This was shortlisted for the Wainwright Conservation Prize though didn’t go on to win it, which makes me keen to read the winner, Czerski’s The Blue MThis was shortlisted for the Wainwright Conservation Prize though didn’t go on to win it, which makes me keen to read the winner, Czerski’s The Blue Machine: How the Ocean Works, as if it’s as informative and entertaining as this, I will be in for another treat.
Yeo explores extinction and environmental loss making an impassioned plea for conservation from an angle not usually heard. Interested by rewilding, she investigates when exactly the planet ceased to become wild. She discusses how letting nature take its course might not always be the best way forward, referring to the historical ecologist George Peterken who believes that nature can exist on a spectrum. It fits in with the amount of times our landscapes have changed and evolved over time.
In the past I have struggled to enjoy books that concern the history of the natural world, but Yeo writing is sympathetic with details of her research as well as other anecdotes punctuating the narrative at exactly the right times.
I’ll highlight a couple of examples. There’s a chapter on a Finnish project called the Snowchange Cooperative which she praises as a world-leading conservation project. She spends time in North Karelia, by coincidence where I was just a couple of weeks ago, and relates her meetings with two of the Cooperative’s leading lights. She considers foraging and wonders why in the UK it is so unfashionable, when elsewhere in Europe at the appropriate time of year so many people head out into the woods with their baskets. The Latvians, it seems, are continent’s leaders; a head’s up for me, as I will be there in a couple of weeks.
Most interesting though are the last couple of chapters which concern folklore and myth..
The psychoanalyst Carl Jung was particularly concerned about the impact of the loss of myth on the human psyche. 'Thunder is no longer the voice of an angry god, nor is lightning his avenging missile. No river contains a spirit, no tree is the life principle of a man, no snake the embodiment of wisdom, no mountain cave the home of a great demon. No voices now speak to man from stones, plants, and animals, nor does he speak to them believing they can hear,’ he wrote in Man and his Symbols, just before his death in 1961. 'His contact with nature has gone, and with it has gone the profound emotional energy that this symbolic connection supplied.’ His contact with nature has gone. The sentiment seemed to strike at the heart of the matter. Somewhere down the line, we became detached from the living world. In felling the forests, we evicted the gods that dwelled in the trees. In allowing our streams to fill with sewage, we supplanted healing with sickness. In killing so many animals, we banished the basis of future fables. The erosion of the wild from our daily lives means that the potential for otherworldly experiences has diminished.
This is where the book excels. Yeo is speaking my language. I spend a minimum of three hours wandering the hills and forests daily, and this is a big part of why I do it.
The Lake District, for instance, was recently made a UNESCO World Heritage Site. To keep this status, the park authority must maintain the existing character of the landscape, which was built around the farming cultures of the past 400 years. The beauty of the open fells, however, is marred by the ecological damage wrought by sheep. If we are to preserve this landscape for its history and traditions, could we not also make room for the Neolithic axe-makers, who would have passed through wildwood as they sought out precious greenstone among the peaks of Great Langdale? For the Wild Boar of Westmorland, which supposedly had a den on Scout Scar and terrorised pilgrims during the reign of King John? For the wolves immortalised in place-names? Farming is far from the only story inscribed upon this corner of the north.
She continues with a warning though, that tales told to children of trolls, elves and goblins can give them a negative image of our (relatively) wild places and mean they seek to avoid them.
Numerous studies have confirmed the intensity of animal-related fear among young children. A 2012 survey, conducted by the ChildFund Alliance, found that fears of insects and dangerous animals outstripped fears of death, disease, war and the end of the world. This remained consistent among children from both developed and developing countries, suggesting roots in something deeper than the chance of actually meeting a tiger, stepping on a scorpion or contracting malaria.
