To let the wind blow me also to other climes.

 

May 9. 

Tuesday.

To Boston and Cambridge.

Currant in garden, but ours may be a late kind.

Purple finch still here.

Looking at the birds at the Natural History Rooms, I find that I have not seen the crow blackbird at all yet this season.

Perhaps I have seen the rusty-black bird, though I am not sure what those slaty-black ones are, as large as the red-wings, nor those pure-black fellows, unless rusty blackbirds.

I think that my blackbirds of the morning of the 24th may have been cowbirds.

Sat on end of Long Wharf.

Was surprised to observe that so many of the men on board the shipping were pure countrymen in dress and habits, and the seaport is no more than a country town to which they come a-trading. I found about the wharves, steering the coasters and unloading the ships, men in farmer's dress.

As I watched the various craft successively unfurling their sails and getting to sea, I felt more than for many years inclined to let the wind blow me also to other climes.

Harris showed me a list of plants in Hovey's Magazine (I think for '42 or '43) not in Bigelow's Botany, -- seventeen or eighteen of them, among the rest a pine I have not seen, etc., etc., q. v.

Perla marginata

That early narrow curved-winged insect on ice and river which I thought an ephemera he says is a Sialis, or maybe rather a Perla. Thinks it the Donatia palmata I gave him. Says the shad-flies (with streamers and erect wings ) are ephemeræ. 

He spoke of Podura nivalis, I think meaning ours.

Planted melons.


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 9, 1854

I think that my blackbirds of the morning of the 24th may have been cowbirds. See April 24, 1854 ("Saw a black blackbird without red, with a purplish-green-black neck, and somewhat less than a red-wing, in company with two smaller slaty black females (?). Can they be rusty grackles?")

As I watched the various craft successively unfurling their sails and getting to sea, I felt more than for many years inclined to let the wind blow me also to other climes See December 25, 1853 ("When I go to Boston, I go naturally straight through the city down to the end of Long Wharf and look off");  November 5, 1859 ("Sat at the end of Long Wharf for coolness, but it was very warm, with scarcely a breath of wind, and so thick a haze that I could see but little way down the harbor.")

The first Indian-summer day, See November 1, 2015 ("A beautiful Indian-summer day, the most remarkable hitherto and equal to any of the kind. "); November 1, 1860 ("A perfect Indian-summer day, and wonderfully warm. 72+ at 1 P. M. and probably warmer at two.");November 6, 1857 ("Thermometer on north of the house 70° at 12 M. Indian summer.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The world can never be more beautiful than now.

That early narrow curved-winged insect on ice and river which I thought an ephemera he says is a Sialis, or maybe rather a Perla. See March 22, 1856 ("On water standing above the ice under a white maple, are many of those Perla (?) insects, with four wings, drowned, though it is all ice and snow around the country over. Do not see any flying, nor before this"); March 24, 1857 ("I see many of those narrow four-winged insects (perla?) of the ice now fluttering on the water like ephemerae. They have two pairs of wings indistinctly spotted dark and light."); March 17, 1858 ("As usual, I have seen for some weeks on the ice these peculiar (perla?) insects with long wings and two tails."); March 7, 1859 ("I also see — but their appearance is a regular early spring, or late winter, phenomenon — a great many of those slender black-bodied insects from one quarter to (with the feelers) one inch long, with six legs and long gray wings, two feelers before, and two forks or tails like feelers for convenience Perla."); March 3, 1860 ("I see one of those gray-winged (long and slender) perla-like insects by the waterside this afternoon.")

Says the shad-flies (with streamers and erect wings ) are ephemeræ. See May 1, 1854 ("The water is strewn with myriads of wrecked shad-flies, erect on the surface, with their wings up like so many schooners all headed one way.”); ;June 2, 1854 "The whole atmosphere over the river was full of shad-flies.. . . It was a great flight of ephemera"); June 9, 1854 (" The air is now full of shad-flies, and there is an incessant sound made by the fishes leaping for their evening meal.”); May 4, 1856 ("Shad-flies on the water, schooner-like."); June 8, 1856 (“My boat being by chance at the same place where it was in ’54, I noticed a great flight of ephemera”); June 9, 1856 ("Again, about seven, the ephemera came out, in numbers as many as last night, ... and the fishes leap as before.")  See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Insect Hatches in Spring 

May 9. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: May 9

On end of Long Wharf

inclined to let the wind blow

me to other climes.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Sat on end of Long Wharf.

