A Book of the Seasons: March 30 (the threshold between winter and summer)

 

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

March 30

The thin floating ice

turned on its edge by the wind

sparkling in the sun.

March 30, 1854

Man comes out of his

winter quarters this month as

lean as a woodchuck.

March 30, 1855

With silent footsteps

the spring advances in spite

of ice cold and snow.

March 30, 1856

Crossing the threshold

between winter and summer—

shoes instead of boots.

March 30, 1860

March 30, 2018

(The threshold between winter and summer)

Spring is already upon us. I see the tortoises, or rather I hear them drop from the bank into the brooks at my approach. The catkins of the alders have blossomed. The pads are springing at the bottom of the water. The pewee is heard, and the lark. March 30, 1851


Saw a pewee from the railroad causeway . . . Though the frost is nearly out of the ground, the winter has not broken up in me. It is a backward season with me. Perhaps we grow older and older till we no longer sympathize with the revolution of the seasons, and our winters never break up. To-day, as frequently for some time past, we have a raw east wind, which is rare in winter. I see as yet very little, perhaps no, new growth in the plants in open fields, but only the green radical leaves which have been kept fresh under the snow; but if I should explore carefully about their roots, I should find some expanding buds and even new-rising shoots . . . From the Cliffs I see that Fair Haven Pond is open over the channel of the river, — which is in fact thus only revealed, of the same width as elsewhere, running from the end of Baker' s Wood to the point of the Island. The slight current there has worn away the ice. I never knew before exactly where the channel was. It is pretty central . . .On the warm slope of the Cliffs the radical (?) leaves of the St. John's-wort (somewhat spurge-like), small on slender sprigs, have been evergreen under the snow. In this warm locality there is some recent growth nearest the ground. The leaves of the Saxifraga vernalis on the most mossy rocks are quite fresh. March 30, 1852

I see again that same kind of clouds that I saw the 10th of last April, low in the sky; higher and over head those great downy clouds, equal to the intervals of celestial blue, with glowing edges and with wet bases. The sky is mapped with them . . . The motions of a hawk correcting the flaws in the wind by raising his shoulder from time to time, are much like those of a leaf yielding to them. For the little hawks are hunting now. You have not to sit long on the Cliffs before you see one . . . Ah, those youthful days! are they never to return? when the walker does not too curiously observe particulars, but sees, hears, scents, tastes, and feels only himself, -- the phenomena that show themselves in him, -- his expanding body, his intellect and heart. . . . the unbounded universe was his. March 30, 1853

Very severe cold and high winds cold enough to skim the river over in broad places at night, and commencing with the greatest and most destructive gale for many a year, has never ceased to blow since till this morning. The ground these last cold (thirteen) days has been about bare of snow, but frozen. At the Island I see and hear this morning the cackle of a pigeon woodpecker at the hollow poplar; had heard him tapping distinctly from my boat's place. Great flocks of tree sparrows and some F. hyemalis on the ground and trees on the Island Neck, making the air and bushes ring with their jingling. The river early is partly filled with thin, floating, hardly cemented ice, occasionally turned on its edge by the wind and sparkling in the sun. March 30, 1854

It is a little warmer than of late, though still the shallows are skimmed over. The pickerel begin to dart from the shallowest parts not frozen. I hear many phe-be notes from the chickadees, as if they appreciated this slightly warmer and sunny morning. A fine day. As I look through the window, I actually see a warmer atmosphere with its fine shimmer against the russet hills and the dry leaves, though the warmth has not got into the house and it is no more bright nor less windy than yesterday, or many days past. I find that the difference to the eye is a slight haze, though it is but very little warmer than yesterday. To-day and yesterday have been bright, windy days. — west wind, cool, yet, compared with the previous colder ones, pleasantly, gratefully cool to me on my cheek. There is a very perceptible greenness on our south bank now, but I cannot detect the slightest greenness on the south side of Lee’s Hill as I sail by it. It is a perfectly dead russet. The river is but about a foot above the lowest summer level. I have seen a few F. hyemalis about the house in the morning the last few days. You see a few blackbirds, robins, bluebirds, tree sparrows, larks, etc., but the song sparrow chiefly is heard these days. He must have a great deal of life in him to draw upon, who can pick up a subsistence in November and March. Man comes out of his winter quarters this month as lean as a woodchuck. Not till late could the skunk find a place where the ground was thawed on the surface. Except for science, do not travel in such a climate as this in November and March. I tried if a fish would take the bait to-day; but in vain; I did not get a nibble. Where are they? I read that a great many bass were taken in the Merrimack last week. Do not the suckers move at the same time? March 30, 1855