This is a powerful book that stands out amongst the many that currently analyse conservation. It’s well written, and Yeo has something different and relevant to say. Hers is a voice that needs to be heard....more
Tove Jannson, a Finn who wrote in Swedish, was best known for her children’s books, The Moomins series, which she began in 1945. These may be her claiTove Jannson, a Finn who wrote in Swedish, was best known for her children’s books, The Moomins series, which she began in 1945. These may be her claim to fame, but she had a darker and more humorous heart; “I could vomit all over the Moomins”, she once told the BBC. Indeed, as the series continued, as it did until 1970, the plots became darker, as the family is threatened by floods, and even a comet.
Jannson’s other writing was less know, other than The Summer Book which describes the summer stay on an island of a young girl and her grandmother. She was also an illustrator and cartoonist.
In 1956 she met her lifelong partner, Tuulikki Pietilä, known as ‘Tooti’, a graphic artist. Though they both lived in Helsinki, they lived apart, so they could meet unnoticed. To get over this hurdle, they built a cabin on a deserted island in the Gulf of Finland, Klovharu, and this is the story of the 26 years that they lived there. A problem in Helsinki had been Tove’s mother, known as Ham, from whom they felt it necessary to keep their relationship a secret. However, Ham does of course visit them on Klovharu.
This is a beautifully written book. As simple as life is on the island, it is physically demanding b maintaining the boat, chopping driftwood for fuel, preparing for winter, and keeping the generator going, and this only after building was complete.
This is a story of love, for each other, their art, and for their island home, and of inspiration for their work. The ending in particular is very affecting.
It is one of Jannson’s last pieces of work, written when she was 82; she died in 2001, four years later. After that, Tooti put together hours of Super 8 film for a documentary called Haru: The Island of the Solitary, which, on completing the book, is well worth seeing.
We dreamed about what our new cabin would look like. The room would have four windows, one in each wall. Towards the south-east we'd need to see the big storms that rage right across the island, on the east we'd see the moon's reflection in the lagoon, and on the west side a rock face with moss and polypody ferns. To the north, we'll keep watch for approaching boats so we'll have time to get ready.
Hill has done a wealth of research for this book, and when relating the histories of the various bothies and links to literature the book is at its stHill has done a wealth of research for this book, and when relating the histories of the various bothies and links to literature the book is at its strongest. Her own travel writing though does not appeal to me....more
An inaccurate title, as the writers in this collection do not actually walk in Europe, or very few of them do. I was really taken by the idea of this An inaccurate title, as the writers in this collection do not actually walk in Europe, or very few of them do. I was really taken by the idea of this collection, and hoped to pick up some memorable passages, and even a few quotes I could use in my own writing, but the choices of writing, rather than the choices of writers (which is fine) is remarkably underwhelming. From my own collection of quotes and passages about European mountains, I could come up with something at least as good.
Whymper, Nan Shepherd, Maupassant, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Lewis Carroll, Eudora Welty, Norman MacCaig, Grimm, Benjamin Myers, Cynan Jones, Edward Abbey, Wordsworth, John Muir, Florence Williams.. just to mention a few.. ...more
This is a charming fictional memoir told by a ninety year old monk that reads like a piece of non-fiction. Luang Paw Tien shares anecdotes of jungle lThis is a charming fictional memoir told by a ninety year old monk that reads like a piece of non-fiction. Luang Paw Tien shares anecdotes of jungle life in Thailand before his village’s transition to large-scale farming and urban development; these he relates verbally to the gathered children of the village.
His favourite tales are from his childhood, and bring out in him a sort of childhood innocence, when otherwise the community sees him as an eccentric.
The characters that populate the stories he tells are boars, snakes, monkeys, elephants, crocodiles, and tigers. Into his own collection of experiences there is an undercurrent of folklore, of traditonal belief, a smattering of the fantastical, a faint aroma of the supernatural.
Its midway through the piece when a plot takes shape, and it involves a tiger. Reading pace gathers for a sensational climax. ...more
This was a very suitable read for International Women’s Day, a forgotten jewel in fact, though I can’t claim to have taken it on with that in mind.
TheThis was a very suitable read for International Women’s Day, a forgotten jewel in fact, though I can’t claim to have taken it on with that in mind.
The book concerns the life of Elizabeth Taylor, who in the golden years of Arctic exploration, refused to be put off by society telling her that such intrepid endeavours were only for men.