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/hdt-540509

To paddle now at evening when the water is smooth and the air begins to be warm.

May 9. 

May 9, 2020

Since I returned from Haverhill not only I find the ducks are gone but I no longer hear the chill lill of the blue snowbird or the sweet strains of the fox-colored sparrow and the tree sparrow. The robin's strain is less remarkable. 

I have devoted most of my day to Mr. Alcott. He is broad and genial but indefinite; some would say feeble; forever feeling about vainly in his speech and touching nothing. But this is a very negative account of him for he thus suggests far more than the sharp and definite practical mind. The feelers of his thought diverge — such is the breadth of their grasp — not converge; and in his society almost alone I can express at my leisure with more or less success my vaguest but most cherished fancy or thought. There are never any obstacles in the way of our meeting. He has no creed. He is not pledged to any institution. The sanest man I ever knew; the fewest crotchets after all has he? 

It has occurred to me while I am thinking with pleasure of our day's intercourse, “Why should I not think aloud to you?” Having each some shingles of thought well dried we walk and whittle them trying our knives and admiring the clear yellowish grain of the pumpkin pine. We wade so gently and reverently or we pull together so smoothly that the fishes of thought are not scared from the stream but come and go grandly like yonder clouds that float peacefully through the western sky. When we walk it seems as if the heavens — whose mother-oʻ-pearl and rainbow tints come and go form and dissolve — and the earth had met together and righteousness and peace had kissed each other. I have an ally against the arch-enemy. A blue robed man dwells under the blue concave. The blue sky is a distant reflection of the azure serenity that looks out from under a human brow. We walk together like the most innocent children going after wild pinks with case-knives. Most with whom I endeavor to talk soon fetch up against some institution or particular way of viewing things theirs not being a universal view. They will continually bring their own roofs or — what is not much better — their own narrow skylights between us and the sky when it is the unobstructed heavens I would view. Get out of the way with your old Jewish cobwebs. Wash your windows. 

Saw on Mr. Emerson's firs several parti-colored warblers or finch creepers (Sylvia Americana) a small blue and yellow bird somewhat like but smaller than the indigo-bird; quite tame about the buds of the firs now showing red; often head downward. Heard no note. He says it has been here a day or two. 

At sundown paddled up the river. The pump-like note of a stake-driver from the fenny place across the Lee meadow. 

The greenest and rankest grass as yet is that in the water along the sides of the river. The hylodes are peeping. 

I love to paddle now at evening when the water is smooth and the air begins to be warm. 

The rich warble of blackbirds about retiring is loud and incessant not to mention the notes of numerous other birds. The black willow has started but not yet the button-bush. Again I think I heard the night-warbler. 

Now at starlight that same nighthawk or snipe squeak is heard but no hovering. 

The first bat goes suddenly zigzag overhead through the dusky air; comes out of the dusk and disappears into it. 

That slumbrous snoring croak far less ringing and musical than the toad' s (which is occasionally heard) now comes up from the meadows edge. 

I save a floating plank which exhales and imparts to my hands the rank scent of the muskrats which have squatted on it. I often see their fresh green excrement on rocks and wood. 

Already men are fishing for pouts. 

This has been almost the first warm day; none yet quite so warm. Walking to the Cliffs this afternoon I noticed on Fair Haven Hill a season stillness as I looked over the distant budding forest and heard the buzzing of a fly.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 9, 1853

I no longer hear the chill lill of the blue snowbird or the sweet strains of the fox-colored sparrow and the tree sparrow. See April 17, 1855 ("The fox-colored sparrows seem to be gone, and I suspect that most of the tree sparrows and F. hyemalis, at least, went yesterday.")

