There was an interesting BBC 2 programme last evening about the Reverend Gilbert White, of Selbourne, the English naturalist of the 18th Century who inspired Darwin to become a naturalist. He is regarded by many as England's first ecologist and one of the founders of modern respect for nature. He recognised humanity as only one link in the whole chain of nature - the first principle of ecology. The earth worm was for instance most important, without them "the earth would become cold and therefore sterile."

He was an ornithologist who described in beautiful descriptive language the pattern of behaviour of, for instance, his beloved housemartins - an inspiration for Keats and Wordsworth. He had an empathy with the natural world and was inquisitive about so many things connected with fauna and flora changing our culture.

He was concerned about the agriculture of his day and the welfare of its workers.

In 1788 he published his book "The Natural History of Selbourne" which has never been out of print.

In 1792 he died, and was borne to his grave in line with his wishes by "six honest labouring men."

Here is one of his poems:

The Naturalist's Summer-Evening Walk

To Thomas Pennant, Esquire.

... equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illis

Ingenium.

Virg., Georg.

When day declining sheds a milder gleam,

What time the may-fly 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 cuckoo's tale;

To hear the clamorous curlew call his mate,

Or the soft quail his tender pain relate;

To see the swallow sweep the dark'ning plain

Belated, to support her infant train;

To mark the swift in rapid giddy ring

Dash round the steeple, unsubdu'd of wing:

Amusive birds! -- say where your hid retreat

When 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 day

To 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 dorr come brushing by

With buzzing wing, or the shrill 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 hung

Through the still gloom protracts his chattering song;"

While high in air, and pois'd upon his wings,

Unseen, the soft, enamour'd woodlark sings:

These, Nature's works, the curious mind employ,

Inspire a soothing melancholy joy:

As fancy warms, a pleasing kind of pain

Steals 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!

Thus, ere night's veil had half obscur'd 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.

I am , & c.

Gilbert White