It
has been a hard winter in Washington, yet spring impends. Thus it is time to re-read
Spring in Washington. In the spring of 1945, in the waning months of World War II
and the presidency of FDR, the young Louis Halle awoke early every day to ride
his bicycle along the Potomac, somehow managing to pull himself away in time to
keep his day job at the State Department. His impressions of spring are well worth reading whether you have ever
been in Washington or not.
Born in New York City, he graduated
from Harvard. From 1941 to 1954 he served
in the U. S. Department of State and was a member of the policy planning staff. Spring in Washington is a small book, 201 pages to be exact, but one that has held me enthralled through countless readings. It is
mostly about birds, but there are astute observations about other wild creatures,
and more than a little musing and wondering about the nature of man
himself.
My copy is a paperback, much
handled. Some of the pages are
loose. Sentences and whole paragraphs
have been underlined at one time or another, with copious comments and
exclamations in the margins.
Let me quote firstly one of his
exclamations:
“I shout Encore! Encore! I leap to
my feet in a standing ovation. I want to sate myself with this cornucopia of
wonders. I gaze with admiration at the dazzling mathematical complexities of
minerals. I stand in true awe at the convolutions of storm clouds, the sizzling
bolt of lightning and the ominous roll of thunder. Even a sun dog turns me on.
And all of these things are inanimate, completely devoid of life. Or are they?
And I haven't spoken yet of my exaltation
of wild birds.”
Yes,
birds were what really set his heart a-flutter:
“Somewhere in the mists of time the
eagle and the warbler had a common ancestor. Now the warbler sings in the pine
woods, the eagle soars above the marshes, the ducks swim in the bay, gulls
wheel.”
If the thought ever occurred to you
that politicians are like a bunch of rowdy school children who should be
closely monitored, you will not be surprised at Halle's remark:
"If you want to know about
Politics . . . just observe a flock of crows."
He spends page after page noting which
birds appear and when, exactly, along the Potomac; somehow it is endlessly fascinating. Each time I read, I repeat with him:
"For
a few ticks of the clock I am here, uncomprehending, attempting to make some
record or memorial of this eternal passage, like a traveler in a strange
country through which he is being hurried on a schedule
not of his making and for a purpose he does not understand."
I would like to have known Louis J.
Halle. He would have been the consummate birding companion and a wise
commentator on current affairs. I do not know what impact he made upon the
State Department, but his mark on Washington endures forever. Because of him, we see that the whole Washington area, the land and water from Great Falls to Mt. Vernon, across the
broad Potomac to the Anacostia, over to Rock Creek and up the Potomac to
complete the circle, is a magical, wonderful place, full of wild
creatures.
I have seen great blue herons,
red-tailed hawks, cardinals, warblers, countless squirrels and ducks, deer (in
the tiny woods south of the National Cathedral) and, on two occasions,
eagles. One flew past my eighth-floor
window to hover above Wisconsin Avenue; another swooped in front of me to perch
in a tree across from the Bureau of Printing and Engraving. For those who wish to exercise their sense of
wonder in the city of Washington, he may be the patron saint. He deserves a monument in stone.