I have devoted most of my day to Mr. Alcott. See July 4, 1855 ("So we have to spend the day in Boston, —at Athenaeum gallery, Alcott’s, and at the regatta. Lodge at Alcott’s, who is about moving to Walpole."); September 11, 1856  ("Walked over what Alcott calls Farm Hill, east of his house."); January 17, 1860 ("Alcott said well the other day that this was his definition of heaven, 'A place where you can have a little conversation.'")

Several parti-colored warblers or finch creepers (Sylvia Americana) a small blue and yellow bird quite tame about the buds of the firs now showing red; often head downward. Heard no note. See May 9, 1858  ("The parti-colored warbler . . .— my tweezer-bird, – making the screep screep screep note. It is an almost incessant singer . . . utters its humble notes, like ah twze twze twze, or ah twze twze twze twze."). See also A Book of Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the parti-colored warbler (Sylvia Americana)

 The pump-like note of a stake-driver from the fenny place across the Lee meadow. See  May 9, 1857 ("Hear stake-driver"), See also  April 24, 1854 (" As I stand still listening . . . I hear the loud and distinct pump-a-gor of a stake-driver. Thus he announces himself.”)..

That slumbrous snoring croak far less ringing and musical than the toad's now comes up from the meadows edge. See May 8. 1857 ("The full moon rises, and I paddle by its light, It is an evening for the soft-snoring, purring frogs (which I suspect to be Rana palustris).. . . Their croak is very fine or rapid, and has a soft, purring sound at a little distance")

The first thunder this afternoon.

May 9. 

Black birch May 9, 2015

Surveying for Stow near Flint's Pond. 

Hear the warbling vireo and oven-bird; yellow-throat vireo(?). 

One helping me says he scared up a whip-poor-will from the ground. 

See black birch bloom fallen effete. 

The first thunder this afternoon.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 9, 1859

Hear the warbling vireo and oven-bird; yellow-throat vireo See May 9, 1860 ("Oven-bird, how long? ). See also May 1, 1852 ("I think I heard an oven-bird just now, - wicher wicher whicher wich.");  May 6, 1852 ("Hear the first warbling vireo this morning on the elms. This almost makes a summer. "); May 6, 1859 ("  Hear yellow-throat vireo, and probably some new warblers."); May 10, 1858 ("As I paddle along, hear the Maryland yellow-throat, the bobolink, the oven-bird, and the yellow-throated vireo.")

The first thunder this afternoon. See May 11, 1859 (“In that first thunder-shower, the evening of the 9th, the grass evidently erected itself and grew darker, as it were instantaneously”); see also May 10, 1857 ("Before night a sudden shower with some thunder and lightning; the first.”); May 11, 1854 (“It is surprising what an electrifying effect this shower appears to have had. It is like the christening of the summer. I suspect that summer weather may be always ushered in in a similar manner, — thunder-shower, rainbow, smooth water, and warm night”); May 12, 1858 (“I see now, as I go forth on the river, the first summer shower coming up in the northwest, a dark and well defined cloud with rain falling sheaf-like from it, . . .The thunder-cloud is like the ovary of a perfect flower. Other showers are merely staminiferous or barren. There are twenty barren to one fertile. It is not commonly till thus late in the season that the fertile are seen. In the thunder-cloud, so distinct and condensed, there is a positive energy, and I notice the first as the bursting of the pollen-cells in the flower of the sky.”)

This makes the fifth kind of frog or toad spawn that I have detected this year..

May 9. 

P. M. – To Holden and to Ledum Swamp. 

See two Rana halecina. They have the green halo, but are plain brown between the spots on the back and not vivid light-green like the one of May 4th. 

See in Ludwigia palustris ditch on Hubbard’s land evidently toad-spawn already hatched, or flatted out. I distinguish the long strings, now straighter than usual and floating thin on the surface. It is less obvious than frog-spawn, and might easily be overlooked on a slimy surface. I can distinguish the little pollywog while yet in the ova by their being quite small and very black. 

