This chapter opens with a caution. Thoreau warns that when people rely exclusively on learning from books, “we are in danger of forgetting the language which all things and events speak without metaphor, which alone is copious and standard.” He goes on to explain that people learn a great deal simply by remaining aware and attuned to their environment. 

Thoreau goes on to say that during his first summer at Walden Pond, he learned as much from the simple acts of harvesting beans and observing nature as he did from reading. He extols the importance of mindfully living in the moment, citing the practices of Confucianist Chinese sages and Puri Indians who use a single word for “yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow” (193). For Thoreau, the tranquility of in-the-moment living is embodied by the sparrows and their chirping sounds.

At this point, Thoreau’s narration is interrupted by the contrastively harsh sound of the Fitchburg Railroad. Thoreau aligns this sound with the “restless city merchants” (198) coming to buy and sell the luxuries he condemns. For Thoreau, these trains signify excessive commerce—the threat of human greed and encroachment upon nature’s quiet. 

For Thoreau, the owls’ late-evening cries embody the souls of men mourning their lost humanity “I rejoice that there are owls,” muses Thoreau.