Thoreau writes in his journal:
Sunday. A rather cold and windy afternoon with some snow not yet melted on the ground. Under the south side of the hill, between Brown’s and Tarbell’s, in a warm nook, disturbed three large squirrels and some partridges, who had all sought out this bare and warm spot. While the squirrels hid themselves in the tree-tops, I sat on an oak stump by an old cellar-hole and mused . . .