This makes the fifth kind of frog or toad spawn that I have detected this year.

See, in the Holden Swamp wood, the bird of May 3d. It has sly and inquisitive ways, holding down its head and looking at me at some distance off. It has a distinct white line along the bill and about the eyes, and no yellow there, as is said of the white-eyed vireo, and I am now inclined to think it the solitary vireo (?), whose song is not described, and which is considered rare. I should say it had a blue-slate head, and, I note, a distinct yellowish vent, which none of the vireos are allowed to have!! The sides of the body are distinctly yellow, but there is none at all on the throat or breast. 

Vaccinium Pennsylvanicum, – how long? — by owl nest tree. 

Sylvia Americana

The parti-colored warbler is very common and musical there, — my tweezer-bird, – making the screep screep screep note. It is an almost incessant singer and a very handsomely marked bird. It frequents the spruce trees, at regular intervals pausing as it flits, hops, and creeps about from limb to limb or up the main stem, and holding up its head, utters its humble notes, like ah twze twze twze, or ah twze twze twze twze.

I notice very large clams, apparently the Unio complanatus (vide two specimens in drawer), or common, in West Meadow Brook near the road, one more than four and a half inches long. I have before seen them very large in brooks. 

A dandelion perfectly gone to seed, a complete globe, a system in itself. 

My Rana palustris spawn, laid in house May 5th, in the sun this afternoon swells and rises to the surface in the jar, so that the uppermost ova project slightly above it.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 9, 1858

The fifth kind of frog or toad spawn. See note to May 6, 1858 (Frogs of Massachusetts)

The parti-colored warbler — my tweezer-bird. See May 18, 1856 ("A Sylvia Americana, — parti-colored warbler, — in the Holden Wood, sings a, tshrea tshrea tshrea, tshre’ tshritty tshrit’." and note to May 13, 1856 ("The tweezer-bird or Sylvia Americana. . . . the parti-colored warbler, and was that switter switter switter switter swit also by it?.”) See also A Book of Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Parti-Colored (Parula) Warbler (Sylvia Americana)

The bird of May 3d. . . . I am now inclined to think it the solitary vireo. See May 3, 1858.("See and hear a new bird to me. At first it was silent, and I took it for the common pewee, but, bringing my glass to bear on it, found it to be pure white throat and beneath, yellow on sides of body or wings, greenish-yellow back and shoulders, a white or whitish ring about eyes, and a light mark along side of head,
two white bars on wings, apparently black bill and dark or perhaps slate-colored (?) wings and above tail. It surprised me by singing in a novel and powerful and rich strain.")

Who saw the otter?

May 9. 

Another fine day. 

6 a. m. — On water. 

Maryland yellow-throat. Aspen leaves one inch over.

Hear stake-driver. Black and white creeper's fine note. Er-te-ter-twee, or evergreen-forest note. Golden-crowned thrush note. Kingbird. 

P. M. To Gilson's Mill, Littleton. 

George Brooks points to an old house of which one half the roof only has been shingled, etc., etc., and says he guessed it to be a widow's dower from this, and on inquiry found it so. 

Went to Gilson's tumble-down mill and house. He appeared, licking his chaps after dinner, in a mealy coat, and suddenly asked in the midst of a sentence, with a shrug of his shoulders, 

"Isn't there something painted on my back ?" 

There were some marks in red chalk they used to chalk the bags with, and he said he thought he had felt his son at the mill chalking his back. He feared he was making an exhibition before strangers. 

The boy speared fishes, chiefly suckers, pouts, etc. A fire in a hand-crate carried along the bank of the brook (Stony Brook). He had lately speared a sucker weighing five and a quarter pounds, which he sold; went back and forth some twenty-five rods and found the suckers less shy at last than at first. 

Saw otter there. 

I saw many perch at the foot of the falls. 

