Letter XXIVTo Thomas Pennant, EsquireSelborne, May 29, 1769.Dear Sir,The scarabaeus fullo I know very well, having seen it in collections; but have never been able to discover one wild in its natural state. Mr. Banks told me he thought it might be found on the sea-coast.On the thirteenth of April I went to the sheep-down, where the ring-ousels have been observed to make their appearance at spring and fall, in their way perhaps to the north or south; and was much pleased to see three birds about the usual spot. We shot a cock and a hen; they were plump and in high condition. The hen had but very small rudiments of eggs within her, which proves they are late breeders; whereas those species of the thrush kind that remain with us the whole year have fledged young before that time. In their crops was nothing very distinguishable, but somewhat that seemed like blades of vegetables nearly digested. In autumn they feed on haws and yew-berries, and in the spring on ivy-berries. I dressed one of these birds, and found it juicy and well-flavoured. It is remarkable that they make but a few days’ stay in their spring visit, but rest near a fortnight at Michaelmas. These birds, from the observations of three springs and two autumns, are most punctual in their return; and exhibit a new migration unnoticed by the writers, who supposed they never were to be seen in any of the southern counties.One of my neighbours lately brought me a new salicaria, which at first I suspected might have proved your willow-lark,* but, on a nicer examination, it answered much better to the description of that species which you shot at Revesby, in Lincolnshire. My bird I describe thus: ‘It is a size less than the grasshopper-lark; the head, back, and coverts of the wings of a dusky brown, without those dark spots of the grasshopper-lark; over each eye is a milk-white stroke; the chin and throat are white, and the under parts of a yellowish white; the rump is tawny and the feathers of the tail sharp-pointed; the bill is dusky and sharp, and the legs are dusky; the hinder claw long and crooked. The person that shot it says that it sung so like a reed-sparrow that he took it for one; and that it sings all night; but this account merits further inquiry. For my part, I suspect it is a second sort of locustella, hinted at by Dr. Derham in Ray’s Letters: see p. 108. He also procured me a grasshopper-lark.* For this salicaria see letter August 30, 1769.The question that you put with regard to those genera of animals that are peculiar to America, viz. how they came there, and whence? is too puzzling for me to answer; and yet so obvious as often to have struck me with wonder. If one looks into the writers on that subject little satisfaction is to be found. Ingenious men will readily advance plausible arguments to support whatever theory they shall choose to maintain; but then the misfortune is, every one’s hypothesis is each as good as another’s, since they are all founded on conjecture. The late writers of this sort, in whom may be seen all the arguments of those that have gone before, as I remember, stock America from the western coast of Africa and the south of Europe; and then break down the Isthmus that bridged over the Atlantic. But this is making use of a violent piece of machinery: it is a difficulty worthy of the interposition of a god! ‘Incredulus odi.’To Thomas Pennant, EsquireThe Naturalist’s Summer-evening Walk… equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illisIngenium.VIRG. GEORG.When day declining sheds a milder gleam,What time the may-fly[1] haunts the pool or stream;When the still owl skims round the grassy mead,What time the timorous hare limps forth to feed;Then be the time to steal adown the vale,And listen to the vagrant[2] cuckoo’s tale,To hear the clamorous[3] curlew call his mate,Or the soft quail his tender pain relate;To see the swallow sweep the dark’ning plainBelated, to support her infant train;To mark the swift in rapid giddy ringDash round the steeple, unsubdu’d of wing:Amusive birds!—say where your hid retreatWhen the frost rages and the tempests beat;Whence your return, by such nice instinct led,When spring, soft season, lifts her bloomy head ?Such baffled searches mock man’s prying pride,The God of Nature is your secret guide!While deep’ning shades obscure the face of dayTo yonder bench, leaf-shelter’d, let us stray,Till blended objects fail the swimming sight,And all the fading landscape sinks in night;To hear the drowsy dor come brushing byWith buzzing wing, or the shrill[4] cricket cry;To see the feeding bat glance through the wood;To catch the distant falling of the flood;While o’er the cliff th’ awakened churn-owl hungThrough the still gloom protracts his chattering song;While high in air, and pois’d upon his wings,Unseen, the soft enamour’d woodlark[5] sings:These, Nature’s works, the curious mind employ,Inspire a soothing melancholy joy:As fancy warms, a pleasing kind of painSteals o’er the cheek, and thrills the creeping vein!Each rural sight, each sound, each smell combine;The tinkling sheep-bell, or the breath of kine;The new-mown hay that scents the swelling breeze,Or cottage-chimney smoking through the trees.The chilling night-dews fall: away, retire;For see, the glow-worm lights her amorous fire![6]Thus, ere night’s veil had half obscured the sky,Th’ impatient damsel hung her lamp on high:True to the signal, by love’s meteor led,Leander hasten’d to his Hero’s bed.[7]I am, etc.[1] The angler’s may-fly, the ephemera vulgata Linn., comes forth from its aurelia state, and emerges out of the water about six in the evening, and dies about eleven at night, determining the date of its fly state in about five or six hours. They usually begin to appear about the 4th of June, and continue in succession for near a fortnight. See Swammerdam, Derham, Scopoli, etc.[2] Vagrant cuckoo; so called because, being tied down by no incubation or attendance about the nutrition of its young, it wanders without control.[3] Charadrius aedicnemus.[4] Gryllus campetris.[5] In hot summer nights woodlarks soar to a prodigious height, and hang singing in the air[6] The light of the female glow-worm (as she often crawls up the stalk of a grass to make herself more conspicuous) is a signal to the male, which is a slender dusky scarabaeus.[7] See the story of Hero and Leander.)