Still cold and blustering. . . ..These cold days have made the ice of Walden dry and pretty hard again at top. It is just twenty-four inches thick in the middle, about eleven inches of snow ice. It has lost but a trifle on the surface. . . .I go to Fair Haven via the Andromeda Swamps. The snow is a foot and more in depth there still. There is a little bare ground in and next to the swampy woods at the head of Well Meadow,. . .How silent are the footsteps of Spring! . . . all surrounded and hemmed in by snow, which has covered the ground since Christmas and stretches as far as you can see on every side; and there are as intense blue shadows on the snow as I ever saw. The spring advances in spite of snow and ice, and cold even.. . . I can just see a little greening on our bare and dry south bank. In warm recesses and clefts in meadows and rocks in the midst of ice and snow, nay, even under the snow, vegetation commences and steadily advances.. . . But the pond and river are very solid yet. I walk over the pond and down on the middle of the river to the bridge, without seeing an opening. See probably a hen-hawk (?) (black tips to wings), sailing low over the low cliff next the river, looking probably for birds. [May have been a marsh hawk or harrier.] The south hillsides no sooner begin to be bare, and the striped squirrels and birds resort there, than the hawks come from southward to prey on them. I think that even the hen-hawk is here in winter only as the robin is. March 30, 1856

Another fine afternoon, warmer than before . . . The frogs are now heard leaping into the ditches on your approach, bullfrog under my boat. Approaching carefully the little pool south of Hubbard's Grove, I see the dimples where the croakers which were on the surface have dived, and I see two or three still spread out on the surface, in the sun. They are very wary, and instantly dive to the bottom on your approach and bury themselves in the weeds or mud. The water is quite smooth, and it is very warm here, just under the edge of the wood, but I do not hear any croaking. Later, in a pool behind Lee's Cliff, I hear them, – the waking up of the leafy pools. . . . They seem to be an early frog, peculiar to pools and small ponds in the woods and fields. . . Landing at Bittern Cliff, I went round through the woods to get sight of ducks on the pond. Creeping down through the woods, I reached the rocks, and saw fifteen or twenty sheldrakes scattered about. . . . I saw seven or eight all dive together as with one consent, remaining under half a minute or more. On another side you see a party which seem to be playing and pluming themselves. They will run and dive and come up and dive again every three or four feet, occasionally one pursuing an other; will flutter in the water, making it fly, or erect themselves at full length on the surface like a penguin, and flap their wings. This party make an incessant noise. Again you will see some steadily tacking this way or that in the middle of the pond, and often they rest there asleep with their heads in their backs. They readily cross the pond, swimming from this side to that. While I am watching the ducks, a mosquito is endeavoring to sting me. At dusk I hear two flocks of geese go over. March 30, 1858

Hear a red squirrel chirrup at me by the hemlocks (running up a hemlock), all for my benefit; not that he is excited by fear, I think, but so full is he of animal spirits that he makes a great ado about the least event . . .You might say that he successfully accomplished the difficult feat of singing and whistling at the same time . . .The green-bodied flies out on sheds, and probably nearly as long as the other; the same size as the house-fly. I see numerous large skaters on a ditch. . . .A very small brown grasshopper hops into the water . . .Little pollywogs two inches long are lively there. See on Walden two sheldrakes, male and female, as is common. So they have for some time paired. . . .A man cannot walk down to the shore or stand out on a hill overlooking the pond without disturbing them. They will have an eye upon him. The locomotive-whistle makes every wild duck start that is floating within the limits of the town. I see that these ducks are not here for protection alone, for at last they both dive, and remain beneath about forty pulse-beats, — and again, and again. I think they are looking for fishes. Perhaps, therefore, these divers are more likely to alight in Walden than the black ducks are. Hear the hovering note of a snipe. March 30, 1859

A very warm and pleasant day (at 2 P.M., 63° and rising). The afternoon so warm -- wind southwest -- you take off coat. The streets are quite dusty for the first time. The earth is more dry and genial, and you seem to be crossing the threshold between winter and summer. As I walk the street I realize that a new season has arrived. It is time to begin to leave your greatcoat at home, to put on shoes instead of boots and feel lightfooted. March 30, 1860

Walden must have skimmed nearly, if not entirely, over again once since the 11th or 12th, or after it had been some time completely clear. It seems, then, that in some years it may thaw and freeze again. March 30, 1861

*****

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Ice Out

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Wood Frog (Rana sylvatica)

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Red Squirrel

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

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, St. Johns-wort (Hypericum)

 A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Saxifrage in Spring (Saxifraga vernalis)

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Alders

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Eastern Phoebe

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Pigeon Woodpecker

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Dark-eyed Junco 

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

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Lark in Early Spring

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Snipe

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Marsh Hawk

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

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

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, A body awake in the world.

