The Catskills’ Natural Philosopher: John Burroughs’ Garden Legacy

April 3, 1837

On this day, naturalist, poet, and philosopher John Burroughs (books by this author) was born on a humble dairy farm. His early education took place in a local schoolhouse, where fate placed his desk adjacent to that of future Erie Railroad Robber Baron Jay Gould—the son of a neighboring family. When young Burroughs found himself adrift in academic waters, it was Gould who would come to his rescue.

Affectionately dubbed "John o' Birds" for his particular devotion to our feathered friends, Burroughs harbored a profound appreciation for all aspects of the natural world.

Imagine, dear gardeners, the distinguished company he kept! Burroughs was one of the celebrated "four vagabonds"—a reference to an annual camping expedition that included luminaries such as Harvey Firestone, Henry Ford, and Theodore Roosevelt. Ford esteemed his naturalist friend so much that he presented Burroughs with a new automobile each year.

Burroughs's literary compositions were firmly rooted in the soil he knew most intimately—the landscapes surrounding his Catskill Mountain homes in upstate New York. This cherished territory encompassed a watercourse known in his day as "The Pepacton," though modern maps identify it as the "East Branch of the Delaware River."

Burroughs enjoyed a profound friendship with Walt Whitman (Books by this author), for whom he nurtured a deep affection. Reflecting upon his relationship with the celebrated poet, Burroughs confided:

"[Meeting] Walt was the most important event of my life. I expanded under his influence, because of his fine liberality and humanity on all subjects."

Allow me to share a delightful anecdote.

It was none other than Whitman who provided Burroughs with sage marketing counsel regarding his first literary offering, "Wake Robin." Burroughs later recounted:

"It is difficult to hit upon suitable titles for books. I went to Walt with Wake-Robin and several other names written on paper. 'What does wake-robin mean?' he asked. 'It's a spring flower,' I replied. 'Then that is exactly the name you want.'"

For those unfamiliar with botanical nomenclature, wake-robin is the common trillium designation. These exquisite members of the Lily Family create a veritable carpet across the forest floor during springtime. Each plant produces a solitary, substantial white blossom of remarkable longevity that gradually transitions to pink as it matures.

During Burroughs's era, advertisements in The Tennessean and other periodicals promoted "English Wake-Robin Pills" as "The best Liver and Cathartic Pills in use," available for the princely sum of 25 cents per box.

Let us savor the opening passage from "Wake-Robin" by John Burroughs:

"Spring in our northern climate may fairly be said to extend from the middle of March to the middle of June…

It is this period that marks the return of the birds….

Each stage of the advancing season gives prominence to certain species, as to certain flowers.

The dandelion tells me when to look for the swallow, the dog-tooth violet when to expect the wood thrush, and when I have found the wake-robin in bloom I know the season is fairly inaugurated. With me this flower is associated, not merely with the awakening of Robin, for he has been awake some weeks, but with the universal awakening and rehabilitation of Nature."

The centennial commemoration of Burroughs's nativity was held at Hartwick College. The institution provided musical entertainment in the form of an a cappella choir performing Burroughs's favorite composition, Brahms's "Lullaby." Supreme Court Justice Abraham Kellogg offered this eloquent tribute:

"When the trees begin to leaf and the birds are here, the arbutus, laurel and wild flowers are blooming and nature is clothing herself with beauty and grandeur, turn ye to your library and in a restful attitude read 'Pepacton' and you will acquaint yourself as never before with John Burroughs, the scientist, the naturalist, the poet and the philosopher."

Burroughs departed this earthly garden at the venerable age of 84 years—fourteen beyond the biblical allotment for mankind. His final journey was a homeward one, returning to his beloved Catskills following abdominal surgery in California. The yearning to glimpse his cherished homeland once more consumed Burroughs's thoughts.

Accompanied by his nurse and biographer, he made the long trek eastward by rail. Following a restless attempt at slumber, he inquired: "How near home are we?" Upon learning the train was traversing Ohio, Burroughs sank back and quietly slipped into eternity.