There is little now to be heard along the river

November 27

P. M. — By river to J. Farmer’s.

I told him I saw a mink. He said he would have given me $1.50 and perhaps something more for him. I hear that he gives $1.75, and sells them again at a profit. They are used to trim ladies’ coats with, among other things. 

A mink skin which he showed me was a darker brown than the one I saw last (he says they changed suddenly to darker about a fortnight since); and the tail was nearly all black.

There is little now to be heard along the river but the sedge rustling on the brink. There is a little ice along most of the shore throughout the day.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, November 27, 1855

I told him I saw a mink. See November 17, 1855 ("Mink seem to be more commonly seen now.”) Compare December 19, 1859 ("Farmer . . . saw but one mink-track in all his rides, and thinks that they are scarce this year."); March 13, 1859 ("Garfield . . . asked if I had seen any mink. I said that I commonly saw two or three in a year. He said that he had not seen one alive for eight or ten years. [but] catch thirty or forty dollars' worth every winter.")

A mink skin which he showed me was a darker brown than the one I saw last. See November 13, 1855 (“Going over Swamp Bridge Brook at 3 P. M., I saw in the pond by the roadside, a few rods before me, the sun shining bright, a mink swimming . . . It was a rich brown fur . . . not black as it sometimes appears, especially on ice.”); 

I hear that he gives $1.75, and sells them again at a profit. See March 15, 1855 ("He sells about a hundred mink skins in a year. . . .He says (I think) a mink’s skin is worth two dollars!”) See also December 19, 1859("Talking with Garfield to-day about his trapping, he said that mink brought three dollars and a quarter.")

November 27. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  November 27

Little to be heard 

along the river but sedge

    rustling on the brink.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  Little to be heard 

along the river

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau

 "A book, each page written in its own season, 

out-of-doors, in its own locality."

 ~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx ©  2009-2025