March 30, 2017

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 

March 29.. < <<<<< March 30 >>>>> March 31

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, March 30

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-march30

In some years it may thaw and freeze again.

 

March 30.

March 30, 2017

High water, — up to sixth slat (or gap) above Smith's second post. It is said to have been some nine inches higher about a month ago, when the snow first went off. 

R. W. E. lately found a Norway pine cut down in Stow's wood by Saw Mill Brook. 

According to Channing's account, Walden must have skimmed nearly, if not entirely, over again once since the 11th or 12th, or after it had been some time completely clear. It seems, then, that in some years it may thaw and freeze again.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 30, 1861

High water —nine inches higher about a month ago, See March 30, 1855 ("The river is but about a foot above the lowest summer level.")

R. W. E. lately found a Norway pine. See February 27, 1851 ("Saw to-day on Pine Hill . . . a Norway pine, the first I have seen in Concord. . . . It was a very handsome tree, about twenty-five feet high.")

 Walden must have skimmed nearly, if not entirely, over again once since the 11th or 12th. See March 11, 1861 ("C. says that Walden is almost entirely open to-day, . . . This shows how many things are to be taken into account in judging of such a pond. I have not been able to go to the pond the past winter. I infer that, if it has broken up thus early, it must be because the ice was thin, and that it was thin not for want of cold generally, but because of the abundance of snow which lay on it.")  Compare March 30, 1856 ("These cold days have made the ice of Walden dry and pretty hard again at top. It is just twenty-four inches thick"); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-Out

Though the frost is nearly out of the ground, the winter has not broken up in me

March 30. 

March 30, 2013

Dug some parsnips this morning. They break off about ten inches from the surface, the ground being frozen there.

The Cliffs remind me of that narrow place in the brook where two meadows nearly meet, with floating grass, though the water is deeper there under the bank than anywhere. So the Cliffs are a place where two summers nearly meet. 

Put up a bluebird-box, and found a whole egg in it. Saw a pewee from the rail road causeway. 

Having occasion to-day to put up a long ladder against the house, I found, from the trembling of my nerves with the exertion, that I had not exercised that part of my system this winter  How much I may have lost! It would do me good to go forth and work hard and sweat. Though the frost is nearly out of the ground, the winter has not broken up in me. It is a backward season with me. 

Perhaps we grow older and older till we no longer sympathize with the revolution of the seasons, and our winters never break up. 

To-day, as frequently for some time past, we have a raw east wind, which is rare in winter. 

I see as yet very little, perhaps no, new growth in the plants in open fields, but only the green radical leaves which have been kept fresh under the snow; but if I should explore carefully about their roots, I should find some expanding buds and even new-rising shoots. 

The farmers are making haste to clear up their wood-lots, which they have cut off the past winter, to get off the tops and brush, that they may not be too late and injure the young sprouts and lose a year's growth in the operation, also that they may be ready for their spring work.

From the Cliffs I see that Fair Haven Pond is open over the channel of the river, — which is in fact thus only revealed, of the same width as elsewhere, running from the end of Baker' s Wood to the point of the Island. The slight current there has worn away the ice. I never knew before exactly where the channel was. It is pretty central. 

I perceive the hollow sound from the rocky ground as I tread and stamp about the Cliffs, and am reminded how much more sure children are to notice this peculiarity than grown persons. I remember when I used to make this a regular part of the entertainment when I conducted a stranger to the Cliffs. 

On the warm slope of the Cliffs the radical (?) leaves of the St. John's- wort (somewhat spurge-like), small on slender sprigs, have been evergreen under the snow. In this warm locality there is some recent growth nearest the ground. 

The leaves of the Saxifraga vernalis on the most mossy rocks are quite fresh. 

That large evergreen leaf sometimes mistaken for the mayflower is the Pyrola rotundifolia and perhaps some other species. 

What are those leaves in rounded beds, curled and hoary beneath, reddish-rown above, looking as if covered with frost? It is now budded, - a white, downy bud. [The Gnaphalium plantaginifolium and G. purpureum.]


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 30, 1852

Perhaps we grow older and older till we no longer sympathize with the revolution of the seasons, and our winters never break up. See March 31, 1852 ("Perchance as we grow old we cease to spring with the spring, and we are indifferent to the succession of years, and they go by without epoch as months"); August 23, 1853 ("Perhaps after middle age man ceases to be interested in the morning and in the spring.”)

Though the frost is nearly out of the ground, the winter has not broken up in me. See March 9, 1852 (" When the frost comes out of the ground, there is a corresponding thawing of the man.”); March 21, 1853 ("Winter breaks up within us; the frost is coming out of me, and I am heaved like the road; accumulated masses of ice and snow dissolve, and thoughts like a freshet pour down unwonted channels.")

