Former Inhabitants and Winter Visitors

hsuchreminiscencesIrepeopledthewoodsandlulledmyselfasleep. AtthisseasonIseldomhadavisitor.Whenthesnowlaydeepestnowandererventurednearmyhouseforaweekorfortnightatatime,butthereIlivedassnugasameadowmouse,orascattleandpoultrywhicharesaidtohavesurvivedforalongtimeburiedindrifts,evenwithoutfoodorlikethatearlysettler’sfamilyinthetownofSutton,inthisstate,whosecottagewascompletelycoveredbythegreatsnowof1717whenhewasabsent,andanIndianfounditonlybytheholewhichthechimney’sbreathmadeinthedrift,andsorelievedthefamily.ButnofriendlyIndianconcernedhimselfaboutmenorneededhe,forthemasterofthehousewasathome.TheGreatSnow!Howcheerfulitistohearof!Whenthefarmerscouldnotgettothewoodsandswampswiththeirteams,andwereobligedtocutdowntheshadetreesbeforetheirhouses,andwhenthecrustwasharder,cutoffthetreesintheswamps,tenfeetfromtheground,asitappearedthenextspring. Inthedeepestsnows,thepathwhichIusedfromthehighwaytomyhouse,abouthalfamilelong,mighthavebeenrepresentedbyameanderingdottedline,withwideintervalsbetweenthedots.ForaweekofevenweatherItookexactlythesamenumberofsteps,andofthesamelength,comingandgoing,steppingdeliberatelyandwiththeprecisionofapairofdividersinmyowndeeptracks,—tosuchroutinethewinterreducesus,—yetoftentheywerefilledwithheaven’sownblue.Butnoweatherinterferedfatallywithmywalks,orrathermygoingabroad,forIfrequentlytrampedeightortenmilesthroughthedeepestsnowtokeepanappointmentwithabeech-tree,orayellow-birch,oranoldacquaintanceamongthepineswhentheiceandsnowcausingtheirlimbstodroop,andsosharpeningtheirtops,hadchangedthepinesintofir-treeswadingtothetopsofthehighesthillswhenthesnowwasnearlytwofeetdeeponalevel,andshakingdownanothersnow-stormonmyheadateverysteporsometimescreepingandflounderingthitheronmyhandsandknees,whenthehuntershadgoneintowinterquarters.OneafternoonIamusedmyselfbywatchingabarredowl(Strixnebulosa)sittingononeofthelowerdeadlimbsofawhite-pine,closetothetrunk,inbroaddaylight,Istandingwithinarodofhim.HecouldhearmewhenImovedandcronchedthesnowwithmyfeet,butcouldnotplainlyseeme.WhenImademostnoisehewouldstretchouthisneck,anderecthisneckfeathers,andopenhiseyeswidebuttheirlidssoonfellagain,andhebegantonod.Itoofeltaslumberousinfluenceafterwatchinghimhalfanhour,ashesatthuswithhiseyeshalfopen,likeacat,wingedbrotherofthecat.Therewasonlyanarrowslitleftbetweentheirlids,bywhichhepreservedapeninsularrelationtomethus,withhalf-shuteyes,lookingoutfromthelandofdreams,andendeavoringtorealizeme,vagueobjectormotethatinterruptedhisvisions.Atlength,onsomeloudernoiseormynearerapproach,hewouldgrowuneasyandsluggishlyturnaboutonhisperch,asifimpatientathavinghisdreamsdisturbedandwhenhelaunchedhimselfoffandflappedthroughthepines,spreadinghiswingstounexpectedbreadth,Icouldnotheartheslightestsoundfromthem.Thus,guidedamidthepineboughsratherbyadelicatesenseoftheirneighborhoodthanbysight,feelinghistwilightwayasitwerewithhissensitivepinions,hefoundanewperch,wherehemightinpeaceawaitthedawningofhisday. AsIwalkedoverthelongcausewaymadefortherailroadthroughthemeadows,Iencounteredmanyablusteringandnippingwind,fornowherehasitfreerplayandwhenthefrosthadsmittenmeononecheek,heathenasIwas,Iturnedtoittheotheralso.NorwasitmuchbetterbythecarriageroadfromBrister’sHill.ForIcametotownstill,likeafriendlyIndian,whenthecontentsofthebroadopenfieldswereallpiledupbetweenthewallsoftheWaldenroad,andhalfanhoursufficedtoobliteratethetracksofthelasttraveller.AndwhenIreturnednewdriftswouldhaveformed,throughwhichIfloundered,wherethebusynorth-westwindhadbeendepositingthepowderysnowroundasharpangleintheroad,andnotarabbit’strack,noreventhefineprint,thesmalltype,ofameadowmousewastobeseen.YetIrarelyfailedtofind,eveninmid-winter,somewarmandspringlyswampwherethegrassandtheskunk-cabbagestillputforthwithperennialverdure,andsomehardierbirdoccasionallyawaitedthereturnofspring. Sometimes,notwithstandingthesnow,whenIreturnedfrommywalkateveningIcrossedthedeeptracksofawoodchopperleadingfrommydoor,andfoundhispileofwhittlingsonthehearth,andmyhousefilledwiththeodorofhispipe.OronaSundayafternoon,ifIchancedtobeathome,Iheardthecronchingofthesnowmadebythestepofalong-headedfarmer,whofromfarthroughthewoodssoughtmyhouse,tohaveasocial“crack”oneofthefewofhisvocationwhoare“menontheirfarms”whodonnedafrockinsteadofaprofessor’sgown,andisasreadytoextractthemoraloutofchurchorsta