in Thoreau’s Journal:

….I hear a dry ripe autumnal chirp of a cricket––

It is the next step to the first golden rod––  It grows where it escapes the mower––but no doubt in our localities of plants we do not know where they would prefer to grow if unmolested by man––but rather where they best escape his vandalism–– How large a proportion of flowers for instance are repressed to & found by hedges walls & fences.