I see that Fair Haven Pond is open over the channel of the river. See March 30, 1856 ("I walk over the pond and down on the middle of the river to the bridge, without seeing an opening."); March 26, 1860 ("Fair Haven Pond may be open by the 20th of March, as this year, or not till April 13 as in '56, or twenty-three days later.”)  See Also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out


On the warm slope of the Cliffs the radical leaves of the St. John's- wort  have been evergreen under the snow. See January 9, 1855 ("How pretty the evergreen radical shoots of the St. John’s-wort now exposed, partly red or lake, various species of it.. . .A little wreath of green and red lying along on the muddy ground amid the melting snows.")

The leaves of the Saxifraga vernalis on the most mossy rocks are quite fresh. See March 30, 1856 ("[I]n this warm recess at the head of the meadow, though the rest of the meadow is covered with snow a foot or more in depth, I am surprised to see . . . the golden saxifrage, green and abundant")

Singing and whistling at the same time.

March 30. 

March 30, 2016

6 a.m. — To Hill (across water). 

Hear a red squirrel chirrup at me by the hemlocks (running up a hemlock), all for my benefit; not that he is excited by fear, I think, but so full is he of animal spirits that he makes a great ado about the least event. 

At first he scratches on the bark very rapidly with his hind feet without moving the fore feet. He makes so many queer sounds, and so different from one another, that you would think they came from half a dozen creatures. I hear now two sounds from him of a very distinct character, — a low or base inward, worming, screwing, or brewing, kind of sound (very like that, by the way, which an anxious partridge mother makes) and at the same time a very sharp and shrill bark, and clear, on a very high key, totally distinct from the last, — while his tail is flashing incessantly. 

You might say that he successfully accomplished the difficult feat of singing and whistling at the same time. 

P. M. — To Walden via Hubbard's Close. 

The green-bodied flies out on sheds, and probably nearly as long as the other; the same size as the house-fly. 

I see numerous large skaters on a ditch. This may be the Gerris lacustris, but its belly is not white, only whitish in certain lights. It has six legs, two feelers (the two foremost legs being directed forward), a stout-ish body, and brown above. The belly looks whitish when you look at it edgewise, but turned quite over (on its back), it is brown. 

A very small brown grasshopper hops into the water. 

I notice again (in the spring-holes in Hubbard's Close) that water purslane, being covered with water, is an evergreen, — though it is reddish. 

Little pollywogs two inches long are lively there. 

See on Walden two sheldrakes, male and female, as is common. So they have for some time paired. They are a hundred rods off. The male the larger, with his black head and white breast, the female with a red head. With my glass I see the long red bills of both. They swim at first one way near together, then tack and swim the other, looking around incessantly, never quite at their ease, wary and watchful for foes. A man cannot walk down to the shore or stand out on a hill overlooking the pond without disturbing them. They will have an eye upon him. 

The locomotive-whistle makes every wild duck start that is floating within the limits of the town. I see that these ducks are not here for protection alone, for at last they both dive, and remain beneath about forty pulse-beats, — and again, and again. I think they are looking for fishes. Perhaps, therefore, these divers are more likely to alight in Walden than the black ducks are. 

Hear the hovering note of a snipe.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 30, 1859

Hear a red squirrel chirrup at me by the hemlocks (running up a hemlock), all for my benefit; not that he is excited by fear, I think, but so full is he of animal spirits that he makes a great ado about the least event. See October 5, 1857 (“I hear the alarum of a small red squirrel. . . .  It is evident that all this ado does not proceed from fear. There is at the bottom, no doubt, an excess of inquisitiveness and caution, but the greater part is make-believe and a love of the marvellous.) See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Red Squirrel

I see numerous large skaters on a ditch. See March 29, 1853 ("Tried several times to catch a skater. Got my hand close to him; grasped at him as quick as possible; was sure I had got him this time; let the water run out between my fingers; hoped I had not crushed him; opened my hand; and lo! he was not there. I never succeeded in catching one.”) See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Water-bug (Gyrinus) and  Skaters (Hydrometridae)

See on Walden two sheldrakes, male and female, as is common. . .  They swim at first one way near together, then tack and swim the other, looking around incessantly, never quite at their ease, wary and watchful for foes. See March 30, 1858 ("The full plumaged males, conspicuously black and white and often swimming in pairs, appeared to be the most wary, keeping furthest out. ").See also March 27, 1858 ("They are now pairing. . . .At first we see only a male and female quite on the alert, some way out on the pond, tacking back and forth and looking every way."); April 7, 1855 ("But they will let you come only within some sixty rods ordinarily. I observe that they are uneasy at sight of me and begin to sail away in different directions."). Also see A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Goosander, Merganser)

