May 15. A Thoreau shrine, bountiful blooms & creature encounters - To Beeches at Thoreau Institute

May 15, 1856. P.M. To beeches.

At Heywood Spring I see a clumsy woodchuck, now, at 4 P. M., out feeding, gray or grizzly above, brown beneath. It runs, or waddles, to its hole two or three rods off, and as usual pauses, listening, at its entrance till I start again, then dives in.

Viola cucullata [blue marsh violet] abundant now. ....

Strawberry well out; how long? On Amelanchier Botryapium [eastern shadbush], ... flowers, calyx and all. ....

Cleared out the Beech Spring, which is a copious one. So I have done some service, though it was a wet and muddy job. Cleared out a spring while you have been to the wars. Now that warmer days make the traveller thirsty, this becomes an important work. This spring was filled and covered with a great mass of beech leaves, amid and beneath which, damp and wet as they were, were myriads of snow-fleas and also their white exuviae; the latter often whitening a whole leaf, mixed with live ones. It looks as if for coolness and moisture which the snow had afforded they were compelled to take refuge here.
 .... Perceive some of that delicious meadow fragrance coming over the railroad causeway.

-H.D.T.

At 6:15 a.m., I pull up to park at the Lincoln Pine Hill conservation land trail entrance on Sandy Hill Road (Walden Pond parking was closed at this hour). A red fox awaits me on the trailhead across the road. It pauses, watching me for some time until it elegantly trots off, retreating into the protection of the woods.

I walk up the southern shoulder of Pine Hill hearing the crowing of a rooster as I approach the Thoreau Institute grounds. I take a peek at the replica Thoreau cabin, still being built, just off the trail. I find a path leading me along the edge of the Institute’s front lawn, where I find the fresh colors and scents of bluebells, and an expanse of white lily of the valley blooms, lending sweet fragrance to the air. (To round out the photos of Thoreau's discovered blooms, I add here a photo of the white flowers of wild strawberry, found on May 16 the previous year at a different location).

Across the entrance road I find my way down a trail across a field adorned with pink and white flowering dogwoods amid yellow bulbous buttercups rising from the lush grass. The setting is that of an estate garden going wild, with created features like an elegant pond and stone path through overgrown rhododendrons and hydrangea shrubs far taller than me. I am able to get very close to a mink frog, with head out of the water and bulbous eyes glued to me, legs fully splayed in the water. I’m so surprised that it doesn't swim away, as most frogs and other creatures dive for cover or go silent at my slightest approaching step.

I find what can only be Thoreau’s Beeches Spring; it’s like a preserved shrine - albeit neglected and full of algae without Thoreau to clear it out - to Thoreau’s described place of 1856. A stalwart beech, dead but retaining its smooth bark on a quarter mast of a hollow trunk with no upper limbs, sits at the head of the spring. I measure the circumference of the tree to be 104 inches, and using an online tree age calculator, assuming the tree is about 90 inches around at four and a half feet up, I find the tree could be about 172 years old (if it were still alive, meaning it is likely even older). This would mean the tree was likely here, albeit small, on Thoreau’s visit this day 165 years ago. In Thoreau’s honor, I scoop out some of the beech leaves as he did to clean the springs' basin. Purple blooms of marsh violet (as Thoreau saw) adorn this wild garden spring, along with skunk cabbage, jack in the pulpit, Pennsylvania bittercress, hostas and unfurling cinnamon ferns.

I follow the stepping stone path on the perimeter of the pond trail passing through a resplendent six foot high row of rhododendrons. I take in a view of the pond through the shrub’s adorned flower view. At the water’s edge are a clump of yellow and white two-toned poet’s narcissus (a type of daffodil). Oddly, I find a small sign indicating that this pond trail is private and not for public access - even though this land is owned by Walden Woods Project, a non-profit with the goal of land conservation in the ethos and legacy of Thoreau. I retreat in my steps.

A stand of beech trees, two about 3/4 as thick as the tall stump at the spring, lies just east, next to an open gate. Leaves are four inches long. The roots of the largest tree penetrate as if thick fingers of a hand digging into and grasping the land. The beeches spread all the way up the valley, through which water travels downward through skunk cabbage wetlands to feed the pond. I hear the soft purring of frogs from the pond as I depart.

About 250 yards north of the spring, I hear a soft sound similar to the braying of a sheep. I’ve been concentrating on the buzzing path of a bumble bee in the leaves, but turn my attention turns now to something that could be much more significant. Curious and cautious to avoid scaring any creature away, I approach slowly. A large bird flies up from the direction of the sound and alights on a beech tree limb. It’s mottled brown with white - in a barred pattern with feathers very fluffed up as if a dirty mop. A barred owl! I can see its prominent brow now and beak as it has turned almost 180 degrees to look right at me. My view is excellent through my binoculars. I watch for about five minutes as it preens its feathers. Its legs are feathered above with long sharp talons below. The braying continues to my right, eventually fading. Is it a baby owl, something else unrelated? As abruptly as it appeared, the owl flies off to the west up the hill. Unbelievable. I feel so lucky.