In the 1880s residents of St. Paul, Minnesota, felt insulted. An article in Harper's Weekly said that Minnesota was a very cold place in winter, certainly too frigid for anyone to visit willingly. In an effort to counter that idea and develop tourism, city boosters determined to celebrate the cold through parades, an ice palace modeled on Mon-treal's, and all the skating, tobogganing and sleigh riding events which could be imagined. Elizabeth Taylor (1856-1932) grew up in that St. Paul, so when she was ready to see the world she was inspired by the cold and headed north.
For her early twenties life became one of travel, until 1924, when she returned home. Punctuated by spells in Paris, Scotland and the Faroe Islands she was on the move, making enough to live on by writing essays for various magazines of the day. This book is a collection of them. Taylor came to know the north of Canada well. The first part of the book is dedicated to essays from here. In 1888 she crossed the country by railroad to Sitka, Alaska, where she spent the summer hiking, kayaking and fishing. An unexpected adventure occurred on her return when the steamship Ancon struck a reef and was sunk. She and her entire group of 200 tourists had to be put ashore on a nearby island where they waited five days until another steamer, the George Elder, could rescue them. Her articles in magazines, such as Harper’s Bizarre became very popular, with vivid descriptions of a landscape, that to most, they could only dream about..
We had camped one afternoon, on our way home, at Bechah Onegum, or Pine Portage, and the guides and I had just started in our canoe to run down the rapids to the fishing-ground, when suddenly we heard a rushing, crackling noise, which was echoed back and forth by the high trap cliffs, and looking about, startled by the confused sound which seemed all around us, we saw across the river, where the Cariboo Mountains tower above the rapids, an immense pine-tree which had become loosened from its hold in the rocks, five hundred feet above the bed of the river. It leaped from cliff to cliff, striking with a hoarse, booming sound, breaking in its wild fall many smaller trees, and was followed by them in its downward course, and by detached fragments of rocks. As we looked in won-der, we saw it strike the rapids below with a fearful crash, dashing up great waves on the steep sides of the precipice; the water foamed and hissed, the tree was broken into a hundred fragments by the fall, and the great limbs surged up and down in the waves and then were quickly hurried down the rapids to the falls below. It was a thrilling sight; we watched it all in silence; and when the last sound died away I turned to Joseph for the sympathy and appreciation that he never failed to give. As he met my eyes, he said, in a low tone: "Windigo!" "Why windigo, Joseph?" I asked. Joseph gave his shoulders a little shrug, and took up the paddle to push the canoe off shore. "It is very quiet to-day," he said, significantly, "and the little wind we have blows the other way."
Her writing about Canada makes up about a quarter of the book, and the Faroes, a further third. This is when she is at her best.
For magnificent scenery the far north must yield the palm to the Selkirk range of British Columbia, or the Rockies of Alberta. But this majestic river, sweeping always to the north, the lakes of Athabasca, Great Slave, and Great Bear, the Arctic Rockies, the midnight sun, the wonderful atmospheric effects, all combine to make the journey one of peculiar interest. That it is one of much exposure and some hardships can be readily imagined.
She also illustrated her writing with her own sketches, such as this one from the Mackenzie River.. [image]
Here is another from the Faroes that indicates the humour in her work… [image]
Conditions can have been far from comfortable, more so for a woman expected to conform to the attire of the day..
My camp dress [leaf brown checked skirt, mantle with detachable hood, blouse, full knickerbockers, gaiters and cuffs] has been just the thing, light comfortable, and has passed through great circum-stances, and still looks respectable. I really must be covered with spots and grease, but the skirt at first glance looks clean, and the blouse has only a general tolerable shabbiness. My hat is still good as regards form and color, this English felt though expensive, paid. The dirt seems to take a general tone, and the color is almost unchanged. The silk handkerchief is all faded and looked badly in a few days of hard wear. Something else should be devised, brown preferably. As to gloves, my stout Paris dog skin ones though good, rather pretty, and serviceable, are not thick enough for mosquitoes. Not all bite through, but enough to make one uncomfortable. But I cannot think of anything that would be better, unless it is the very heavy moose skin gloves that one sees in this country. I presume these are to be found in towns, or something resembling them. In coming another time, I should like these same Paris gloves, and a thicker pair for walks in places where the mosquitoes are very bad.
