Edward Jesse, Once a Week (1860)
“ I love the warbling of the birds, and the cawing of the rooks. Even the various mosses and fungi have charms for me, as I wander under the shade of the trees. Then the wood-pigeons coo their notes of love, or sometimes take alarm, and their loud flapping flight is heard as they move to settle on some distant tree. I hear the wailing of the nightingale as I approach her nest,—one of those unmistakeable sounds which denote fear: “her wail resounds,” as Thomson notices, for he lived, and wrote, and died in the haunts of that bird. ”
