The Natural History of Selborne

Wood-cock returns, & is seen in the Hanger.  Young martins in the nest at little World-ham; probably Ward-le-ham.

Numbers of pheasants at Inne down-coppice.

Rain 78 in my garden, on the tower 59.

Many wasps at Lydon in Rutland, tho’ none in the great heats of autumn 1781. So there is some mystery in their breeding that we do not understand. * At the autumnal aequinox, the evenings are remarkably dark, because the sun at that time sets more in a right angle to the horizon, than at any other season. But of late these uncomfortable glooms have been much softened by frequent N. Auroras. This circumstance of autumnal darkness did not escape the poet of nature: who says,

“Now black, & deep the night begins to fall,/
A shade immense. Sunk in the quenching gloom/
Magnificent & vast are heaven & earth/
Order confounded lies; all beauty void;/
Distinction lost; & gay variety/
One universal blot: such the fair power
Of light, to kindle, & create the whole.”
Thompson’s Autumn

It is remarkable that this wet cold weather produces no good mushrooms.  A great plenty of the pale, coarse sort appeared early in the autumn, but I have seen none with the salmon-coloured laminae, wich are the only edible sort.

Bro. Thomas White, his daughter, & two sons left Selborne.

Sad hop, & harvest weather.

Many swarms of bees have dyed this summer: the badness of the weather has prevented their thriving.

One little starveling wasp.

Barley mowing about the country.