Thoreau writes in his journal:
P.M.—Up river in boat.
The first boats I have seen are out to-day, after muskrats, etc. Saw one this morning breaking its way far through the meadow, in the ice that had formed in the night. How independent they look who have come forth for a day’s excursion! . . . At the Hubbard Bridge, we hear the incessant note of the phoebe,—pevet, pe-e-vet, pevee’,—its innocent, somewhat impatient call . . .