W. Warde Fowler, More Tales of the Birds
“ Skylarks were singing overhead: a Stonechat was perched on a gorse-twig close by, 111 balancing himself in the breeze,—a fine bird, with black head and russet breast. Swallows darted about catching the flies that haunted the gorse-bloom; and our own people, the Linnets, were dancing about in the air and twittering their song, or sitting bolt upright on the gorse over their nests, singing a few sweet notes as the fancy took them. We could tell them from all the others by the way they perched, and we tried to do it ourselves. ”