Taylor’s prose is crisp and to the point. She clearly has no time for sentimentality, and is most at home with people who live close to their often harsh, but always magnificent, surroundings. Their response is to invite her into the heart of their communities. Long out of print, the book, like Taylor herself, seems to have been forgotten, and deserves rediscovery and a reprint. She emerges as a real character, a modest woman of great courage and morale in the field of exploration dominated by men.
The book is available for free on the Internet archive (archive.org).
It pairs well with Christiane Ritter’s wonderful A Woman In The Polar Night, though Ritter does write 30 years later....more
A blend of storyline, science and history of wildfires that is a bit heavy on the science. The Fort MacMurray event itself is only a part of the book,A blend of storyline, science and history of wildfires that is a bit heavy on the science. The Fort MacMurray event itself is only a part of the book, and that is completely compelling, seen through the eyes of the residents who were evacuated, those who for varying reasons did not leave, and the fire fighters.
I must admit though to finding the science side heavy going. Distilled down to the horrors that the town and its inhabitants went through, it is excellent. ...more
Beer’s epic memoir begins in some of my favourite mountains, the Howgills, but it concerns a tragedy, and how she almost fell out of love with rivers.Beer’s epic memoir begins in some of my favourite mountains, the Howgills, but it concerns a tragedy, and how she almost fell out of love with rivers.
Though the initial chapters concern grief, this is a celebration of rivers, as well as acting as a timely warning, which come over as political, that we must take action to recover many of them to a healthy state.
She writes that rivers are capable of bringing both life and death, that they possess magic and mysteries that science has yet to comprehend.
Beer uses unmissable descriptions of the environments she discusses, so that the content is informative, moving, and always entertaining. Her descriptions clearly show that rivers, that were historical highways through our wildernesses, whose water has always interacted with, and shaped the land and its inhabitants, must continue to do so.
It is high quality writing on nature and our environment which many of our politicians and administrators would do well to read and take on board. ...more
Just finished an autumnal month in Montenegro’s mountains, chiefly the Durmitor, Komovi and the Accurseds, and this book was very helpful in planning Just finished an autumnal month in Montenegro’s mountains, chiefly the Durmitor, Komovi and the Accurseds, and this book was very helpful in planning my agenda. I’m even slower on the hill than usual at the moment, with arthritic hips, but Abraham’s suggestions are such that they can be adjusted, or abbreviated. The maps could be better, as it’s continually necessary to cross-reference online. It is a problem Cicerone frequently has though. ...more
This is fine travel writing about a part of the world few readers will know much about. Though much has been written about the Balkans in recent yearsThis is fine travel writing about a part of the world few readers will know much about. Though much has been written about the Balkans in recent years, this concerns a remote river valley in north-east Bulgaria, a place that is on my agenda to visit in the next few years.
Kassabova, who has lived in the Scottish Highlands for the last ten years, returns to native Bulgaria, and her childhood routes in the Mesta valley.
Her focus is on the area’s folklore which she comes at from a particular angle, exploring the relationship between the people and plants. I must confess to being incredibly ignorant about plants and herbs, so this interested me, but not enough for its place as the backbone of the book. My real interest and in the people and the place, and there was enough of that to keep me happy. Kassabova is at a strength when relating the experiences of everyday life. ...more
I have enjoyed both of Erika Fatland’s travel books so far, and this was even better.
She begins her circumnavigation in the Xinjiang province, crosseI have enjoyed both of Erika Fatland’s travel books so far, and this was even better.
She begins her circumnavigation in the Xinjiang province, crosses the border into Pakistan and travels down the Karakorum highway onto Gilgit, Chitral and the Swat Valley.
