CHAPTER I
TO THE TEACHER
Go yourself frequently into the fields and woods, or into the city parks, or along the water front—anywhere so that you can touch nature directly, and look and listen for yourselves. Don’t try to teach what you do not know, and there is nothing in this book that you cannot know, for the lesson to be taught in each chapter is a spiritual lesson, not a number of bare facts. This spiritual lesson you must first learn before you can teach it—must feel, I should say; and a single thoughtful excursion alone into the autumn fields will give you possession of it. And what is the lesson in this chapter? Just this: that the strong growths of summer, the ripening of seeds and fruits, the languid lazy spirit, and the pensive signs of coming autumn are all the manifold preparations of nature for a fresh outburst of life with the coming of spring.
FOR THE PUPIL
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The clock of the year strikes one: When, in the daytime, the clock strikes one, the hour of noon is past; the afternoon begins. On the 21st of June the clock of the year strikes twelve—noon! By late July the clock strikes one—the noon hour is past! Summer is gone; autumn—the afternoon of the year—begins.
going “creepy-creep”: In the quiet of some July day in fields or woods, listen to the stirring of the insects and other small wood creatures. All summer long they are going about their business, but in the midst of stronger noises we are almost deaf to their world of little sounds.
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begins to shift: Why is the oak’s shadow likely to be “round” at noon? What causes the shadow to “shift”; or move? In which direction would it move?
falls a yellow leaf from a slender birch near by ... small flock of robins from a pine ... swallows were gathering upon the telegraph wires: Next summer, note the exact date on which you first see signs of autumn—the first falling of the leaves, the first gathering of birds for their southern trip. Most of the migrating birds go in flocks for the sake of companionship and protection.
chewink (named from his call, chē-wink´; accent on second, not on first, syllable, as in some dictionaries) or ground robin, or towhee or joree; one of the finch family. You will know him by his saying “chewink” and by his vigorous scratching among the dead leaves, and by his red-brown body and black head and neck.
vireo (vīr´-ē-ō): the red-eyed vireo, the commonest of the vireo family; often called “Preacher”; builds the little hanging nest from a small fork on a bush or tree so low often that you can look into it.
fiery notes of the scarlet tanager (tăn´-a-jẽr): His notes are loud and strong, and he is dressed in fiery red clothes and sings on the fieriest of July days.
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resonant song of the indigo bunting: or indigo-bird, one of the finch family. He sings from the very tip of a tree as if to get up close under the dome of the sky. Indeed, his notes seem to strike against it and ring down to us; for there is a peculiar ringing quality to them, as if he were singing to you from inside a great copper kettle.
scarlet tanager by some accident: The tanager arrives among the last of the birds in the spring, and builds late; but, if you find a nest in July or August, it is pretty certain to be a second nest, the first having been destroyed somehow—a too frequent occurrence with all birds.
half-fledged cuckoos: The cuckoo also is a very late builder. I have more than once found its eggs in July.
red wood-lily: Do you know the wood-lily, or the “wild orange-red lily” as some call it (Lilium philadelphicum)? It is found from New England to North Carolina and west to Missouri, but only on hot, dry, sandy ground, whereas the turk’s-cap and the wild yellow lily are found only where the ground is rich and moist.
low mouldy moss: Bring to school a flake, as large as your hand, of the kind of lichen you think this may be. Some call it “reindeer moss.”
sweet-fern: Put a handful of sweet-fern (Myrica asplenifolia) in your pocket, a leaf or two in your book; and whenever you pass it in the fields, pull it through your fingers for the odor. Sweet gale and bayberry are its two sweet relatives.
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milkweed, boneset, peppermint, turtle-head, joe-pye-weed, jewel-weed, smartweed, and budding goldenrod: Go down to the nearest meadow stream and gather for school as many of these flowers as you can find. Examine their seeds.
wind is a sower going forth to sow: Besides the winds what other seed-scatterers do you know? They are many and very interesting.
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“Over the fields where the daisies grow....”
From “Thistledown” in a volume of poems called “Summer-Fallow,” by Charles Buxton Going.
seed-souls of thistles and daisies and fall dandelions seeking new bodies for themselves in the warm soil of Mother Earth: On your country walks, watch to see where such seeds have been caught, or have fallen. They will be washed down into the earth by rain and snow. If you can mark the place, go again next spring to see for yourself if they have risen in “new bodies” from the earth.
sweet pepper-bush: The sweet pepper-bush is also called white alder and clethra.
chickadees: Stand stock-still upon meeting a flock of chickadees and see how curious they become to know you. You may know the chickadee by its tiny size, its gray coat, black cap and throat, its saying “chick-a-dee,” and its plaintive call of “phœbe” in three distinct syllables.
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clock strikes twelve: As we have thought of midsummer as the hour from twelve to one in the day, so the dead of winter seems by comparison the twelve o’clock of midnight.
shimmering of the spiders’ silky balloons: It is the curious habit of many of the spiders to travel, especially in the fall, by throwing skeins of silky web into the air, which the breezes catch and carry up, while the spiders, like balloonists, hang in their web ropes below and sail away.