I'm a sucker for books, particularly of natural history books, and especially those that could be termed as having a literary bent. In recent years the market has been flooded with them, coining the phrase 'new nature writing'. One of the architects of such works, Mark Cocker, has written an interesting piece about this subject for the New Statesmen. You can find it easily by clicking here.
My bedside table currently has three natural history books awaiting my attention: The Natural History of Selborne (Gilbert White), Island Going (Robert Atkinson - thanks Pete!) and Common Ground (Rob Cowen). Two of these are works from many years ago. Whether or not I am largely an avid reader of such publications because they invoke a sense of nostalgia is a moot point - but the prerequisite of any book worthy of my (or your) attention should be that they are well written. I think it is fair to say that the level of penmanship in this particular field of subject is very high indeed.
It is said that we all possess within us a book. In idle moments I fantasise about writing one, with nature being a central theme. But when you cast your eyes across what has already appeared, it will take a great leap of faith to actually do so.