I have actually done this journey myself, though quite a few years ago, in 1987. I took the train across China from east to west, to Ürümqi, then various buses to Kashgar, onto the border, and beyond, into Swat. I foreshadowed her to Lahore, but snuck into Faisalabad to watch a Test Match against New Zealand on the way. From Lahore her journey takes her across the Punjab and into Indian Kashmir, then Leh, Manali, Dharmsala, Darjeeling and Sikkim before venturing onto Bhutan and Arunachal and Assam. After a break, on a second trip to Nepal, she treks to Everest base camp and onto Upper Mustang then crossing into Tibet, and a tightly controlled Lhasa, finishing in the legendary Shangri La in Yunnan province.
She soon discovers that “the story is the same throughout the Himalayas: the borders are closing as nation states pull back to protect themselves and plug any holes with military posts.”,
Borders are like sausages. It is sometimes best not to know how they are made.
China, she slyly notes, “has spent more money on domestic security than on the military, and China’s defense budget is the second largest in the world.” Everywhere, she is confronted by pompous officials and unnecessary red tape, but despite these obstacles, she perseveres, and even manages and appropriate dose of humour.
During some of the descriptions of her exchanges with locals her own personality comes through, and it does veer into political territory at times. She does not seem sympathetic to all the people she meets, though whether this is just a function of the translation we are left to ponder. Regardless, this is a detailed and well-written account which confirms her as a travel writer of considerable talent. She hears of many atrocities committed in the name of religion, to which she comments..
I cannot count the number of kitchen tables where I have sat and listened to these same words and accusations, spoken with the same endless grief and pain, only in another language, in another country.
.
Here’s a couple of other highlights for me..
If you are unlucky, or lucky, enough to meet a yeti, you first have to establish what sex it is. If it is a male, you have to run uphill, because male yetis have long hair and will trip on it. If it is a female, you have to run downhill, because female yetis have such big breasts that it is hard for them to run downhill without falling.
and,
No person has ever climbed Mount Kailash (Ngari, Province in Tibet). Not because it is particularly high, it reaches 6638 metres above sea level, but because it would be sacrilege to disturb the gods who live there. Instead pilgrims go round the mountain, a distance of fifty four kilometres.
I didn’t enjoy Aldred’s writing style though I do respect that his work and painstaking collection of data. I hadn’t planned to read it. I wasn’t entiI didn’t enjoy Aldred’s writing style though I do respect that his work and painstaking collection of data. I hadn’t planned to read it. I wasn’t enticed by the ‘pandemic’ tag from the publisher, but it won the Wainwright Nature Prize, and it became harder not to.
I think he had made a mistake in referring to the pandemic so often, and in particular to the health of the Prime Minister. Between the goshawk action we almost get a day by day update on Johnson’s recovery. It comes over as political, and totally unnecessary. This was something I found particularly off-putting. Also, passages on his dislike for dogs and their owners is something that would have been best kept to himself. Make the point and move on, no need to labour it.
Compare this to other Wainwright nominated books, for example Lee Schofield’s Wild Fell: Fighting For Nature On A Lake District Hill Farm, and it is evident that the latter has balance and compromise. Aldred comes across more as a diatribe.
In nature there has to be a place for all to enjoy. Those who do, hikers, runners, mountain bikers, artists, drivers, dog walkers, and all, must play their part as well.
In our National Park the pandemic meant practically nobody visited. It was great in that people like me had the fells almost completely to ourselves. Nature reclaimed many of the smaller tracks and paths, and are still now quite difficult to find. It meant a chance for many species to reestablish themselves in places they had long ago been driven away from. There were many more sightings of deer, foxes and badgers in local fields than previously. Over the course of a few weeks one young roe deer formed a relationship with my dog; not with me, from whom she fled when she saw me. But now visitors have returned, much welcomed by local tourism businesses. We must learn to live together, and balance and compromise are key....more
Second time of reading, and appreciated even more as I am followed his footsteps, reasonably closely. The blog of my journey, a lesser work.. at the bSecond time of reading, and appreciated even more as I am followed his footsteps, reasonably closely. The blog of my journey, a lesser work.. at the blog page of my website.
