What I love about Annie Dillard is that she gets down on her hands and knees—in the mud, the stream, the grasses, the forest floor—and really examines nature. She notices the smallest intricacies in nature and wonders not only “Why?” but more importantly, “Why is it beautiful?” The pleasure in each intricacy that Dillard observes is found in the fact that “it all flows so freely wild, like the creek, that it all surges in such a free, fringed tangle. Freedom is the world’s water and weather, the world’s nourishment freely given, its soil and sap: and the creator loves pizzazz.” For Dillard, part of this pizzazz lies in birds and birdsong. Throughout Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, she is constantly referring to the different bird species that live near her, particularly the mockingbird, wild goose, hummingbird, sparrow, goldfinch, robin, and coot. Dillard often references birdsong and migration.
In the very beginning of the book, Dillard describes an experience she had: “About five years ago I saw a mockingbird make a straight vertical descent from the roof gutter of a four-story building. It was an act as careless and spontaneous as the curl of a stem or the kindling of a star.” Right before the mockingbird is dashed to the ground, it unfolds its wings and soars away. Dillard writes, “…beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.” Throughout the book, Dillard keeps returning to this scene. Time after time, when describing some act of grace or beauty in nature, she concludes by commenting on the mockingbird’s freefall. The scene, remembered from five years previous to Dillard’s writing, obviously stood out in her mind and was important enough to return to throughout her book. The mockingbird comes to represent not only beauty and grace in nature, but also wonder: why did the mockingbird plunge from the rooftop? But more importantly, why did Dillard find it so beautiful?
Dillard continually finds this beauty in nature, and she particularly finds beauty in the small things. Insects and birds, the smallest creatures, are constantly referred to and described in the book. It is as if Dillard is trying to see the world from smaller eyes: the universe is immediately bigger and filled with so much more. Each detail is given particular attention. Dillard is not afraid to spend time observing nature; in fact, she tries her best to keep still so that fleeting birds do not fly away at her movement. When observing a coot in the creek, Dillard runs from tree to tree each time the bird dives below the surface; she tries to stay behind the trees so the bird will not notice her, and if she gets caught in the open, she pretends to be a tree herself. Similarly, when observing a green heron, Dillard writes “…my only weapon was stillness, and my only wish its continued presence before my eyes.” She watches the green heron eat its dinner for half an hour before the bird “winged slowly away upstream, around a bend, and out of sight.”
Dillard writes, “A bird’s feather is an intricacy; the bird is a form; the bird in space in relation to air, forest, continent, and so on, is a thread in a texture.” In this statement, Dillard is expressing the essential part that birds play in the environment. Each bird is a woven thread in an embroidered landscape; each is an integral intricacy in Dillard’s world. “Fish gotta swim and bird gotta fly,” Dillard writes. It doesn’t matter why, but it matters that we are there to witness it and that we find it beautiful.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
A Sand County Almanac
The first time I read A Sand County Almanac, a passage about wild geese returning in the spring stood out to me. While I only knew geese as pests, being required to constantly clean their fecal matter off the beach at work, I was surprised to read such a glorified passage about the birds. “Our geese are home again!” Leopold proclaims, and refers to their clamorous return as “a wild poem dropped from the murky skies upon the muds of March.” In this essay, the return of the geese to Leopold’s farm represent the beginning of spring; they are a lively and happy reminder of the changing seasons. Leopold watches them “tumble out of the sky like maple leaves” and sympathizes with the “lone honkers,” those geese that lost their families over the winter. His love for the birds is seen as Leopold measures “the amplitude of our spring…by the number of geese that stop.” Leopold returns to write about geese in several more passages, referring to their “enthusiasm for high water” in “this new and watery world”; their solitude, “who have seen more kinds and degrees of aloneness than I have”; their sounds in the early morning, “invisible, but coming on.” Leopold keeps returning to the subject of goose migration and their presence on his farm, showing that the bird is an important species within his landscape.
In addition to writing about geese, Leopold writes about the rough-legged hawk, woodcock, upland plover, field sparrow, robin, indigo bunting, oriole, wren, wood duck, ruffed grouse, partridge, chickadee, and barred owl. There are numerous small references to birds in all seasons on Leopold’s farm, showing that they play an important part in the sights and sounds of the territory. In one passage, Leopold describes a river landscape as “a painting so evanescent that it is seldom viewed at all, except by some wandering deer.” In comparing the scene to a painting, Leopold writes “The work begins with a broad ribbon of silt brushed thinly on the sand of a receding shore. As this dries slowly in the sun, goldfinches bathe in its pools, and deer, herons, killdeers, raccoons, and turtles cover it with a lacework of tracks.” In this passage, several bird species are painted onto the landscape; they become an integral part of the environment and scenery. The same is true with birds throughout A Sand County Almanac. Birds appear in the text during each season that Leopold writes about; their appearance, movement, and sound are all vital to Leopold’s experience in nature.
