Birdscapes: Birds in Our Imagination and Experience

Birders are always asking questions. Most commonly, it is “What bird is that?” Good birders then ask the follow-up question: “Why is that a ____?” Beyond identification, sometimes you want to know what a particular bird is doing, or why it’s doing it. One of the great things about birding is that there will always be unanswered questions.

But there are also many unasked questions. I hadn’t realized there were so many pertinent questions about birding I have never thought to ask. I hadn’t realized it, that is, until Jeremy Mynott asks them in Birdscapes.

This is a difficult book to summarize, and the author, unsurprisingly, has done a much better job than I could:

[This book] is about our experience of birds: the reasons why we are attracted to them, the ways we encounter and describe them, and the significance they have in our lives.

He does this largely by asking and attempting to answer questions about birds and our responses to them. These range from identification to conservation issues…well, again I think it best if I defer to the examples the author gives in the first chapter:

• What are our favourite birds and why? Are there charismatic species (or just special experiences)?
• By what right and on what grounds do conservation bodies such as the RSPB (Royal Society for the Preservation of Birds) and the Audubon societies decide which species to privilege and “invest in”?
• Why are rare birds so important to birdwatchers when rarity is obviously just relative to time and place (gannets in London, tufted ducks in Central Park, swallows in December)?
• Why does the act of identification play such a large part in the experience? And why is that more about species than individuals?
• How much is what we see determined by what we know? And why do we make such bizarre mistakes (the cases of the Spanish crop-sprayer and the Scilly cowpat)?
• Does our concern with lists and counting indicate something we should worry about in ourselves? Is this acquisition or experience?
• How does the beauty of a bird differ from that of a butterfly, a tree, or a landscape?
• Can you enjoy a bird’s song just as much if you don’t know what it is? (Could anyone mistake a nightingale?)
• Why is it so satisfying to see the first swallow or swift of the year?
• Do birds “belong” in certain landscapes and help to define them?
• Do names matter, and are some bird names better or more “real” than others? (Why does the cuckoo seem to speak so many different European languages?)
• Why have birds been so important in augury, folklore, and literature? (And why particular birds such as eagles, owls, and cranes?)
• Is there some third realm between sentimentality and science in which we can relate to birds for what they are?

Mynott’s exploration of these topics is insightful and fascinating, using examples from such disparate sources as literature, TV (even Monty Python!), music, and personal experience. He brings up many things that I have never considered, and puts into words ideas and feelings that I have not been able to express (or at least not nearly as well as he expresses them).

A good example is the “Rarity Value” chapter, which deals with the sometimes-contentious topic of listing. He examines many facets of this issue, including some that have been mentioned many times elsewhere, such as this observation: “[Some birders] may desperately want to have seen some celebrated rarity like the Central Park tufted duck…and may travel miles to do so at great personal cost, but they may not want to examine it too closely or prolong the experience.” Anyone who has been birding for very long has noticed that behavior in others, and quite likely has been guilty of it themselves (I know I have). But Mynott, while not defending this behavior, reminds us that people do this all the time in other situations. He gives the example of the throngs of tourists that crowd around the Mona Lisa in the Louvre, but many of which stick around only long enough to snap a picture.

This is definitely not a light, quick read. But that’s not because the writing is heavy and ponderous. On the contrary, I found it smooth and quite witty at times. However, the author’s questions deserve some thoughtful consideration. Although Mynott attempts to provide some answers to the questions he poses, you, the reader, are free to come to your own conclusions. And that is perfectly fine; many of these topics are subjective, there are no right or wrong answers. For some, there may not be an answer at all!

This is not a heavily illustrated book, but a limited number of photographs and illustrations are put to good use, showing some birds, places, and things mentioned in the text. Black-and-white illustrations are scattered throughout the text in addition to eight color plates bound together in the middle of the book.

Recommendation

Birdscapes has much in common with Jonathan Rosen’s The Life of the Skies (see my review for more about this fantastic book). Not least among these similarities is that it makes you think. That alone is reason enough to recommend this book. But by making you contemplate birds and your experience of them, it may also help you to enjoy birding even more.

Check out the publisher’s site to read the first chapter, listen to an interview with the author, and more.