Hear the hovering note of a snipe. See March 29, 1858 ("At the first pool I also scared up a snipe. It rises with a single cra-a-ckand goes off with its zigzag flight, with its bill presented to the earth, ready to charge bayonets against the inhabitants of the mud.”); April 1, 1853 ("Now, at early starlight, I hear the Snipe’s hovering note as he circles over Nawshawtuct Meadow. . . . It sounds very much like a winnowing-machine increasing rapidly in intensity for a few seconds.”) See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Snipe

A pair of ravens 

now crossing in front of us

in erratic flight.

March 30, 2019

An early frog, peculiar to pools and small ponds in the woods and fields.

March 30. 

March 30, 2018

P. M. – To my boat at Cardinal Shore and thence to Lee's Cliff. 

Another fine afternoon, warmer than before, I think. I walk in the fields now without slumping in the thawing ground, or there are but few soft places, and the distant sand-banks look dry and warm. 

The frogs are now heard leaping into the ditches on your approach, bullfrog under my boat. 

Approaching carefully the little pool south of Hubbard's Grove, I see the dimples where the croakers which were on the surface have dived, and I see two or three still spread out on the surface, in the sun. They are very wary, and instantly dive to the bottom on your approach and bury themselves in the weeds or mud. The water is quite smooth, and it is very warm here, just under the edge of the wood, but I do not hear any croaking. Later, in a pool behind Lee's Cliff, I hear them, – the waking up of the leafy pools. The last was a pool amid the blue berry and huckleberry and a few little pines. I do not remember that I ever hear this frog in the river or ponds. They seem to be an early frog, peculiar to pools and small ponds in the woods and fields. 

I notice, scampering over this water, two or three brown spiders, middling-sized. They appear to be the ones which have spun this gossamer. 

There is at the bottom of this pool much of the ludwigia, that evergreen weed seen in winter at the bottom of pools and ditches. Methinks those peculiar bulbs, some of which I see near it, are of this plant.

 Landing at Bittern Cliff, I went round through the woods to get sight of ducks on the pond. Creeping down through the woods, I reached the rocks, and saw fifteen or twenty sheldrakes scattered about. The full plumaged males, conspicuously black and white and often swimming in pairs, appeared to be the most wary, keeping furthest out. Others, with much less white and duller black, were very busily fishing just north the inlet of the pond, where there is about three feet of water, and others still playing and preening themselves. 

These ducks, whose tame representatives are so sluggish and deliberate in their motions, were full of activity. A party of these ducks fishing and playing is a very lively scene. On one side, for instance, you will see a party of eight or ten busily diving and most of the time under water, not rising high when they come up, and soon plunging again. The whole surface will be in commotion there, though no ducks may be seen. I saw one come up with a large fish, whereupon all the rest, as they successively came to the surface, gave chase to it, while it held its prey over the water in its bill, and they pursued with a great rush and clatter a dozen or more rods over the surface, making a great furrow in the water, but, there being some trees in the way, I could not see the issue. 

I saw seven or eight all dive together as with one consent, remaining under half a minute or more. On another side you see a party which seem to be playing and pluming themselves. They will run and dive and come up and dive again every three or four feet, occasionally one pursuing an other; will flutter in the water, making it fly, or erect themselves at full length on the surface like a penguin, and flap their wings. This party make an incessant noise. Again you will see some steadily tacking this way or that in the middle of the pond, and often they rest there asleep with their heads in their backs. They readily cross the pond, swimming from this side to that.

While I am watching the ducks, a mosquito is endeavoring to sting me. 

At dusk I hear two flocks of geese go over.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 30, 1858

Approaching carefully the little pool south of Hubbard's Grove, I see the dimples where the croakers which were on the surface have dived. Later, in a pool behind Lee's Cliff, I hear them, – the waking up of the leafy pools. See March 26, 1860 ("The wood frog may be heard March 15, as this year, or not till April 13, as in’56, — twenty-nine days."); March 15, 1860 ("Am surprised to hear, from the pool behind Lee's Cliff, the croaking of the wood frog. . . . How suddenly they awake! yesterday, as it were, asleep and dormant, to-day as lively as ever they are. The awakening of the leafy woodland pools.."); March 23, 1859 ("I hear a single croak from a wood frog. . . . Thus we sit on that rock, hear the first wood frog's croak"); March 24, 1859 (" Can you ever be sure that you have heard the very first wood frog in the township croak?"); March 26, 1857 ("As I go through the woods by Andromeda Ponds, though it is rather cool and windy in exposed places, I hear a faint, stertorous croak from a frog in the open swamp; at first one faint note only, which I could not be sure that I had heard, but, after listening long, one or two more suddenly croaked in confirmation of my faith, and all was silent again."); March 27, 1853 ("Tried to see the faint-croaking frogs at J. P. Brown's Pond in the woods. They are remarkably timid and shy; had their noses and eyes out, croaking, but all ceased, dove, and concealed themselves, before I got within a rod of the shore."); March 28, 1858 ("Coming home, I hear the croaking frogs in the pool on the south side of Hubbard’s Grove. It is sufficiently warm for them at last."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Wood Frog (Rana sylvatica)

