing in the river though these two or three have been the coldest days of the winter, and the river is generally closed. See January 29, 1853 (Melvin calls the ducks which I saw yesterday "sheldrakes""); December 27, 1852 ("Not a particle of ice in Walden to-day . . .  A black and white duck on it.");  February 1, 1853 ("Saw a duck in the river; different kind from the last");  February 3, 1853 ("Saw three ducks in the river."); See also February 27, 1860 ("This [sheldrake] 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”) and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Merganser, Goosander)

The sun-sparkles where the river is open are very cheerful to behold. See February 27, 1852 ("The main river is not yet open but in very few places, but the North Branch, . . .flowing with full tide bordered with ice on either side, sparkles in the clear, cool air . . . If rivers come out of their icy prison thus bright and immortal, shall not I too resume my spring life with joy and hope?"); March 20, 1853 ("It is glorious to behold the life and joy of this ribbon of water sparkling in the sun . . . It is the contrast between life and death. There is the difference between winter and spring. The bared face of the pond sparkles with joy."); May 24, 1860 ("How perfectly new and fresh the world is seen to be, when we behold a myriad sparkles of brilliant white sunlight on a rippled stream!")

January 28. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, January 28

This cold afternoon

three ducks sailing the river –

black with white on wings.

The sun-sparkles where

the river is open so

cheerful to behold.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  Sun-sparkles where the river is open.

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-530128

At Brister's Spring

January 28.

These warmer days the woodchopper finds that the wood cuts easier than when it had the frost in its sap-wood, though it does not split so readily. Thus every change in the weather has its influence on him, and is appreciated by him in a peculiar way.

About Brister's Spring the ferns, which have been covered with snow, and the grass are still quite green. 

The skunk-cabbage in the water is already pushed up, and I find the pinkish head of flowers within its spathe bigger than a pea.


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, January 28, 1852

The skunk-cabbage in the water is already pushed up. See Walden ("I rarely failed to find, even in mid-winter, some warm and springly swamp where the grass and the skunk-cabbage still put forth with perennial verdure.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Signs of Spring: the Skunk Cabbage

January 28. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, January 28

About Brister's Spring

the ferns and the grass

are still quite green.

 A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, At Brister's 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 © 2009-2026