July 25.
Saturday.
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| July 25, 2017 |
Very early this morning we heard the note of the wood thrush, on awaking, though this was a poor singer. I was glad to find that this prince of singers was so common in the wilderness. . . .
The shores of this lake are rocky, rarely sandy, and we saw no good places for moose to come out on, i. e. no meadows. What P. called Caucomgomoc Mountain, with a double top, was seen north over the lake in mid-forenoon. Approaching the shore, we scared up some young dippers with the old bird. Like the shecorways, they ran over the water very fast.
Landing on the east side, four or five miles north of Kineo, I noticed roses (R. nitida) in bloom, and, as usual, an abundance of rue (Thalictrum Cornuti) along the shore. The wood there was arbor-vitae, spruce, fir, white pine, etc. The ground and rotting trunks, as usual, covered with mosses, some strange kinds, — various wild feather and leaf-like mosses, of rank growth, that were new or rare to me, — and an abundance of Clintonia borealis. . . .
The Indian started off first with the canoe and was soon out of sight, going much faster than an ordinary walk. We could see him a mile or more ahead, when his canoe against the sky on the height of land between Moosehead and the Penobscot was all that was to be seen about him. . . .
Here, among others, were the Aster Radula, just in bloom ; large-flowered bellwort (Uvularia grandiflora), in fruit. The great purple orchis (Platanthera fimbriata), very splendid and perfect ones close to the rails. I was surprised to see it in bloom so late. Vaccinium Canadense; Dalibarda repens, still in bloom; Pyrola secunda, out of bloom; Oxalis Acetosella, still occasionally in flower; Labrador tea (Ledum latifolium), out of bloom; Kalmia glauca, etc., etc., close to the track.
A cousin of mine and his son met with a large male moose on this carry two years ago, standing within a few rods of them, and at first mistook him for an ox. They both fired at him, but to no purpose.
As we were returning over the track where I had passed but a few moments before, we started a partridge with her young partly from beneath the wooden rails. While the young hastened away, she sat within seven feet of us and plumed herself, perfectly fearless, without making a noise or ruffling her feathers as they do in our neighborhood, and I thought it would be a good opportunity to observe whether she flew as quietly as other birds when not alarmed. We observed her till we were tired, and when we compelled her to get out of our way, though she took to wing as easily as if we had not been there and went only two or three rods, into a tree, she flew with a considerable whir, as if this were unavoidable in a rapid motion of the wings. . . .
Here was a canoe on the stocks, in an earlier stage of its manufacture than I had seen before, and I noticed it particularly. The St. Francis Indian was paring down the long cedar strips, or lining, with his crooked knife. As near as I could see, and understand him and Polis, they first lay the bark flat on the ground, outside up, and two of the top rails, the inside and thickest ones, already connected with cross-bars, upon it, in order to get the form; and, with logs and rocks to keep the bark in place, they bend up the birch, cutting down slits in the edges from within three feet of the ends and perpendicularly on all sides about the rails, making a square corner at the ground; and a row of stakes three feet high is then driven into the ground all around, to hold the bark up in its place.
They next lift the frame, i. e. two rails connected by cross-bars, to the proper height, and sew the bark strongly to the rails with spruce roots every six inches, the thread passing around the rail and also through the ends of the cross bars, and sew on strips of bark to protect the sides in the middle. The canoe is as yet carried out square down at the ends . . . and is perfectly flat on the bottom. (This canoe had advanced thus far.)
Then, as near as I could learn, they shape the ends (?), put in all the lining of long thin strips, so shaped and shaved as just to fit, and fill up the bark, pressing it out and shaping the canoe. Then they put in the ribs and put on the outer or thinnest rail over the edge of the bark. . . .
Our path up the bank here led by a large dead white pine, in whose trunk near the ground were great square-cornered holes made by the woodpeckers, probably the red-headed. They were seven or eight inches long by four wide and reached to the heart of the tree through an inch or more of sound wood, and looked like great mortise-holes whose corners had been somewhat worn and rounded by a loose tenon. The tree for some distance was quite honeycombed by them. It suggested woodpeckers on a larger scale than ours, as were the trees and the forest. . . .
Returning, we found the tree cranberry in one place still in bloom. The stream here ran very swiftly and was hard to paddle against.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 25, 1857
See
The Maine Woods ("The weather seemed to be more settled this morning, and we set out early in order to finish our voyage up the lake before the wind arose. . . .We crossed a deep and wide bay which makes east ward north of Kineo, leaving an island on our left, and keeping up the eastern side of the lake. . . .We then crossed another broad bay, which, as we could no longer observe the shore particularly, afforded ample time for conversation. . . .The course we took over this lake, and others afterward, was rarely direct, but a succession of curves from point to point, digressing considerably into each of the bays . . .We were obliged to go over this carry twice, our load was so great. But the carries were an agreeable variety, and we improved the opportunity to gather the rare plants which we had seen, when we returned empty handed.. We reached the Penobscot about four o'clock, and found there some St. Francis Indians encamped on the bank, in the same place where I camped with four Indians four years before. They were making a canoe, and, as then, drying moose-meat. . . ..Having reloaded, we paddled down the Penobscot, which, as the Indian remarked, and even I detected, remembering how it looked before, was uncommonly full. . . . When we had gone about three miles down the Penobscot, we saw through the tree-tops a thunder shower coming up in the west, and we looked out a camping-place in good season, about five o'clock, on the west side,. . .The Indian made a little smothered fire of damp leaves close to the back of the camp, that the smoke might drive through and keep out the mosquitoes; but just before we fell asleep this suddenly blazed up, and came near setting fire to the tent. We were considerably molested by mosquitoes at this camp.")
Very early this morning we heard the note of the wood thrush, on awaking . . .As we were returning . . . we started a partridge with her young . . . See
July 25, 1854 ("Hear a wood thrush. I now start some packs of partridges, old and young, going off together without mewing."); July 25, 1852 ("In the meanwhile the wood thrush and the jay and the robin sing around me here, and birds are heard singing from the midst of the fog. ")