Now in the woods there is still snow but many open places running with water in the trails. My old snowshoe tracks are elevated. The streams are rushing. There is no difficulty going anywhere. No out of breath. We go to the view via under view trail and up the shortcut. It being too windy from the west we go to the double chair. I had not been here in the several weeks since the big snows. The red maples are showing their buds We hear and see crows usually in pairs coursing overhead.

Down the mountain trail there are spots where it is bare earth. Quite different to be walking on this solid ground. The snow is rain-saturated mushy and easy walking although there is some sliding.

On the other side of the middle pond a tree has a root growing perpendicularly out of the trunk about two or 3 feet up making a nice seat. Probably was a seedling on a tip up that is now gone.Above the cliff trail that woodpecker tree is now fallen over. The top half of the cliff trail is easy --no longer any snow. We spend good time sawing  branches and eventually saw our way through the pine that blocks the trail along the cliff. A long walk staying out almost ’til 8. (And it is light this late ) zphx 20180330

A Book of the Seasons: March 30

 March 30.

The thin floating ice
turned on its edge by the wind
sparkling in the sun.
March 30, 1854

Man comes out of his
winter quarters this month as
lean as a woodchuck.
March 30, 1855

With silent footsteps
the spring advances in spite
of ice, cold and snow.
March 30, 1856

The spring advances  

In warm recesses in midst

of  snow ice and cold.

March 30, 1856

Crossing the threshold
between winter and summer—
shoes instead of boots.
March 30, 1860

March 30, 2028

 

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 © 2009-2017

How silent are the footsteps of Spring!

March 30

March 30, 2016

P. M. — To Walden and Fair Haven. 

Still cold and blustering. I come out to see the sand and subsoil in the Deep Cut, as I would to see a spring flower, some redness in the cheek of Earth.

These cold days have made the ice of Walden dry and pretty hard again at top. It is just twenty-four inches thick in the middle, about eleven inches of snow ice. It has lost but a trifle on the surface. The inside is quite moist, the clear ice very crystalline and leaky, letting the water up from below, so as to hinder my cutting. It seems to be more porous and brittle than the snow ice. 

I go to Fair Haven via the Andromeda Swamps. The snow is a foot and more in depth there still. There is a little bare ground in and next to the swampy woods at the head of Well Meadow, where the springs and little black rills are flowing. I see already one blade, three or four inches long, of that purple or lake grass, lying flat on some water, between snow—clad banks, — the first leaf with a rich bloom on it. 

How silent are the footsteps of Spring! 

There, too, where there is a fraction of the meadow, two rods over, quite bare, under the bank, in this warm recess at the head of the meadow, though the rest of the meadow is covered with snow a foot or more in depth, I am surprised to see the skunk cabbage, with its great spear-heads open and ready to blossom (i. e. shed pollen in a day or two); and the Caltha palustris bud, which shows yellowish; and the golden saxifrage, green and abundant; also there are many fresh tender leaves of (apparently) the gold thread in open meadow there, all surrounded and hemmed in by snow, which has covered the ground since Christmas and stretches as far as you can see on every side; and there are as intense blue shadows on the snow as I ever saw. 

The spring advances in spite of snow and ice, and cold even. 

The ground under the snow has long since felt the influence of the spring sun, whose rays fall at a more favorable angle. The tufts or tussocks next the edge of the snow were crowned with dense phalanxes of stiff spears of the stiff triangularish sedge-grass, five inches high but quite yellow with a very slight greenness at the tip, showing that they pushed up through the snow, which melting, they had not yet acquired color. This is the greatest growth of any plant I have seen. I had not suspected any. 

I can just see a little greening on our bare and dry south bank. In warm recesses and clefts in meadows and rocks in the midst of ice and snow, nay, even under the snow, vegetation commences and steadily advances. 

I find Fair Haven Pond and the river lifted up a foot or more, the result of the long, steady thaw in the sun. The water of the pond and river has run over the meadows, mixing with and partly covering the snow, making it somewhat difficult to get into the river on the east side. On the east side of the pond, the ice next the shore is still frozen to the bottom under water by one edge, while the other slants upward to meet the main body of the ice of the pond. This sort of canal on one or both sides of the river is from a rod to three or four rods wide. This is the most decided step toward breaking up as yet.