To Thomas Pennant, Esquire
Selborne, May 29, 1769.
Dear Sir,
The scarabaeus fullo I know very well, having seen it in collections; but have never been able to discover one wild in its natural state. Mr. Banks told me he thought it might be found on the sea-coast.
On the thirteenth of April I went to the sheep-down, where the ring-ousels have been observed to make their appearance at spring and fall, in their way perhaps to the north or south; and was much pleased to see three birds about the usual spot. We shot a cock and a hen; they were plump and in high condition. The hen had but very small rudiments of eggs within her, which proves they are late breeders; whereas those species of the thrush kind that remain with us the whole year have fledged young before that time. In their crops was nothing very distinguishable, but somewhat that seemed like blades of vegetables nearly digested. In autumn they feed on haws and yew-berries, and in the spring on ivy-berries. I dressed one of these birds, and found it juicy and well-flavoured. It is remarkable that they make but a few days’ stay in their spring visit, but rest near a fortnight at Michaelmas. These birds, from the observations of three springs and two autumns, are most punctual in their return; and exhibit a new migration unnoticed by the writers, who supposed they never were to be seen in any of the southern counties.
One of my neighbours lately brought me a new salicaria, which at first I suspected might have proved your willow-lark,* but, on a nicer examination, it answered much better to the description of that species which you shot at Revesby, in Lincolnshire. My bird I describe thus: ‘It is a size less than the grasshopper-lark; the head, back, and coverts of the wings of a dusky brown, without those dark spots of the grasshopper-lark; over each eye is a milk-white stroke; the chin and throat are white, and the under parts of a yellowish white; the rump is tawny and the feathers of the tail sharp-pointed; the bill is dusky and sharp, and the legs are dusky; the hinder claw long and crooked. The person that shot it says that it sung so like a reed-sparrow that he took it for one; and that it sings all night; but this account merits further inquiry. For my part, I suspect it is a second sort of locustella, hinted at by Dr. Derham in Ray’s Letters: see p. 108. He also procured me a grasshopper-lark.
* For this salicaria see letter August 30, 1769.
The question that you put with regard to those genera of animals that are peculiar to America, viz. how they came there, and whence? is too puzzling for me to answer; and yet so obvious as often to have struck me with wonder. If one looks into the writers on that subject little satisfaction is to be found. Ingenious men will readily advance plausible arguments to support whatever theory they shall choose to maintain; but then the misfortune is, every one’s hypothesis is each as good as another’s, since they are all founded on conjecture. The late writers of this sort, in whom may be seen all the arguments of those that have gone before, as I remember, stock America from the western coast of Africa and the south of Europe; and then break down the Isthmus that bridged over the Atlantic. But this is making use of a violent piece of machinery: it is a difficulty worthy of the interposition of a god! ‘Incredulus odi.’
To Thomas Pennant, Esquire
… equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illisIngenium.
VIRG. GEORG.
When day declining sheds a milder gleam,What time the may-fly[1] haunts the pool or stream;When the still owl skims round the grassy mead,What time the timorous hare limps forth to feed;Then be the time to steal adown the vale,And listen to the vagrant[2] cuckoo’s tale,To hear the clamorous[3] curlew call his mate,Or the soft quail his tender pain relate;To see the swallow sweep the dark’ning plainBelated, to support her infant train;To mark the swift in rapid giddy ringDash round the steeple, unsubdu’d of wing:Amusive birds!—say where your hid retreatWhen the frost rages and the tempests beat;Whence your return, by such nice instinct led,When spring, soft season, lifts her bloomy head ?Such baffled searches mock man’s prying pride,The God of Nature is your secret guide!While deep’ning shades obscure the face of dayTo yonder bench, leaf-shelter’d, let us stray,Till blended objects fail the swimming sight,And all the fading landscape sinks in night;To hear the drowsy dor come brushing byWith buzzing wing, or the shrill[4] cricket cry;To see the feeding bat glance through the wood;To catch the distant falling of the flood;While o’er the cliff th’ awakened churn-owl hungThrough the still gloom protracts his chattering song;While high in air, and pois’d upon his wings,Unseen, the soft enamour’d woodlark[5] sings:These, Nature’s works, the curious mind employ,Inspire a soothing melancholy joy:As fancy warms, a pleasing kind of painSteals o’er the cheek, and thrills the creeping vein!Each rural sight, each sound, each smell combine;The tinkling sheep-bell, or the breath of kine;The new-mown hay that scents the swelling breeze,Or cottage-chimney smoking through the trees.The chilling night-dews fall: away, retire;For see, the glow-worm lights her amorous fire![6]Thus, ere night’s veil had half obscured the sky,Th’ impatient damsel hung her lamp on high:True to the signal, by love’s meteor led,Leander hasten’d to his Hero’s bed.[7]
I am, etc.
[1] The angler’s may-fly, the ephemera vulgata Linn., comes forth from its aurelia state, and emerges out of the water about six in the evening, and dies about eleven at night, determining the date of its fly state in about five or six hours. They usually begin to appear about the 4th of June, and continue in succession for near a fortnight. See Swammerdam, Derham, Scopoli, etc.
[2] Vagrant cuckoo; so called because, being tied down by no incubation or attendance about the nutrition of its young, it wanders without control.
[3] Charadrius aedicnemus.
[4] Gryllus campetris.
[5] In hot summer nights woodlarks soar to a prodigious height, and hang singing in the air
[6] The light of the female glow-worm (as she often crawls up the stalk of a grass to make herself more conspicuous) is a signal to the male, which is a slender dusky scarabaeus.
[7] See the story of Hero and Leander.)