Leopold also explores the relationship of birds to humans. In an essay titled “65290,” Leopold describes a specific chickadee that he caught and tagged. The chickadee returned to Leopold’s farm for five winters. In this example of ornithological study, Leopold tries to understand the chickadee’s role in the surrounding environment. Leopold becomes attached to the chickadee in a way that humans become attached to their pets; each winter, he wonders if the bird will return. When Leopold concludes the essay, saying that the chickadee has moved on, he writes “And I hope that he still wears my band.” This sentence shows that Leopold has formed a connection with the chickadee; his attachment to the bird is evident in his concern for the bird and his memories of it. Other essays also explore human connections to birds; in an essay titled “Red Lanterns,” Leopold describes partridge hunting. Through hunting, a different form of “birdwatching,” Leopold is able to connect both with the partridge and with the surrounding environment that he and his dog explore. When describing the stream where he hunts, Leopold writes, “No partridge can long absent himself from such a place, nor can I.” Though Leopold is hunting the bird, he also explores connections between himself and the bird, particularly in terms of connection to landscape. In each passage Leopold writes about birds, he is examining the role that the birds play within the landscape on his farm and why such interactions are notable or important to him.
When Leopold writes about the rough-legged hawk, he says “The rough-leg has no opinion why grass grows, but he is well aware that snow melts in order that hawks may again catch mice. He came down out of the Arctic in the hope of thaws, for to him a thaw means freedom from want and fear.” In this simple passage, Leopold is describing a cycle of nature he has witnessed on his farm. The hawk hunts for mice instinctually; in this case, nature does not need a reason to function but does so out of necessity. Leopold, too, “has no opinion why grass grows”, but he recognizes that the birds are an integral part of his landscape. When describing the return of geese to his farm, Leopold writes, “What a dull world if we knew all about geese!” Leopold does not need to know the reasons for the actions of birds, but he is content to observe them and know that they are there. On “misty-autumn daybreaks,” Leopold notes that “what one remembers is the invisible hermit thrush pouring silver chords from impenetrable shadows; the soaring crane trumpeting from behind a cloud; the prairie chicken booming from the mists of nowhere; the quail’s Ave Maria in the hush of dawn.” Birds and bird-song are a central part of Leopold’s environment; they stand out for him in his experience and in his memory.
In addition to writing about geese, Leopold writes about the rough-legged hawk, woodcock, upland plover, field sparrow, robin, indigo bunting, oriole, wren, wood duck, ruffed grouse, partridge, chickadee, and barred owl. There are numerous small references to birds in all seasons on Leopold’s farm, showing that they play an important part in the sights and sounds of the territory. In one passage, Leopold describes a river landscape as “a painting so evanescent that it is seldom viewed at all, except by some wandering deer.” In comparing the scene to a painting, Leopold writes “The work begins with a broad ribbon of silt brushed thinly on the sand of a receding shore. As this dries slowly in the sun, goldfinches bathe in its pools, and deer, herons, killdeers, raccoons, and turtles cover it with a lacework of tracks.” In this passage, several bird species are painted onto the landscape; they become an integral part of the environment and scenery. The same is true with birds throughout A Sand County Almanac. Birds appear in the text during each season that Leopold writes about; their appearance, movement, and sound are all vital to Leopold’s experience in nature.
Leopold also explores the relationship of birds to humans. In an essay titled “65290,” Leopold describes a specific chickadee that he caught and tagged. The chickadee returned to Leopold’s farm for five winters. In this example of ornithological study, Leopold tries to understand the chickadee’s role in the surrounding environment. Leopold becomes attached to the chickadee in a way that humans become attached to their pets; each winter, he wonders if the bird will return. When Leopold concludes the essay, saying that the chickadee has moved on, he writes “And I hope that he still wears my band.” This sentence shows that Leopold has formed a connection with the chickadee; his attachment to the bird is evident in his concern for the bird and his memories of it. Other essays also explore human connections to birds; in an essay titled “Red Lanterns,” Leopold describes partridge hunting. Through hunting, a different form of “birdwatching,” Leopold is able to connect both with the partridge and with the surrounding environment that he and his dog explore. When describing the stream where he hunts, Leopold writes, “No partridge can long absent himself from such a place, nor can I.” Though Leopold is hunting the bird, he also explores connections between himself and the bird, particularly in terms of connection to landscape. In each passage Leopold writes about birds, he is examining the role that the birds play within the landscape on his farm and why such interactions are notable or important to him.
