that we get a little of the peculiar still lake view at evening when the wind goes down. Two red squirrels made an ado about or above me near the North River, hastily running from tree to tree, leaping from the extremity of one bough to that of another on the next tree, until they gained and ascended a large white pine. I approached and stood under this, while they made a great fuss about me. One at length came part way down to reconnoitre me. It seemed that one did the barking, a faint, short, chippy bark, like that of a toy dog, its tail vibrating each time, while its neck was stretched over a bough as it peered at me. The other, higher up, kept up a sort of gurgling whistle, more like a bird than a beast. When I made a noise, they would stop a moment.
Scared up a partridge which had crawled into a pile of wood. Saw a gray hare, a dirty yellowish gray, not trig and neat, but, as usual, apparently in dishabille. As it frequently does, it ran a little way and stopped just at the entrance to its retreat, then, when I moved again, suddenly disappeared. By a slight obscure hole in the snow it had access to a large and apparently deep woodchucks' hole.
March 6, 1854. The water here and there on the meadow begins to appear smooth and I look to see it rippled by a musk-rat. The earth
