COUNTRY LIFE
ENGLISH husbandry at the moment provides some contrasts that are at least unexpected. Those who want to buy farms—and these include many women--find most prices very nearly .prohibitive.: - Agricultural land that fell to less than nothing—for the price" was low for the home- stead apart from the land—early in the century is now worth from £30 an acre upwards. At the same time pure-bred stock isjetclaing. enormous prices, as witnessed the other day in the breed sale of red-polls at Ipswich. Young bulls, for example, fetched £400. The two-purpose breed grows perhaps more popular, but it has no monoPialy of high prices. In association with such prices and general prosperity on the,. farm goes a dearth of labour that makes stock-farming almost impossible in some quarters. Cowmen are advertised, for in vain. " If this goes on," a farmer said to me the other day, " the public will soon get no milk." Meanwhile, the excess of milk, owing to a scarcely precedented yield, is so big as to embarrass those amateurs who are not allowed to sell, and they are numerous under our curious war-time system. ENGLISH husbandry at the moment provides some contrasts that are at least unexpected. Those who want to buy farms—and these include many women--find most prices very nearly .prohibitive.: - Agricultural land that fell to less than nothing—for the price" was low for the home- stead apart from the land—early in the century is now worth from £30 an acre upwards. At the same time pure-bred stock isjetclaing. enormous prices, as witnessed the other day in the breed sale of red-polls at Ipswich. Young bulls, for example, fetched £400. The two-purpose breed grows perhaps more popular, but it has no monoPialy of high prices. In association with such prices and general prosperity on the,. farm goes a dearth of labour that makes stock-farming almost impossible in some quarters. Cowmen are advertised, for in vain. " If this goes on," a farmer said to me the other day, " the public will soon get no milk." Meanwhile, the excess of milk, owing to a scarcely precedented yield, is so big as to embarrass those amateurs who are not allowed to sell, and they are numerous under our curious war-time system.
Daddies Of all the creatures that fly, the daddy-long-legs looks the least we'd adapted for survival. It seems incredibly clumsy; its awkward legs break at a touch ; it is obvious to all its many enemies, and has no means of escape. Yet every year—not least this year—it appears in hosts. Doubtless the reason is the promptitude of the female in laying her eggs in the safe harbourage of the grass. It is when such numbers appear that I feel most sure of the beneficence of the rook and the starling. What would happen if these birds did not spend this spring in probing for leather-jackets, and the pupae is "a thing imagination boggles at." At this moment some golf-greens are thickly littered with little tufts of grass torn up by the rooks in their pursuit. The starlings work more neatly, just opening their bills as they probe. Since the pupa often half-emerge, they are peculiarly unpopular with accurate putters, though the green-keepers abuse the rooks. Incidentally, these crane flies are true flies, a word we use wrongly- of butterfly, dragonfly, Mayfly, and firefly. Contrariwise, the scientific would like us to call
fleas flies! •
Nightingale Haunts I was called up this week by an unknown Australian, asking where he could bear a nightingale and when the bird ceased singing. In my neighbourhood, though there are several pairs in residence, the singing has been very sparse. On the other hand, I never heard a louder or more continuous singer than on the high road just outside Huntingdon, which is farther north, and the singing was in full daylight. The noise of many passing lorries seemed to stimulate the bird. Yet the further south the better is probably the best advice to a would-be listener, and Surrey up to the edge of London is always popular with vocal nightin- gales. The songs cease as a rule about the second week of June, but my experience is that the song is heard later and later at night as the season advances. One nightingale, party last June would have had to wait till 2 a.m. to hear the singer, as the baulked host discovered.
English!
An aged cottager went forth to pay a business call on the owner of the neighbouring country house. In describing her visit later, she said: "There he was, sitting in his revolting summer-house! " A close neigh- bour of this expert in English (always excepting its Latin derivatives) reports that a soldier son is coming home on " passionate leave." He has quite a good reputation in the village. Several newer words are accurately grasped, except for quantity. One of my neighbours rejoices in the " subsidy " he gets for his hen's eggs, and " siren" is common.
In My Garden Both the end of the war and cuts in rations are affecting gardeners. An account has reached me—from North Ireland—of a gardener who has promptly changed his tunnelled shelters into a mushroom house, for which any such place is well designed. It would also serve for forcing rhubarb. The ration cut has persuaded a number of householders to sow more of the more solid vegetables, especially French and runner beans. In the flower garden nothing has been more remarkable that the extreme earliness and free-flowering of unpruned roses—notably V Hornless Zephyrine Drouhin and George Dickson—and the lateness
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