Wood Lit - Summer 2006
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Faith in Nature: Environmentalism as Religious Quest
This is a book that cannot easily be reduced to a brief review. It defies such review because it is itself a review of the writings, thinkers, and doers of the American environmental movement and their historical roots in science, philosophy, and religion. In the author’s words, it “examines environmentalism, its roots in the culture, and its development as a movement in religious terms – as a way of accepting the universe – in order to think about its foundations and the source and depth of its passions.” Central to Dunlap’s study is the notion that if, in our scientific and rational age, “environmentalism strikes to the level of religion, if it speaks to how we should live, then perhaps it has something to say to conventional creeds.”
Dunlap weaves a seamless philosophical trail, from the Enlightenment of the seventeenth century through Romanticism as interpreted by Emerson, to set the stage for all who were to later shape the modern environmental movement. All the actors are present, from Thoreau and Muir to Rachael Carson, Gifford Pinchot, Aldo Leopold, Barry Commoner, and Edward Abbey, to mention only a few of the many Dunlop casts in his quest to understand “environmentalism as an expression of the human impulse toward religion....”
The first two chapters – “Newton’s Disciples” and “Emerson’s Children” – are a complex analysis of the roots of environmentalism in reason and science as expressed in the conservation movement that accepted America’s commitment to progress and growth, tempered by the American fascination with “Nature” as expressed by “the first nature saints,” Thoreau and Muir.
He then explores Wilderness as “one of environmentalism’s first causes” and examines environmentalism’s “development of religious values” from its beginning in the 1960s to the present. The final chapter – “Conclusion: ‘Quo Vadis?’”– weaves a fascinating path into the future, suggesting that “seeing environmentalism in religious terms would focus . . . on what ought to be done, help environmentalists confront their opponents, provide a way to make common cause with outside groups, and allow environmentalists to appreciate more clearly the roots of their own movement.”
While this is a deeply philosophical essay, Dunlap is far more than a historian of environmental philosophy. He is a clear-eyed and practical critic of the institutions that environmentalism has spawned, succinctly describing their roles in defining the diverse perspectives of American culture toward nature and natural resource development. His “review” is remarkably objective and balanced. Yet his objectivity never obscures his relentless search for the religious tendencies in the wider movement.
This is an important book for the times in which we live. It offers something for everyone to disdain, especially those demanding a specific way to environmental salvation – be it resource management, wilderness preservation, energy independence, or the end of consumerism. Nor does he claim many victories for the movement in its crusade to change the world. But no one can deny Dunlop’s faith that “environmentalism has embarked on a great enterprise” that “seeks dreams large enough to inspire individuals and wise enough to guide humanity, dreams that speak to our lives and the wonderful world in which we live them.”
Reviewed by Carl Reidel
© 2006 by the author; this article may not be copied or reproduced without the author's consent.
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Peterson Field Guides/Ferns of Northeastern and Central North America, Second Edition
Anyone familiar with the 1956 Boughton Cobb fern book in the Peterson field guide series will feel at home reading this new edition. The overall arrangement – text on the left, illustration on the right – is just like the old one, and most of the illustrations are the same, except they are better and brighter. The originals, by Laura Louise Foster, were rescanned and now are not as faint as before. Plus, the book is printed on shinier paper, which makes the drawings more vivid. A few new, full-page illustrations have been added, plus there are more of the little close-ups of sub-leaflets and the differently shaped spore cases and their covers, called “indusia.” These are the features that need to be examined closely if the fronds of the ferns you are trying to identify look too much alike.
As the 100 or so color photographs confirm, ferns are beautiful, and as a group, they have made up for their limited range in color by inventing a stunning variety of elegant shapes. Many of the photos are helpful additions to the illustrations in the identification process.
There is a key to the genera in the front of the book and a key to each of the species within a genus at the beginning of the appropriate section. Each genus gets an interesting overview before we proceed to the species level. The origin of many of the Latin names is given, which can often make remembering easier: the species name for ostrich fern, struthiopteris, is from the Greek struthos for ostrich and Latin pteris for fern. And you can add to this that the fronds of this large fern narrow abruptly at the tip, not unlike an ostrich’s feathers.
Not so easy to digest is that the inclusion of a fern in a particular family is no longer reliable. Fern families are in a state of flux, and, in addition, many Latin genus and species names have been changed.