He said that they and trout could get up five or six feet over the rocks there into the pond, it being a much broken fall.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 9, 1857

Hear stake-driver. See May 9, 1853 ("At sundown paddled up the river. The pump-like note of a stake-driver from the fenny place across the Lee meadow."); April 24, 1854 ("I hear the loud and distinct pump-a-gor of a stake-driver. Thus he announces himself."); May 12, 1855 ("A distant stake-driver"); May 20, 1856 ("See and hear a stake-driver in the swamp. It took one short pull at its pump and stopped.")

Saw otter there. Consider. Did Thoreau, while visiting the falls at Littleton, see an otter? Or is he recounting a second-hand story about Gilson the miller's son? See March 31, 1857 ("The existence of the otter, our largest wild animal, is not betrayed to any of our senses (or at least not to more than one in a thousand)!"); April 6, 1855 ("it reminds me of an otter, which however I have never seen."); February 20, 1855 (among the quadrupeds of Concord, the otter is "very rare."); January 30, 1854 ("How retired an otter manages to live! He grows to be four feet long without any mortal getting a glimpse of him,");  January 21, 1853 ("Otter are very rare here now.”); and the Natural History of Massachusetts (1842) ("The bear, wolf, lynx, wildcat, deer, beaver, and marten have disappeared ; the otter is rarely if ever seen here at present; and the mink is less common than formerly..")

A Book of the Seasons: May 9 (New days have come, smooth waters, warblers, vireos, dandelions, first bat)

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

May 9

Suddenly zigzag

overhead the first bat comes

out and disappears.

May 9, 1853

A dandelion

 perfectly gone to seed – a 

 system in itself.   

May 9, 1858

The distinct hollow

tapping this still, cloudy day –

the water is smooth.

May 9, 1860

Sitting by the shore

this still cloudy thoughtful day

counting frog noses.

May 9, 1860 

It is a still, cloudy, thoughtful day. May 9, 1860

Our moods vary from week to week, with the winds and the temperature and the revolution of the seasons. It is impossible to remember a week ago. May 9, 1852

Cattle going up country for ten days past. You must keep your gate shut. May 9, 1860

Saw on Mr. Emerson's firs several parti-colored warblers or finch creepers (Sylvia Americana) a small blue and yellow bird somewhat like but smaller than the indigo-bird; quite tame about the buds of the firs now showing red; often head downward. Heard no note. He says it has been here a day or two. May 9, 1853

The parti-colored warbler is very common and musical there, — my tweezer-bird, – making the screep screep screep note. It is an almost incessant singer and a very handsomely marked bird. . . and holding up its head, utters its humble notes, like ah twze twze twze, or ah twze twze twze twze. May 9, 1858

New days, then, have come, ushered in by the warbling vireo, yellowbird, Maryland yellow-throat, and small pewee. May 9, 1853

Maryland yellow-throat. Aspen leaves one inch over. Hear stake-driver. Black and white creeper's fine note. Er-te-ter-twee, or evergreen-forest note. Golden-crowned thrush note.  May 9, 1857

Hear the warbling vireo and oven-bird. May 9, 1859.

Oven-bird, how long? May 9, 1860

The tapping of a woodpecker sounds distinct and hollow this still cloudy day. The water is smooth. May 9, 1860 

Hear, methinks, a white throated sparrow (?) sing very much like the beginning of a catbird’s song. Could see no other bird. Thought it a catbird at first. See several of these sparrows yet.  May 9, 1855

The robin's strain is less remarkable. May 9, 1853

I no longer hear the chill lill of the blue snowbird or the sweet strains of the fox-colored sparrow and the tree sparrow. May 9, 1853

May 9, 2016

The first thunder this afternoon. May 9, 1859

Sugar maple blossoms are now a tender yellow. May 9, 1860

A large red maple just begun to leaf -- its keys an inch and a half long. May 9, 1855

I smell the blossoms of the willows, . . . a quarter of a mile to windward. May 9, 1852

The first shad-bush, Juneberry, or service-berry (Amclanchier canadensis), in blossom. May 9, 1852

I see a second amelanchier with a distinct pink or rosaceous tinge like an apple blossom. May 9, 1860

Cornus alternifolia and paniculata begin to leaf. May 9, 1855

The young birch leaves reflect the light in the sun. May 9, 1852

See black birch bloom fallen effete. May 9, 1859.

