Walden

As snowstorms rage outside Thoreau’s house, he sits by the fire and contemplates those who survived winters before him. Namely, he reflects on the lives of Concord’s Black residents, including a slave named Cato Ingraham; a strong, independent woman named Zilpha; a handy-man named Brister Freeman who lived with his wife, Fenda; a family called the Strattens; and another called the Breeds. Most of their homes have been lost to fire, both literal and figurative. When the Breeds’ home was set on fire by youths, it was so far gone by the time the fire brigade reached it that they simply stood around and watched it burn. 

Thoreau also recalls a potter named Wyman who squatted in the woods, as well as a local Irishman named Hugh Quoll who used to be a soldier. Thoreau now lives among the empty spaces where their dwellings once stood: the grown-over holes of former homes. Rather than bemoan these losses to time and memory, Thoreau proclaims, “Alas! how little does the memory of these human inhabitants enhance the beauty of the landscape!” (449). He lauds his own home for standing upon ground that has never before been built upon. 

Aside from the barred owl who watches Thoreau as though looking “out from the land of dreams” (452), he has few winter visitors. He is occasionally joined by his friends: the poet William Ellery Channing, the philosopher Amos Bronson Alcott, and his mentor Ralph Waldo Emerson (though none of these men are identified by name). He also keeps watch for the “Visitor who never comes” (459), quoting the Vishnu Purana: “The house-holder is to remain at eventide in his court-yard as long as it takes to milk a cow, or longer if he pleases, to await the arrival of a guest” (459).

Thoreau continues to find inspiration in his walks over the frozen ponds, gaining “new views from their surfaces of the familiar landscape around them” (460). He hears the calling of geese and owls, which sounds like voices exclaiming “how der do?” or, occasionally, “boo-hoo!” (462). He scatters corn and potato parings to feed squirrels and rabbits. The animals who eat this food leave their refuse scattered about, which attracts sparrows and chickadees. Thoreau also hears hounds in pursuit and occasionally converses with local huntsman. 

Thoreau spends hours peacefully watching the winter animals. He measures his diurnal movements by the appearances of certain animals, including the morning scavenging of red squirrels, the hopping of rabbits at dusk, and the nighttime hunts of foxes. He also measures his days by the cracking sounds of ice. 

Thoreau closes this chapter with reflections on the hardiness of hares and partridges:

The partridge and the rabbit are still sure to thrive, like true natives of the soil, whatever revolutions occur. If the forest is cut off, the sprouts and bushes which spring up afford them concealment, and they become more numerous than ever (477-78).

With these reflections, Thoreau continues to develop his own interest in regrowth and rebirth from the barest environments, using the simplest available means.