Hear to-day in my chamber, about 11 A. M., a singular sharp crackling sound by the window, which makes me think of the snapping of an insect (with its wings, or striking something). It is produced by one of three small pitch pine cones which I gathered on the 7th, and which lay in the sun on the window-sill.
I notice a slight motion in the scales at the apex, when suddenly, with a louder crackling, it bursts, or the scales separate, with a snapping sound on all sides of it. It is a general and sudden bursting or expanding of all the scales with a sharp crackling sound and motion of the whole cone, as by a force pent up within it.
I suppose the strain only needed to be relieved in one point for the whole to go off.
I was remarking to-day to Mr. Rice on the pleasantness of this November thus far, when he remarked that he remembered a similar season fifty-four years ago, and he remembered it because on the 13th of November that year he was engaged in pulling turnips and saw wild geese go over, when one came to tell him that his father was killed by a bridge giving way when his team was crossing it, and the team falling on him walking at its side.
P. M. — Up Assabet with Sophia.
A clear, bright, warm afternoon.
A painted tortoise swimming under water and a wood tortoise out on the bank.
The rain has raised the river an additional foot or more, and it is creeping over the meadows. The old weedy margin is covered and a new grassy one acquired.
The current is stronger, though the surface is smooth. Leaves and sticks and billets of wood come floating down in middle of the full, still stream, turning round in the eddies.
The motion of my boat sends an undulation to the shore, which rustles the dry sedge half immersed there.
Two red-wing blackbirds alight on a black willow.
Minott hears geese to-day.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, November 14, 1855
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