The first Viola pedata and also, in a low place, the first Viola cucullata. May 9, 1852

The Viola ovata is one of the minutest of spring flowers, — two leaves and a blossom-bud showing the blue close to the earth. What haste to push up and open its lesser azure to the greater above! Such a disproportion of blossom to the leaves! Almost literally a pretty delicate blue flower bursting forth from the scurf of the earth. May 9, 1852

A dandelion perfectly gone to seed, a complete globe, a system in itself. May 9, 1858

Thousands of dandelions along the meadow by the Mill Brook in prime. May 9, 1860

[Dr. Harris] says the shad-flies (with streamers and erect wings ) are ephemeræ. May 9, 1854.

That early narrow curved-winged insect on ice and river which I thought an ephemera he says is a Sialis, or maybe rather a Perla. May 9, 1854.

Sat on end of Long Wharf. As I watched the various craft successively unfurling their sails and getting to sea, I felt more than for many years inclined to let the wind blow me also to other climes. May 9, 1854.

At sundown paddled up the river. The pump-like note of a stake-driver from the fenny place across the Lee meadow. May 9, 1853

That slumbrous snoring croak far less ringing and musical than the toad' s (which is occasionally heard) now comes up from the meadows edge. May 9, 1853

See two Rana halecina. They have the green halo, but are plain brown between the spots on the back. May 9, 1858

After sitting there a little while, I count the noses of twenty frogs within a couple of rods, which have ventured to come to the surface again, — so quietly that I did not see one come up.  May 9, 1860

I love to paddle now at evening when the water is smooth and the air begins to be warm.  May 9, 1853

The first bat goes suddenly zigzag overhead through the dusky air; comes out of the dusk and disappears into it.  May 9, 1853

Now at starlight that same nighthawk or snipe squeak is heard but no hovering.  May 9, 1853

This has been almost the first warm day; none yet quite so warm. Walking to the Cliffs this afternoon I noticed on Fair Haven Hill a season stillness as I looked over the distant budding forest and heard the buzzing of a fly.  May 9, 1853

Another fine day. May 9, 1857

The blue sky is a distant reflection of the azure serenity that looks out from under a human brow.May 9, 1853

*****

May 9, 2014

May 9, 2016

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, To Know Nature's Moods

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The world can never be more beautiful than now

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Leaf-Out

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Insect Hatches in Spring

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Birds of May

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The   Pickerel frog  (Rana palustris)

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Rana Halecina in Spring

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Shad-bush, Juneberry, or Service-berry 

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Willows on the Causeway

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Aspens

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Birches.

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

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

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  the Fox-colored Sparrow; 

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

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, White-throated Sparrow

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  Winter Birds

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Robin in Spring

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Small Pewee

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Oven-bird

A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau, The Black and White Creeper

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Parti-Colored (Parula) Warbler 

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

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, American Bittern (the Stake-Diver)

Our moods vary from week to week, with the winds and the temperature and the revolution of the seasons. See April 24, 1859 ("The moods and thoughts of man are revolving just as steadily and incessantly as nature’s.”); September 24, 1859 ("I would know when in the year to expect certain thoughts and moods”); January 23, 1858 (“It is in vain to write on the seasons unless you have the seasons in you.”); October 26, 1857 ("The seasons and all their changes are in me. ... My moods are thus periodical, not two days in my year alike.”); December 16, 1853 (" Would you be well, see that you are attuned to each mood of nature.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, To Know Nature's Moods

I no longer hear the chill lill of the blue snowbird or the sweet strains of the fox-colored sparrow and the tree sparrow. See April 17, 1855 ("The fox-colored sparrows seem to be gone, and I suspect that most of the tree sparrows and F. hyemalis, at least, went yesterday.") See also  A Book of the Seasons,, by Henry Thoreau, the Fox-colored Sparrow; A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Tree Sparrow and  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Winter Birds

