19 January 1857 – 25 January 1857

A snow-storm with very high wind all last night and to-day. Though not much snow falls (per- haps seven or eight inches), it is exceedingly drifted, so that the first train gets down about noon and none gets up till about 6 p. m.! There is no vehicle passing the house before 2 p. m.! A fine dry snow, intolerable to face.

‘There probably is not more than twelve to fifteen inches of snow on a level, yet the drifts are very large. Neither milkman nor butcher got here yesterday, and to-day the milkman came with oxen, partly through the fields. ‘Though the snow is nowhere deep in the middle of the main street, the drifts are very large, espe- cially on the north side, so that, as you look down the street, it appears as uneven as a rolling prairie. Heard, in the Dennis swamp by the railroad this afternoon, the peculiar goldfinch-like mew — also like some canaries — of, I think, the lesser redpoll (?). Saw several. Heard the same a week or more ago. I hear that Boston Harbor froze over on the 18th, down to Fort Independence. The river has been frozen everywhere except at the very few swiftest places since about December 18th, and everywhere since about January Ist. At R. W. E.’s this evening, at about 6 p. M., I was called out to see Eddy’s cave in the snow. It was a hole about two and a half feet wide and six feet long, into a drift, a little winding, and he had got a lamp at the inner extremity. I observed, as I approached in a course at right angles with the length of the cave, that the mouth ° of the cave was lit as if the light were close to it, so that I did not suspect its depth. Indeed, the light of this lamp was remarkably reflected and distributed. The snowy walls were one universal reflector with countless facets. I think that one lamp would light sufficiently a hall built of this material. The snow about the mouth of the cave within had the yellow color of the flame to one approaching, as if the lamp were close to it. We afterward buried the lamp in a little crypt in this snow- drift and walled it in, and found that its light was visible, even in this twilight, through fifteen inches’ thickness of snow. The snow was all aglow with it. If it had been darker, probably it would have been visible through a much greater thickness. But, what was most surpris- ing to me, when Eddy crawled into the extremity of his cave and shouted at the top of his voice, it sounded ridiculously faint, as if he were a quarter of a mile off, and at first I could not believe that he spoke loud, but we all of us crawled in by turns, and though our heads were only six feet from those outside, our loudest shout- ing only amused and surprised them. Apparently the porous snow drank up all the sound. The voice was, in fact, muffled by the surrounding snow walls, and I saw that we might lie in that hole screaming for assist- ance in vain, while travellers were passing along twenty feet distant. It had the effect of ventriloquism. So you only need make a snow house in your yard and pass an hour in it, to realize a good deal of Esquimau life.

P. M. — Up river to W. Wheeler’s Bridge and back by road. ; The roads are perhaps more blocked up than last winter, yet with hardly more than half as much snow. The river is now so concealed that a common eye would not suspect its existence. It is drifted on it exactly as on the meadow, 7. e. successive low drifts with a bluff head toward the wind. It is remarkable how many tracks of foxes you will see quite near the village, where they have been in the night, and yet a regular walker will not glimpse one oftener than once in eight or ten years. The overflow, under the snow, is generally at the bends, where the river is narrower and swifter. I noticed that several species of birds lingered late this year. The F. hyemalis, and then there was that woodcock, and song sparrow! What does it mean? As I flounder along the Corner road against the root fence, a very large flock of snow buntings alight with .& wheeling flight amid the weeds rising above the snow in Potter’s heater piece, —a hundred or two of them. They run restlessly amid the weeds, so that I can hardly get sight of them through my glass; then suddenly all arise and fly only two or three rods, alighting within three rods of me. (They keep up a constant twittering. ) It was as if they were any instant ready for a longer flight, but their leader had not so ordered it. Suddenly away they sweep again, and I see them alight in a dis- tant field where the weeds rise above the snow, but in a few minutes they have left that also and gone further north. Beside their rippling note, they have a vibratory twitter, and from the loiterers you hear quite a tender peep, as they fly after the vanishing flock. What independent creatures! They go seeking their food from north to south. If New Hampshire and Maine are covered deeply with snow, they scale down to Massachusetts for their breakfasts. Not liking the grain in this field, away they dash to another distant one, attracted by the weeds rising above the snow. Who can guess in what field, by what mver or mountain they breakfasted this morning. They did not seem to regard me so near, but as they went off, their wave actually broke over me as a rock. They have the plea- sure of society at their feasts, a hundred dining at once, busily talking while eating, remembering what occurred at Grinnell Land. As they flew past me they presented a pretty appearance, somewhat like broad bars of white alternating with bars of black.

Snows all day, clearing up at night, —a remarkably fine and dry snow, which, looking out, you might suspect to be blowing snow merely. Yet thus it snows all day, driving almost horizontally, but it pos not amount to much. P. M. — To Walden. I never knew it to make such a business of snowing and bring so little to pass. The air is filled, so that you cannot see far against it, 7. e. looking north-north- west, yet but an inch or two falls all day. There is some drifting, however. You wonder how the tree sparrows can seek their food on the railroad causeway, flying in the face of such a fine, cold, driving snow-storm. Within the woods it is comparatively still. In the woods by Abel Brooks’s rye hollow I hear a faint note, and see undoubtedly a brown creeper inspecting the branches of the oaks. It has white and black bars on the head, uttering from time to time a fine, wiry, screeping tse, tse, or tse, tse, tse. 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. When it did not help itself he used to feed it with meal, for he was glad of its company; so, what with the dashing water and the crumbs of meal, it must have fared well. I asked M. about the Cold Friday. He said, “It was plaguy cold; it stung like a wasp.” He remembers seeing them toss up water in a shoemaker’s shop, usu- ally a very warm place, and when it struck the floor it was frozen and rattled like so many shot. Old John Nutting used to say, “ When it is cold it is a sign it’s going to be warm,” and “When it’s warm it’s a sign it’s going to be cold.”

The coldest day that I remember recording, clear and bright, but very high wind, blowing the snow. Ink froze. Had to break the ice in my pail with a ham- mer. ‘Thermometer at 6.45.4. M., — 18°; at 10.30, — 14° (Smith’s, — 20°; Wilds’, —7°, the last being in a more sheltered place); at 12.45, —9°; at 4 p. m., —54°; at 7.30 Pp. M., —8°. I may safely say that — 5° has been the highest temperature to-day by our thermometer. Walking this afternoon, I notice that the face inclines to stiffen, and the hands and feet get cold soon. On first coming out in very cold weather, I find that I breathe fast, though without walking faster or exerting myself any more than usual.

Still another very cold morning. Smith’s thermometer over ours at —29°, ours in bulb; but about seven, ours was at —18° and Smith’s at — 24; ours therefore at first about — 23°. P. M. — To Bittern Rock on river. The road beyond Hubbard’s Bridge has been closed by snow for two or three weeks; only the walls show that there has been a road there. Travellers take to the fields.