Thoreau writes in his journal:
Jacob Farmer gave me to-day the foot of an otter, also of a fisher,—to put with my pine marten’s foot. He cut them off of recent furs in Boston. He sells about a hundred mink skins in a year. Thinks not more than thirty or forty are caught in Concord in a year. He says (I think) a mink’s skin is worth two dollars! They are sent to Europe to be worn there, not for hats.
Now, at 9 P.M., a clear sky. And so the storm which began evening of 13th ends.
Mr. Rice tells me that when he was getting mud out of the little swamp at the foot of Brister’s Hill last [a blank space left for the day], he heard a squeaking and found that he was digging near the nest of what he called a “field mouse” . . .