At one stage the author ponders what the area will be like in 50 years time, already he says, there are signs of tourism changing the areas he visits.
Its 56 years on now, and I plan to visit and follow his progress later next year, though with dog and campervan in tow. A week or so ago I read his earlier book, Mani: Travels in the Southern Peloponnese, by which I was inspired. I don't expect things to be much like they were in Fermor's days, but I am nonetheless very keen to find out.
Mani's northern counterpart follows Fermor's journey among Sarakatsan shepherds, the monasteries of Meteora and the villages of Krakora, among itinerant pedlars and beggars, and even tracks down at Missolonghi a pair of Byron’s slippers.
He attains the balance between travelogue and historical detail effortlessly. Its a difficult balance to get right, most readers are not beginners to Greek history, or to the country's culture, yet neither are they by any means experts. I will revisit this while travelling, and appreciate more the historical aspects.
These are two of the best travel books of the twentieth century....more
Read for the second time while actually on the middle finger.. Mani that is. In fact I'm spending Christmas in Mani, on the west coast at Alika to be Read for the second time while actually on the middle finger.. Mani that is. In fact I'm spending Christmas in Mani, on the west coast at Alika to be exact, a couple of kilometres from Gerolimenas, visiting places that Fermor writes about. Many of the stone towers have been renovated to smart holiday accommodation now, but other than that, the place is every bit as wild and desolate as Fermor describes. I look out my window now to the Evil Mountains. I've been in Mani for ten days now, travelling the opposite way to Fermor, beginning in Gytheio, then down the east coast to Porto Kagio, and Cape Taernaron and the entrance to Hades. This is a very special book to me.. Here's an example of why..
On the map the southern part of the Peloponnese looks like a misshapen tooth fresh torn from its gum with three peninsulas jutting southwards in jagged and carious roots. The central prong is formed by the Tayegtus mountains, which from their northern foothills in the heart of the Morea to their storm-beaten southern point, Cape Matapan, are roughly a hundred miles long. About half their length - seventy five miles on their western and forty five on their eastern flank and measuring fifty miles across - projects tapering into the sea. This is the Mani. As the Taygetus range towers to eight thousand feet at the centre , subsiding to north and south in chasm after chasm, these distances as the crow flies can with equanimity be trebled and quadrupled and sometimes, when reckoning overland, multiplied tenfold. Just as the inland Taygetus divides the Messenian from the Laconian plain, its continuation, the sea-washed Mani, divides the Aegean from the Ionian, and its wild cape, the ancient Taenarus and the entrance to Hades, is the southernmost point of Greece. Nothing but the bleak Mediterranean, sinking below to enormous depths, lies between this spike of rock and the African sands and from this point the huge wall of the Taygetus, whose highest peaks bar the bare and waterless inferno of rock. The Taygetus rolls in peak after peak to its southernmost tip, a huge pale grey bulk with nothing to interrupt its monotony.
These short November days see me immersed in inspirational travel books each of there locations competing for a place in my calendar for the following year. Its little wonder that a book from Patrick Leigh Fermor wins a place. In fact two do, the partner to this also, which I am yet to read, Roumeli: Travels in Northern Greece.
The Mani is the middle of the three narrow peninsulas of the southern Peloponnese, 40 miles long and 75 years ago, almost inaccessible, except by sea. When Leigh Fermor first came here in 1951, it was by a intrepid mountain hike across the Taygetus range.
There's a considerable part of his writing dedicated to the rich history of the area. The detail of this will be better appreciated by me when I am there. For me, his writing is at its strongest when relating anecdotes gleaned from random and unscheduled meetings with the locals. So many years on and the chance of such meetings will no doubt be considerably less. Some remote communities take some time to change though, and it is these I will be seeking out.
And, one more quote to finish with..
