"Instead of calling on some scholar, I paid many a visit to particular trees, of kinds which are rare in this neighborhood, standing far away in the middle of some pasture, or in the depths of a wood or swamp, or on a hill top: such as the black-birch of which we have some handsome specimens two feet in diameter; its cousin the yellow-birch, with its loose golden vest, perfumed like the first; the beech, which has so neat a bole and beautifully lichen-painted, perfect in all its details, of which, excepting scattered specimens, I know but one small grove of sizable trees left in the township, supposed by some to have been planted by the pigeons that were once baited with beech nuts near by; it is worth the while to see the silver grain sparkle when you split this wood; the bass; the hornbeam; the _celtis occidentalis_, or false elm, of which we have but one well-grown; some taller mast of a pine, a shingle tree, or a more perfect hemlock than usual, standing like a pagoda in the midst of the woods; and many others I could mention. These were the shrines I visited both summer and winter."--Excerpt from _Walden_, HENRY D. THOREAU.
"He saw with a clear and kindred eye, he understood with his heart, the life of field and wood and water about him. The open sky, the solitudes of the windy hill-top, the sweep of the storm, the spacious changes of dark and dawn, these, it seems to me, spoke to him more clearly than to others."--C. G. D. ROBERTS, in Introduction to _Walden_.
In most of the talks we listen to on Bird and Arbor Day, in most of the poems and prose selections we recite or read to celebrate this occasion, we hear about the awakening of spring, when birds return and trees and early plants blossom, and insects and hibernating animals emerge from a winter's sleep. All Nature is pictured as rousing from the lethargy of cold December and colder January and February, under the influence of the sun, now early with its morning greeting, and of soft breezes which begin to take the place of chilling gales. But what part has man in all of this glad festival of activity and growth! Does he awaken too, and take his part in the general re-creation of Nature?
No, man is glad when spring comes, he welcomes birds and flowers and budding trees, but he has learned to build shelters for himself against storms, to fight the uneven cold with steady fire, and to raise and store food to nourish his body throughout the season when the ground is frozen and vegetation dead. He does not come to life and activity again with the changing seasons, and, much as he may enjoy spring with its multiform beauties, he seldom rouses out of the routine of his ordinary life, except now and then, perhaps, for a fitful instant. Well-fed, well-clothed and well-housed, he still fears the elements and dreads exposure and hunger. He is not a part of nature, but the ambitious master of nature. Only now and then does a man partly awaken from his civilized life and turn to Nature as to a mother. But when he does, when his eyes are fairly open, when his hand can write or his lips speak the truth, what a revelation comes not only to him but to those who understand his message!