But the pond and river are very solid yet. I walk over the pond and down on the middle of the river to the bridge, without seeing an opening. 

See probably a hen-hawk (?) (black tips to wings), sailing low over the low cliff next the river, looking probably for birds. [May have been a marsh hawk or harrier.] 

The south hillsides no sooner begin to be bare, and the striped squirrels and birds resort there, than the hawks come from southward to prey on them. I think that even the hen-hawk is here in winter only as the robin is. 

For twenty-five rods the Corner road is impassable to horses, because of their slumping in the old snow; and a new path has been dug, which a fence shuts off the old. Thus they have served the roads on all sides the town.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 30, 1856

See probably a hen hawk (?) ... may have been a marsh hawk or harrier. See March 27, 1855 (“See . . . [the hen-barrier, i.e. marsh hawk, male.] Slate-colored; . . . black tips to wings and white rump.”); March 29, 1854 ("See two marsh hawks (?), white on rump... think I saw a hen-hawk”);  March 6, 1858 ("I see the first hen-hawk, or hawk of any kind, methinks, since the beginning of winter."); March 15, 1860 ("These hawks[hen-hawks], as usual, began to be common about the first of March, showing that they were returning from their winter quarters. . . . An easily recognized figure anywhere.”); March 23, 1859 (“. . .we saw a hen-hawk perch on the topmost plume of one of the tall pines at the head of the meadow. Soon another appeared, probably its mate, but we looked in vain for a nest there. It was a fine sight, their soaring above our heads, presenting a perfect outline and, as they came round, showing their rust-colored tails with a whitish rump, or, as they sailed away from us, that slight teetering or quivering motion of their dark-tipped wings seen edgewise, now on this side, now that, by which they balanced and directed themselves.”).  See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The hen-hawk. Note What HDT calls the "marsh hawk/hen harrier" is the northern harrier.   The “hen-hawk” is the red-tailed  hawk. ~ zphx

The south hillsides no sooner begin to be bare, and the striped squirrels and birds resort there, than the hawks come from southward to prey on them. See March 30, 1853 ("Hawks are hunting now. You have not to sit long on the Cliffs before you see one.") 

The snow is a foot and more in depth there still. See February 19, 1856 (" seventeen or eighteen inches deep on a level."); March 26, 1857 ("Men will hardly believe me when I tell them of the thickness of snow and ice at this time last year.")

Man comes out of his

winter quarters this month as

lean as a woodchuck.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  How silent are the footsteps of 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 © 2009-2025

*****

Rob and Eldred cut down trees at both views it really has improved things, the view spectacular but it is a sad day for the trees there is of course a jumble at the base. We survey the upper view around sunset. And somehow in the dark coming to the Moss Trail up the trail we go and then made a trail at the top of it I thought towards our land but when we left the marked area we walked and walked and talked and said she frankly didn't know where we were I got out the compass and we were headed east we found the main  Kendall trail and presently she said I think we should cut through here we come out somewhat south of where we usually do to ascend what I call the Saddletrail and go to sit at the view again. 20160330 Zphx

Man comes out of his winter quarters this month

March 30

To Island. 

It is a little warmer than of late, though still the shallows are skimmed over. The pickerel begin to dart from the shallowest parts not frozen. 

I hear many phe-be notes from the chickadees, as if they appreciated this slightly warmer and sunny morning. A fine day. 

As I look through the window, I actually see a warmer atmosphere with its fine shimmer against the russet hills and the dry leaves, though the warmth has not got into the house and it is no more bright nor less windy than yesterday, or many days past. I find that the difference to the eye is a slight haze, though it is but very little warmer than yesterday. 

Mach 30, 2016

To-day and yesterday have been bright, windy days. —west wind, cool, yet, compared with the previous colder ones, pleasantly, gratefully cool to me on my cheek. 

There is a very perceptible greenness on our south bank now, but I cannot detect the slightest greenness on the south side of Lee’s Hill as I sail by it. It is a perfectly dead russet. 

The river is but about a foot above the lowest summer level. 

I have seen a few F. hyemalis about the house in the morning the last few days. You see a few blackbirds, robins, bluebirds, tree sparrows, larks, etc., but the song sparrow chiefly is heard these days. 

He must have a great deal of life in him to draw upon, who can pick up a subsistence in November and March. Man comes out of his winter quarters this month as lean as a woodchuck. Not till late could the skunk find a place where the ground was thawed on the surface. Except for science, do not travel in such a climate as this in November and March. 

