It was the nightingale I liked best. Or maybe the auroch. The nightingale sang strong and marvellously sweet when all the other singers had given up, his voice filling the night. Each nightingale has a personal repertoire of 250 phrases made from 600 individual sound units.

I ran into the auroch at six the next morning: enormous, uncompromising and emerging from the bush with a formidable set of horns.