J. Lewis Bonhote,
Birds of Britain
“ We are on a hillside in Wales, below us lies the Irish Channel, with hardly a ripple on its surface, the hill itself is almost covered with a short growth of furze and heather, the intervening spaces being carpeted with short moss and grass, kept well cropped by the hardy race of sheep for which the Principality is justly famous. “Chuck, chuck”—this time we catch a glimpse of the bird, the beautiful white half-moon on his breast showing up clearly against the black of the rest of his plumage as he sits on one of the boulders that project through the vegetation and refuse to be hidden. ”