These summer nights are short. Going to bed before midnight is unthinkable and talk, wine, moonlight and the warm air are often in league to defer it one, two or three hours more. It seems only a moment after falling asleep out of doors that dawn touches one gently on the shoulder, and, completely refreshed, up one gets, or creeps into the shade or indoors for another luxurious couple of hours. The afternoon is the time for real sleep: into the abyss one goes to emerge when the colours begin to revive and the world to breathe again about five o'clock, ready once more for the rigours and pleasures of late afternoon, the evening, and the night.
Its all about balance when writing a book about climate change and endangered species; most of the readership This is a highlight of my reading year.
Its all about balance when writing a book about climate change and endangered species; most of the readership are not beginners, but neither are they experts, we don't want to be bombarded with scientific fact so much that their potential impact is lost. But most importantly, is getting the amount of celebration of these species juxtaposed with the possible soon demise. This is Rundell's strength, previously a prize-winning children's author, she may have found her true home here. She awakens that sense of caring and wonder in us that lies as dormant as the ornate horned frog which gets a name check. As well as being a history of the bonds between animals and humans, there is a reminder too of how little we know about them.
Rundell chooses 21 species, all from Sub-Saharan Africa, more than half are currently threatened with extinction due to pollution and loss of habitat. Every reader will have a favourite, and for me it is the spider, with the crow and the bat close in second place.
Talya Baldwin's illustrations make the hardback into a prized possession on the bookcase. I read the ebook, but will purchase the hardback also. It makes a great present.
Here's a few snippets that I hope indicate that this is a book not to be missed..
94% of all observed sexual behaviour involving giraffes is homo-sexual.
As a giraffe bends down to drink its jugular vein closes off blood to the head stopping it from fainting when it stands up again.
Swifts can only eat what is in the air. A swift with chicks needs as many as a thousand insects a day, storing them in a bulge in the throat.
There were once lemurs the size of small men, but when humans arrived the larger ones were hunted to extinction.
The crow is an Einstein among birds, their brain to body mass ratio is only a little lower than our own. Many can fashion tools. At a theme Park in France, Puy du Fou, they have been trained to pick up litter.
Of the 45000 species of spider, the jumping spider is perhaps the most fiercely brave: where black widows prefer to hide from humans, jumping spiders will advance and investigate. A jumping spider the size of a fingernail can jump upon and kill a large grasshopper. As they leap, they tether a dragline of silk to their jumping-off point; if the jump fails, and the prey escapes, they can winch themselves back up to safety, unhurt, unembarrassed. Their blood, as befits their status, is blue. Recently, scientists at Manchester University trained a jumping spider called Kim to leap on their command. With their eight eyes, the world looks different to them, more riotously technicoloured. It was found that some become fixated on nature programmes. They are much cleverer than we knew.
Bats are virtuosic mathematicians: in order to work out how far away a target is, they assess the time delay between sending out the call and receiving the echo, based on an innate understanding of the speed of sound. A blind entrepreneur in California taught himself to echolocate as a child, with clicks of the tongue; walking through suburban California he is able to detect trees and walls, and ride a bicycle, navigating from a picture of the world built in pulses.
and, on aphrodisiacs…
Oysters, for instance, are made up of water, protein, salt, zinc, iron and tiny amounts of calcium and potassium: they’re no more an aphrodisiac than a vitamin pill drowned in salt water, but they look suggestive. We have in the past given sexual potency, haphazardly, to chocolate, asparagus, carrots, honey, nettles, mustard and sparrows.