I tried if a fish would take the bait to-day; but in vain; I did not get a nibble. Where are they? I read that a great many bass were taken in the Merrimack last week. Do not the suckers move at the same time?

H, D. Thoreau, Journal, March 30, 1855

Still the shallows are skimmed over. The pickerel begin to dart from the shallowest parts not frozen. See March 22, 1860 ("Pickerel begin to dart in shallows."); March 27, 1857 ("Pickerel begin to dart in shallows."); April 1, 1860 ("Pickerel dart, and probably have some time. "); April 7, 1860 ("What was lately motionless and lifeless ice is a transparent liquid in which the stately pickerel moves along.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Pickerel

I hear many phe-be notes from the chickadees, as if they appreciated this slightly warmer and sunny morning. A fine day. See March 21, 1859 ("It is peculiarly interesting that this, which is one of our winter birds also, should have a note with which to welcome the spring"); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring, the spring note of the chickadee.

A warmer atmosphere with its fine shimmer against the russet hills and the dry leaves. See March 5, 1855 ("This strong, warm wind, rustling the leaves on the hillsides, this blue haze, and the russet earth seen through it, remind me that a new season has come."); April 15, 1859 ("There is quite a shimmer in the air, the day being pretty warm . . . the earliest shimmer in the spring"); See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Brown Season

To-day and yesterday have been bright, windy days. —west wind, cool, yet . . . gratefully cool to me on my cheek.  See March 29, 1855 ("This, which is a chilling wind to my fellow, is decidedly refreshing to me. ") See also  March 21, 1853 ("It is a genial and reassuring day; the mere warmth of the west wind amounts almost to balminess."); March 21, 1855 ("Clear, but a very cold westerly wind this morning.")  See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring, March is famous for its winds

There is a very perceptible greenness on our south bank now. See March 30, 1856("I can just see a little greening on our bare and dry south bank.");  See also   March 22, 1860 ("The phenomena of an average March are increasing warmth, melting the snow and ice and. .. some greenness appearing on south bank"); March 24, 1855 ("The earliest signs of spring in vegetation noticed thus far are the maple sap, the willow catkins, grass on south banks, and perhaps cowslip in sheltered places. ")  and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring, greening grasses and sedges

I have seen a few F. hyemalis about the house in the morning the last few days. You see a few blackbirds, robins, bluebirds, tree sparrows, larks, etc., but the song sparrow chiefly is heard these days. See  March 30, 1851("Spring is already upon us. . . .  Th,e catkins of the alders have blossomed. The pads are springing at the bottom of the water. The pewee [phoebe] is heard, and the lark. ); March 30, 1854 ("Great flocks of tree sparrows and some F. hyemalis,") See also. March 15, 1854 ("Hear on the alders by the river the lill lill lill lill of the first F. hyemalis, mingled with song sparrows and tree sparrows");  March 23, 1854 ("The birds in yard active now, — hyemalis, tree sparrow, and song sparrow. The hyemalis jingle easily distinguished. Hear all together on apple trees these days."); April 1, 1854 (" The tree sparrows, hyemalis, and song sparrows are particularly lively and musical in the yard this rainy and truly April day. The air rings with them."); April 2, 1852 (“The air is full of the notes of birds, - song sparrows, red-wings, robins (singing a strain), bluebirds, - and I hear also a lark, - as if all the earth had burst forth into song.”)  See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco (Fringilla hyemalis); A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Robins in Spring; A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Tree Sparrow; A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow (Fringilla melodia); A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bluebird in Early Spring. A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Red-wing in Spring

Man comes out of his winter quarters this month as lean as a woodchuck. See March 22, 1853 ("It affects one's philosophy, after so long living in winter quarters, to see the day dawn from some hill . . . such reviving spring days."); March 22, 1860 ("The phenomena of an average March . . . Skunks are active and frolic; woodchucks and ground squirrels come forth."). See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring; The Woodchuck Ventures Out

Not till late could the skunk find a place where the ground was thawed on the surface. See March 10, 1854 ("I have no doubt they have begun to probe already where the ground permits, — or as far as it does. But what have they eat all winter?"); March 28, 1855 (" I see where a skunk (apparently) has been probing the sod, though it is thawed but a few inches, and all around this spot frozen hard still. "); See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring; Skunks Active

I tried if a fish would take the bait to-day . . . Where are they? See March 20, 1858 ("The fish lurks by the mouth of its native brook, watching its opportunity to dart up the stream . . . Each rill is peopled with new life rushing up it")

March 30. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,   March 30

Man comes out of his

winter quarters this month as

lean as a woodchuck.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  

Man comes out of his winter quarters this month 

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-18550329