MARCH 



II 



The ice in the pond at length begins to be honey- 

 combed, and I can set my heel in it as I walk. 

 Fogs and rains and warmer suns are gradually 

 melting the snow; the days have grown sensibly 

 longer ; and I see how I shall get through the win- 

 ter without adding to my woodpile, for large fires 

 are no longer necessary. I am on the alert for the 

 first signs of spring, to hear the chance note of 

 some arriving bird, or the striped squirrel's chirp, 

 for his stores must be now nearly exhausted, or see 

 the woodchuck venture out of his winter quarters. 



THOKEAU: Walden. 



12 



As it grew darker, I was startled by the honking 

 of geese flying low over the woods, like weary 

 travelers getting in late from southern lakes, and 

 indulging at last in unrestrained complaint and 

 mutual consolation. Standing at my door, I could 

 hear the rush of their wings ; when, driving to- 

 ward my house, they suddenly spied my light, and 

 with hushed clamor wheeled and settled in the 

 pond. So I came in, and shut the door, and 

 passed my first spring night in the woods. 



THOKEAU: Walden. 