Hear the warbling vireo and oven-bird; yellow-throat vireo See May 9, 1860 ("Oven-bird, how long?). See also May 1, 1852 ("I think I heard an oven-bird just now, - wicher wicher whicher wich."); May 6, 1852 ("Hear the first warbling vireo this morning on the elms. This almost makes a summer. "); May 6, 1859 (" Hear yellow-throat vireo, and probably some new warblers."); May 10, 1858 ("As I paddle along, hear the Maryland yellow-throat, the bobolink, the oven-bird, and the yellow-throated vireo.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Oven-bird

The first thunder this afternoon. See May 11, 1859 (“In that first thunder-shower, the evening of the 9th, the grass evidently erected itself and grew darker, as it were instantaneously”); see also May 10, 1857 ("Before night a sudden shower with some thunder and lightning; the first.”); May 11, 1854 (“It is surprising what an electrifying effect this shower appears to have had. It is like the christening of the summer. I suspect that summer weather may be always ushered in in a similar manner, — thunder-shower, rainbow, smooth water, and warm night”); May 12, 1858 (“I see now, as I go forth on the river, the first summer shower coming up in the northwest, a dark and well defined cloud with rain falling sheaf-like from it, . . .The thunder-cloud is like the ovary of a perfect flower. Other showers are merely staminiferous or barren. There are twenty barren to one fertile. It is not commonly till thus late in the season that the fertile are seen. In the thunder-cloud, so distinct and condensed, there is a positive energy, and I notice the first as the bursting of the pollen-cells in the flower of the sky.”)

Several parti-colored warblers or finch creepers (Sylvia Americana) a small blue and yellow bird quite tame about the buds of the firs now showing red; often head downward. Heard no note. See May 9, 1858 ("The parti-colored warbler . . .— my tweezer-bird, – making the screep screep screep note. It is an almost incessant singer . . . utters its humble notes, like ah twze twze twze, or ah twze twze twze twze."). See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the parti-colored warbler (Sylvia Americana)

The parti-colored warbler — my tweezer-bird. See May 18, 1856 ("A Sylvia Americana, — parti-colored warbler, — in the Holden Wood, sings a, tshrea tshrea tshrea, tshre’ tshritty tshrit’." and note to May 13, 1856 ("The tweezer-bird or Sylvia Americana. . . . the parti-colored warbler, and was that switter switter switter switter swit also by it?.”) See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Parti-Colored (Parula) Warbler (Sylvia Americana)

As I watched the various craft successively unfurling their sails and getting to sea, I felt more than for many years inclined to let the wind blow me also to other climes. See December 25, 1853 ("When I go to Boston, I go naturally straight through the city down to the end of Long Wharf and look off")

That early narrow curved-winged insect on ice and river which I thought an ephemera he says is a Sialis, or maybe rather a Perla. See March 22, 1856 ("On water standing above the ice under a white maple, are many of those Perla (?) insects, with four wings, drowned, though it is all ice and snow around the country over. Do not see any flying, nor before this"); March 24, 1857 ("I see many of those narrow four-winged insects (perla?) of the ice now fluttering on the water like ephemerae. They have two pairs of wings indistinctly spotted dark and light."); March 17, 1858 ("As usual, I have seen for some weeks on the ice these peculiar (perla?) insects with long wings and two tails."); March 7, 1859 ("I also see — but their appearance is a regular early spring, or late winter, phenomenon — a great many of those slender black-bodied insects from one quarter to (with the feelers) one inch long, with six legs and long gray wings, two feelers before, and two forks or tails like feelers for convenience Perla."); March 3, 1860 ("I see one of those gray-winged (long and slender) perla-like insects by the waterside this afternoon.")

