He writes on 25 April 1858, “When I was at the Cleave on Friday, a viper made its appearance and then another and so on till there were four, all in a few minutes. It being very warm, this was (I think) their first appearance from their winter hiding place: they were very lean.” He speaks of fishing in the Bovey down below the Cleave, 17 May 1846, “There is a timidity about me, I am looking every step I plant my foot, fearing the ‘varmints’ as Farmer ***** calls them: not so before now--would brush by everything, and even step on them.” He also writes, 22 March 1855, “Tuesday was the first day of summer, and it was so warm and pleasant that a lizard got on a shawl that was put out on the side of the hedge in the eye of the sun, where he appeared very comfortable in his warm bed. But the poor thing lost his life in consequence.” The people here call lizards crocodiles, and always slaughter them as noxious things. I never heard of a lizard doing any harm here, excepting one that was licked up by a cow and got down into her lung and killed her. Some years ago a venerable lady came down to stay with me, and she wore a wide-brimmed hat with feathers enough to cover a swan. One afternoon I left her sitting on the hill side, looking at the view, while I went after something else; and presently I saw a buzzard hovering right over her with its head bent forward and staring intently down. Up there the buzzard could only see the feathers and very little else; and I feared she would be terribly upset, if this huge bird dropped down on her and carried off the hat. And the bird could easily have done it, as these buzzards measure forty or fifty inches across their outspread wings. An owl came down the chimney of the Higher Parlour here and bounced into the room, its great eyes blinking through a cloud of soot; and it rather scared a couple of young people who were having a quiet flirtation there. And once the Higher Parlour was attacked by bees. Some honey had been taken from the hives and put into a cupboard there, and they came after it--there must have been ten thousand of them in the room at once. That was in the happy days before disease was brought here from the Isle of Wight. The bees are all dead now; but usually there were a dozen hives, and sometimes many more--the old straw hives, each standing on a sort of one-legged table and covered with a sheaf of straw like an extinguisher. It was pleasant on a sunny day to see the bees out playing round the hives, and the cats all stretched out in the grass below, waiting there to eat the mice that came to eat the honey.