Earth, Water, and Sky: A Naturalist’s Stories and Sketches (1999; University of Texas Press; 192 pp; 21 black and white drawings; $35.00 hardback; $15.95 paperback), by Paul A. Johnsgard, is a fine collection of 19 articles about birds plus 21 excellent bird drawings by the author, at least one per chapter. In the Preface, the book begins as an autobiography might: “I was born in 1931….” The Preface continues in that vein, explaining how Johnsgard first became interested in birds and why he considers southwestern Nebraska one of his most “favorite places in the world.” Eagerly expecting a similar narrative style for the rest of the book, I was disappointed to find this to be only partially the case.
The chapters in Earth, Wind, and Sky are organized into three major sections, relating to the fact that birds occupy all three of these realms. The introductory essay of each major section is an article that was previously published in the Lincoln Journal-Star newspaper. These introductory essays are personal and deep, much like the Preface. They obviously were chosen and strategically placed to help tie all of the various articles in each section together, and also to provide a sense of wholeness to the book. Half of the remaining 16 articles in the book were previously published in Natural History magazine. As such, they are all of a similar length and written in a fairly impersonal, dispassionate style—the preferred style for scientific writing, and very unlike the Preface or the three introductory essays. The rest of the articles originally appeared in a variety of other similar publications.
The articles in the book’s first major section, entitled “Earth: Stray Feathers in the Dust,” tend to focus on species that spend a majority of their time earthbound. In this section, Johnsgard describes the natural history, behavior, and ecology of species such as grouse, quail, bustards, and pheasants. Of particular note is “The Elusive Tree Quails of Mexico,” originally published in Animals magazine. In this essay, the author’s personality manages to surface quite a bit, resulting in a very informative yet entertaining description of a scientific collecting expedition to Mexico that could easily be considered a travel essay. For example, with plans to return to a small village in the early morning to hear and record captive singing tree quails, Johnsgard writes: “After spending the night at Jacala, we drove back early the next morning. But the disturbance when we arrived, caused by the barking of the omnipresent mongrel dogs, effectively eliminated any hopes of recording the birds.” I had no trouble imagining this scene, as I have encountered a barking mongrel dog a time or two while searching for birds.
Well, before the beginning of the second section of this book, entitled “Water: A River of Time, “I found myself checking the back of the book to see where each upcoming article was originally published, as a clue to the style to be expected. In the introductory essay to this section, Johnsgard compares the lives of rivers to human lives: “They rush madly about, dashing wildly here and there during their youths, gradually becoming more predictable and reliable as they mature, grading into serenity and contemplative majesty in their old age, finally drifting into obscurity and death by merging with some larger river or the sea.” That is the kind of writing that makes it difficult to put a book down. In the next article, “The Evolution of Duck Courtship,” originally published in Natural History, Johnsgard returns to his scientific voice and discusses topics such as sexual selection and how closely related species maintain their genetic integrity. In this chapter, there are two entire pages of drawings showing various duck species in poses during courtship, which also further illustrate Johngard’s great artistic talent combined with his scientific attention to detail and accuracy. This was one of the most interesting and informative chapters in the book. Yet I found myself wishing for additional personal commentary by the author, whether in a chapter preface or as a postscript. Without such commentary, the transition from chapter to chapter, especially when two sequential essays greatly differ in style, can sometimes be rather abrupt.
Earlier I wondered why the chapter about the highly migratory hummingbirds entitled “Glittering Garments of the Rainbow” was included in the “Earth” section of this book, rather than in the last section “Sky: Migrations of the Imagination.” I now found myself wondering why the several chapters about waterfowl were included in the last section, when they could easily have fit into the “Water” section, especially the chapter on sea ducks that only venture onto land for breeding. But it is a small point to make, and probably indicative of why I am not an editor. In any case, this last section follows the pattern established in the previous two. The section opens with a short personal touch in a very emotionally moving introductory essay, followed by five chapters of species profiles. In several of those chapters, especially “Where Have All the Curlews Gone?” and “The Triumphant Trumpeters,” Johnsgard has much more than usual to say about conservation issues.
But nowhere in the book does Johnsgard harp on environmental themes such as the decline of a great number of bird species worldwide, or that those declines are directly attributable to human activities. Instead, he tends to scatter comments referring to declining species throughout the book at appropriate times. For example, in the Preface, Johnsgard quickly relates how “birds sometimes…show us how rapidly a species can disappear from the earth, which also may be a ‘natural’ process, but is one that humans have greatly accelerated throughout the world.” In a later chapter, he writes of the Pribilof Islands and their seabirds that “…are still relatively secure from external threats of human disturbance, potential overharvesting of the marine food chains, and pollution.” In another example, Johnsgard writes of the nearly extinct Eskimo curlew: “The sight of these great shifting clouds of birds…must have been a magical vision that, like the great herds of bison on the Great Plains, has forever vanished from the American scene.” In this way, he manages to unobtrusively convey his conservation message, while alerting the reader to his deep concern.
In my final analysis, I must state that this book is a fine combination of art, personal narrative, and science. The introductory essays and thought-provoking titles to each section tend to tie all of the chapters together, but the book could use more of Johnsgard’s wonderful personal narrative style as added commentary with each chapter. Also, without an overall postscript, the book tends to leave the reader a bit (ahem) up in the air. But to be fair, any collection of articles written for various publications, each with its own editorial style, is likely to suffer from the same difficulties of having the collection read smoothly as a whole. This book, at any rate, should appeal to birders and naturalists as well as hardline scientists—who will be happy to know that Johnsgard once even apologizes for the heinous crime of anthropomorphizing!
Review by Thomas V. Lerczak
[This review was originally published in Illinois Audubon magazine, Summer 2000, Number 273, pages 26-27.]
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