The silvery glade fern used to be silvery spleenwort, which slid nicely off the tongue, and, in Latin, it most recently was Athyrium thelypteroides, a name you could feel proud to get your tongue around. Now, nothing is the same, and (for the time being) it is to be called Deparia acrostichoides.
The name-changers have really run roughshod over the clubmosses, with only one of the 11 clubmosses in the genus called Lycopodium in the earlier edition allowed to keep its old name. The authors predict that in the future, DNA analysis of ferns will result in another round of shuffling them from one genus or family to another. I hope that process takes something close to the 50 years that have elapsed since Boughton Cobb catalogued the ferns some 50 years ago. It would discourage many amateurs to have to replace Diphasiastrum complanatum, for instance, with yet another name soon after getting that exiled Lycopodium reliably filed in memory.
Elizabeth Farnsworth and Cheryl Lowe, two pteridologists from the New England Wild Flower Society, have greatly expanded the descriptions of the ferns. Now, for $20, you get 404 pages of text, over half again as many pages as the original $12.95 book, and lots – as opposed to zero – color. The book is nicely designed, detailed, comprehensive, and only a little bit too big and heavy to slip into a pocket.
Reviewed by Virginia Barlow
© 2006 by the author; this article may not be copied or reproduced without the author's consent.
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Secret Lives of Common Birds: Enjoying Bird Behavior Through the Seasons
As an ornithologist, many times I have witnessed an unusual bird behavior or been astonished by a bird’s beauty. And each time, I have muttered to myself, “if only I had a photograph of that.” Author and photographer Marie Read has captured those moments and more in her new book, Secret Lives of Common Birds: Enjoying Bird Behavior Through the Seasons.
With over 80 photographs, nearly every turn of the 95 pages made me exclaim to anyone within earshot, “Wow, you have to see this.” My favorite photo is of a black-capped chickadee sipping from an icicle. The image received a Nature’s Best Highly Honored award in 2002.
When I asked Read how she captured such a memorable image, she said, “I actually pre-focused on the icicle and waited for the chickadee to show up. The chickadees were coming in to a feeder that happened to be in the same tree where a branch had broken and the sap froze into an icicle. Every once in a while, a chickadee visiting the feeder would also sip from the icicle. I had my camera, telephoto lens, and flash ready, and I sat for many hours over several days to get the shot.”
It made me wonder just how many shots she had to take to capture that amazing image. “I might get 25 percent of shots that are keepers if they’re just portraits or if the bird isn’t moving much,” she said. “Far fewer – say 10 percent – if it’s action, and maybe only 1 percent to capture the perfect mix of peak action and perfect pose and illumination. Remember, though, that it’s not only the number of images you take, but the fact that you are there and aware enough to be ready for the action when it occurs!”
These are great photos, and they are accompanied by text that quickly gives the reader key information on bird behavior and natural history.
The book is organized by seasons, with each turn of the page presenting another interesting topic. Spring, Read’s favorite time of the year for bird behavior, has the most topics. She explains everything from bird song and wild turkey courtship to nest-building and mating.
Ever wonder how those long-legged great blue herons copulate? Although she doesn’t have a photograph of this private ritual, Read’s great description helps you conjure up your own image. How do birds drink? Most of them use the “dip and tip method,” as Read refers to the motion of the bird’s bill. But it surprised me to learn that doves and pigeons are among the few birds that can actually suck water up in their bills.
In my work, I get a lot of phone calls from curious birdwatchers. Read has great pictures and text explaining some of the most commonly observed situations: Why are cardinals constantly banging on my window? There is a bald-headed bird at my feeder – is it sick? I have a bird in my driveway with a broken wing but I can’t catch it. What should I do?
My only stylistic complaint is the overuse of exclamation points. Nearly half of the pages with text contain them! While it surely reflects her contagious passion and excitement, it can be distracting to the reader.
For me, the photographs outshine the text. I wanted to know so much more about the secret lives of these birds than Read divulged, and maybe that is one of the best things about the book. It will get you off your chair and out the door with a pair of binoculars and opened eyes.
And if you are inspired to carry a camera along, I asked Read what she would recommend to an aspiring bird photographer. She said, “Your backyard is the best place to start bird photography. Practice. Be there . . . again and again. Buy the best equipment you can afford; autofocus and image stabilization do make a difference. Use a tripod. It’s the best way to see a big improvement in the sharpness of you pictures . . . gosh I could write a whole book.” I think she should.
Reviewed by Kent McFarland
© 2006 by the author; this article may not be copied or reproduced without the author's consent.
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