I must declare some bias in reviewing this book, in that I live in the area, and know most of the sites the author refers to in Naddle, Swindale and HI must declare some bias in reviewing this book, in that I live in the area, and know most of the sites the author refers to in Naddle, Swindale and Haweswater well - or at leasr I thought I knew them well. There is one thing that Schofield doesn't address in the narrative though, that this is, if you like, unfashionable Lakes, we don't get very many visitors. There isn't the infrastructure of pubs, cafes, souvenir and outdoor shops, the nearest are at least a 40 minute drive away. As well as I hope this book does, and it has made the Wainwright Longlist, purely selfishly, I hope it doesn't result in a huge influx of visitors to the area. It is an extremely beautiful area, and most readers will want to visit having read this, let's hope they just don't all come at once.. From golden eagles, to the submerging of villages for the construction of the reservoir, to the Corpse Road, this serves as a monument to the history of the area, though its raison d'etre is the story of Schofield and his team at the RSPB as they attempt to recover the area to its former glory. Achieving any sort of change on the Mardale and Bampton Commons has been immensely difficult because of the various commoners associations and their tendency towards inertia; believing that what has been the situation for the past 70 years, is what has always been there. The team's achievements, particularly on Mardale Common, where sheep numbers have been reduced, cattle and fell pony numbers have been increased, are fascinating to read about. I have read quite a few books about rewilding recently, almost all of which contain valuable snippets of information, but very few stand out, as this one does, in that is is gripping and readable throughout. This is very much to Schofield's credit. Its a fine balancing act to equally interest beginners to the subject, those with no experience of the Lake District fells, and people like me, who know it well and have a keen interest in rewilding. ...more
This is well set out, initially an abstract chapter on Monbiot's research prior to writing the novel, then a series of visits to a mix of farmers and This is well set out, initially an abstract chapter on Monbiot's research prior to writing the novel, then a series of visits to a mix of farmers and scientists who have set up exemplar projects, and then a summary of his findings, and indeed, a manifesto for the future.
Here's a couple of clips..
If you make a dedicated round-trip of over 6.7 kilometres to buy your vegetables directly from the farm that grows them you counteract, on average, all the emissions you save by avoiding the carbon costs of storage, packing, transport to a regional food hub, then delivery of the vegetables to your doorstep.
and
Human habitations, we learn, cover 1 per cent of the world’s land surface. Crops cover 12 per cent. Areas given over to grazing farm animals account for 28 per cent of the world’s land. Only 15 per cent is protected for nature. And that 28 per cent given to grazing animals? It delivers just 1 per cent of the world’s protein.
Monbiot is known for saying unpopular things, and in the last part of the book he is especially forthright and outspoken. All of his points make sense to me, but he will no doubt, make many fresh enemies in the current farming industry. My criticism is that his stubborn stance, with no sign of compromise, just makes the distance between him and his detractors even greater. In another book shortlisted for the Wainwright Conservation Prize, Wild Fell: Fighting For Nature On A Lake District Hill Farm, Schofield dedicates a chapter to a visit to one of the farmers who has fiercely attacked him on Twitter and looks at his point of view also. There's no sign of that here.
We can now contemplate the end of most farming, the most destructive force ever to have been unleashed by humans. We can envisage the beginning of a new era. In which we no longer need to sacrifice the living world on the altar of our appetites. We cab resolve the greatest dilemma with which we have ever been confronted, and feed the world without devouring the planet.
Its powerful stuff. Some will say that it needs to be, but I'm more in the Schofield / compromise camp of small steps.. ...more
I don't want to read a personal memoir. I was unaware it was. The book promises to be about restoration in the natural world. I am prepared to read a I don't want to read a personal memoir. I was unaware it was. The book promises to be about restoration in the natural world. I am prepared to read a little of the author's life and background, but there is too much. I had hoped to read about nature, and the processes involved in preserving and re-establishing. Too little of what I read was such writing. ...more
This was my fifth of the seven books shortlisted for the Wainwright Conservation Prize, and the fourth most impressive, just above a book on a similarThis was my fifth of the seven books shortlisted for the Wainwright Conservation Prize, and the fourth most impressive, just above a book on a similar topic, The Insect Crisis: The Fall of the Tiny Empires That Run the World.
Though Goulson’s approach is different to Milman, he falls into the same traps, in that the book is crammed with facts and statistics, and that is very much to the detriment of the reading experience.
I admire his research, but as something only a little more than a beginner in this field, I was soon overwhelmed, and soon after it becomes all too much, and interest is lost.
Quality conservation writing this is not, though it is an impressively researched piece of work.
There’s a positive though over the Milman book, Goulson chooses a rare and endanger insect to write about for two of three pages at the end of each chapter, and this is the highlight. ...more
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