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, ch[=e]-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_ (v[vi]r´-[=e]-[=o]]): 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_ (t[)a]n´-a-j[~e]r): 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
“ph[oe]be” 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.