Says the shad-flies (with streamers and erect wings ) are ephemeræ. See June 2, 1854 "The whole atmosphere over the river was full of shad-flies.") . . .It was a great flight of ephemera"); June 9, 1854 (" The air is now full of shad-flies, and there is an incessant sound made by the fishes leaping for their evening meal.”); June 8, 1856 (“My boat being by chance at the same place where it was in ’54, I noticed a great flight of ephemera”); June 9, 1856 ("Again, about seven, the ephemera came out, in numbers as many as last night, ... and the fishes leap as before.")

The first Viola pedata and also, in a low place, the first Viola cucullata. That I observed the first of May was a V. ovata, a variety of sagittate. . . See May 20, 1852 The Viola ovata is of a deep purple blue, is darkest and has most of the red in it; the V. pedata is smooth and pale-blue, delicately tinged with purple reflections; the cucullata is more decidedly blue, slaty-blue, and darkly striated.”). See also A Book of the Seasons,by Henry Thoreau,The Violets

The tapping of a woodpecker sounds distinct and hollow this still cloudy day.  See March 11, 1859 (“But methinks the sound of the woodpecker tapping is as much a spring note as any these mornings; it echoes peculiarly in the air of a spring morning.”); April 27, 1856 ("The tapping of a woodpecker is made a more remarkable and emphatic sound by the hollowness of the trunk, the expanse of water which conducts the sound, and the morning hour at which I commonly hear it.”); April 14, 1856 ("Hear the flicker’s cackle on the old aspen, and his tapping sounds afar over the water. Their tapping resounds thus far, with this peculiar ring and distinctness, because it is a hollow tree they select to play on, as a drum or tambour. It is a hollow sound which rings distinct to a great distance, especially over water."); March 13, 1855 ("I hear the rapid tapping of the woodpecker from over the water."); March 30, 1854 ("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."); March 15, 1854 ("I hear that peculiar, interesting loud hollow tapping of a woodpecker from over the water.")' March 18, 1853 ("The tapping of the woodpecker about this time.”). See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Pigeon Woodpecker (flicker)

Hear, methinks, a white throated sparrow (?) sing. See April 25, 1855 ("Hear a faint cheep and at length detect the white throated sparrow, the handsome and well-marked bird . . . with a yellow spot on each side of the front, . . . I first saw the white-throated sparrow at this date last year. “); see also A Book of the Seasons, the White-throated Sparrow

The pump-like note of a stake-driver from the fenny place across the Lee meadow. See May 9, 1857 ("Hear stake-driver"), See also April 24, 1854 (" As I stand still listening . . . I hear the loud and distinct pump-a-gor of a stake-driver. Thus he announces himself.”). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, American Bittern (the Stake-Diver)

That slumbrous snoring croak far less ringing and musical than the toad's now comes up from the meadows edge. See May 8. 1857 ("The full moon rises, and I paddle by its light, It is an evening for the soft-snoring, purring frogs (which I suspect to be Rana palustris).. . . Their croak is very fine or rapid, and has a soft, purring sound at a little distance") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,The   Pickerel frog  (Rana palustris orLithobates palustris)

I count noses of twenty frogs. . . . See March 27, 1853 (Half an hour standing perfectly still to hear the frogs croak.)

Maryland yellow-throat. See May 9, 1853 ("New days, then, have come, ushered in by the warbling vireo, yellowbird, Maryland yellow-throat, and small pewee")

Cattle going up country for ten days past. You must keep your gate shut. See April 30, 1860 ("Cattle begin to go up-country, and every weekday, especially Mondays, to this time [sic] May 7th, at least, the greatest droves to-day. Methinks they will find slender picking up there for a while."). See also May 6, 1855 ("Road full of cattle going up country.”); May 7, 1856 ("For a week the road has been full of cattle going up country. "); May 8, 1854 ("I hear the voices of farmers driving their cows past to their up-country pastures now."); May 10, 1852 ("This Monday the streets are full of cattle being driven up-country, — cows and calves and colts.")

May 9, 2015

 

May 8 < <<<<<  May 9. >>>>> May 10

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 

 

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,, I love you like I love the sky

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, May 9

"A book, each page written in its own season,

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2022