The Natural History of Selborne

Farmer Spencer mows his cow-grass.

Clouds, hail, shower, gleams.  Sharp air, & fire in the parlor.  Showers about.  Garden-crops much retarded, & nothing can be planted.  Farmer Bridger sends me three real snipe’s eggs: they are in shape, & colour exactly like those of the lapwing, only one half less.  The colour of the eggs is a dull yellow, spotted with chocolate:  they are blunt at the great end, & taper much till they become sharp at the smaller.  The eggs, sent me for snipe’s eggs last year, seem to have been those of a fern-owl.

Male glow-worms, attracted by the light of the candles, come into the parlor.  The distant hills look very blue.  There was rain on Sunday on many sides of us, to the S. the S.E. & the N.W. at Alton & Odiham a fine shower, & at Emsworth, & at Newbury: & as near us as Kingsley.  No may chafers this year with us.

Summer-cabbages, & lettuce come in.  Roses red & white blow.  Began to tack the vines.  Thomas finds more rudiments of bloom than he expected.

Heavy thundrous clouds, copious dew. Opened, & slipped-out the superfluous shoots of the artichockes.

Hops grow prodigiously, yet are infested with some aphides.  Early cabbages turn hard, but boil well.  Watered kidney-beans, which come-up well.

Wheat begins to come into ear: wheat, which was very yellow from the cold winds, by means of the heat has recovered it’s colour without the assistance of rain.  Dew, cloudless, sultry.  Red even, dead calm.  The lettuces, which stood under the fruit-wall thro’ the winter, are just over.  They have been of great service at the table now for many weeks.

Elder, & corn-flags begin to blow already.  Thunder to the S.E., N.E., & N.W.  Gardens, & fields suffer.

Saint foin blows, & the Stfoin fly Sphinx filipendula, appears. Rain at Emsworth. Fyfield sprung a fern-owl on the zig-zag which seemed confounded by the glare of the sun, & dropped again immediately. Mr. Bridger sends me a fine present of trouts caught in the stream down at Oakhanger. The distant hills look very blue in the evenings.

Myriads of tadpoles travers Comb-wood pond in shoales:  when rain comes they will emigrate to land, & cover the paths & fields.  We draw much water for the garden, so that the well sinks. Flowers are hurried out of bloom by the heat;  spring-corn & gardens suffer.