Whenthepondswerefirmlyfrozen,theyaffordednotonlynewandshorterroutestomanypoints,butnewviewsfromtheirsurfacesofthefamiliarlandscapearoundthem.WhenIcrossedFlint’sPond,afteritwascoveredwithsnow,thoughIhadoftenpaddledaboutandskatedoverit,itwassounexpectedlywideandsostrangethatIcouldthinkofnothingbutBaffin’sBay.TheLincolnhillsroseuparoundmeattheextremityofasnowyplain,inwhichIdidnotremembertohavestoodbeforeandthefishermen,atanindeterminabledistanceovertheice,movingslowlyaboutwiththeirwolfishdogs,passedforsealersorEsquimaux,orinmistyweatherloomedlikefabulouscreatures,andIdidnotknowwhethertheyweregiantsorpygmies.ItookthiscoursewhenIwenttolectureinLincolnintheevening,travellinginnoroadandpassingnohousebetweenmyownhutandthelectureroom.InGoosePond,whichlayinmyway,acolonyofmuskratsdwelt,andraisedtheircabinshighabovetheice,thoughnonecouldbeseenabroadwhenIcrossedit.Walden,beingliketherestusuallybareofsnow,orwithonlyshallowandinterrupteddriftsonit,wasmyyard,whereIcouldwalkfreelywhenthesnowwasnearlytwofeetdeeponalevelelsewhereandthevillagerswereconfinedtotheirstreets.There,farfromthevillagestreet,andexceptatverylongintervals,fromthejingleofsleigh-bells,Islidandskated,asinavastmoose-yardwelltrodden,overhungbyoakwoodsandsolemnpinesbentdownwithsnoworbristlingwithicicles.
Forsoundsinwinternights,andofteninwinterdays,Iheardtheforlornbutmelodiousnoteofahootingowlindefinitelyfarsuchasoundasthefrozenearthwouldyieldifstruckwithasuitableplectrum,theverylinguavernaculaofWaldenWood,andquitefamiliartomeatlast,thoughIneversawthebirdwhileitwasmakingit.IseldomopenedmydoorinawintereveningwithouthearingitHoohoohoo,hoorer,hoo,soundedsonorously,andthefirstthreesyllablesaccentedsomewhatlikehowderdoorsometimeshoohooonly.Onenightinthebeginningofwinter,beforethepondfrozeover,