When Leopold writes about the rough-legged hawk, he says “The rough-leg has no opinion why grass grows, but he is well aware that snow melts in order that hawks may again catch mice. He came down out of the Arctic in the hope of thaws, for to him a thaw means freedom from want and fear.” In this simple passage, Leopold is describing a cycle of nature he has witnessed on his farm. The hawk hunts for mice instinctually; in this case, nature does not need a reason to function but does so out of necessity. Leopold, too, “has no opinion why grass grows”, but he recognizes that the birds are an integral part of his landscape. When describing the return of geese to his farm, Leopold writes, “What a dull world if we knew all about geese!” Leopold does not need to know the reasons for the actions of birds, but he is content to observe them and know that they are there. On “misty-autumn daybreaks,” Leopold notes that “what one remembers is the invisible hermit thrush pouring silver chords from impenetrable shadows; the soaring crane trumpeting from behind a cloud; the prairie chicken booming from the mists of nowhere; the quail’s Ave Maria in the hush of dawn.” Birds and bird-song are a central part of Leopold’s environment; they stand out for him in his experience and in his memory.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Three Texts
When I began my thesis proposal, I had three main texts in mind: Walden by Henry David Thoreau, A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold, and Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. I had read Walden and A Sand County Almanac previously, as well as passages from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, so I knew that all three texts contained many references to birds. Set in three different geographic regions, (Walden Pond near Concord, Massachusetts; on a “sand farm” in Wisconsin; and at Tinker Creek in a valley in Virginia’s Blue Ridge, respectively), the three texts describe a variety of bird life found in different regions of North America. The three texts are also classic texts in environmental literature, read widely and covering a time period from 1845 (when Thoreau moved to Walden Pond) to 1949 (when Leopold first published A Sand County Almanac) to 1974 (when Dillard published Pilgrim at Tinker Creek). The time differences between these three major texts may reveal significant changes or similarities in how birds are viewed and treated in environmental writing and American culture through time. I also chose the books for a much simpler reason: they are three of my favorite texts in environmental literature.
Since reading the texts and looking for passages about birds this summer, however, I have not revisited them with more specific ideas for my thesis in mind. My next three blog entries will serve that purpose; in writing about what role the birds play in these texts, I hope to become more focused and discover the role these texts will play in my thesis.
Since reading the texts and looking for passages about birds this summer, however, I have not revisited them with more specific ideas for my thesis in mind. My next three blog entries will serve that purpose; in writing about what role the birds play in these texts, I hope to become more focused and discover the role these texts will play in my thesis.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Why Birds?
My senior thesis is off to a much slower start than I expected. We are now a third of the way through October, and I have yet to create an outline. I have yet to narrow down my 40+ sources. I do not have a thesis statement.
I’m disappointed in myself that I haven’t gotten the ball rolling on this project, because I was, and am, very excited about it. I spent the summer poring through nature anthologies and bird field guides, interested in ornithology, field identification, bird-watching as a hobby, and of course, the beautiful imagery found in nature writing from Dillard to Thoreau to Leopold. Maybe it’s due to my extensive reading over the summer, and my concomitant creation of a bibliography--pages and pages long--that has caused this project to become so overwhelming. I wish I could include it all, but the time is approaching when I must narrow my sources down and discover why I’m really writing about birds.
So why birds? Why did I spend $30 on a Peterson Field Guide to Birds of North America and spend my lifeguarding hours this summer behind a pair of binoculars, looking more at the trees and sky than at the lake? Why am I considering starting a “life list” of birds that I’ve witnessed living in the wild?
The truth is that before I proposed this project, I knew that I wanted to do my senior thesis on environmental literature, but I didn’t know what I wanted my subject to be. I was thinking of choosing a single author, such as John Burroughs, and exploring why his once famed nature writing has now fallen into shadows; I was thinking of comparing authors' ideas of “place” in nature writing. But I chose birds. The idea popped into my head one day, and it just seemed right. I thought to myself “I’m going to take bird symbolism one step further.” Why one step further? Because somehow, birds have become a symbol for my father.
In a speech at my father’s funeral, his friend Chuck McKay said, “He understood the cruelties of nature both in his own life and that of the outdoors, but he also saw the beauty in it all. He understood souls took on different lives and looked to the birds as the ones who were truly free. He now flies there, while we, landlubbers, cannot understand the joy that this may be bringing him.” Birds were also present at the funeral in the songs “Blackbird” covered by Sarah McLachlan and “Birds” by Neil Young; in a traditional Cheyenne Prayer given to my family, in the stanza “I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight”; and in a list my father had compiled of things that were important to him in the years before he died, third from the bottom, “Paddling beneath a bald eagle on the Delaware.”
Birds were important to my dad. I don’t know why. I was never old enough or interested enough in what he was doing to understand why he sat on the couch in the wintertime, facing the glass door where he had a view of the bird feeder in our yard. I wasn’t intrigued enough at that age to want to know the names of the species he knew, but I do remember his excitement at seeing an oriole dart into the bushes or the arrival of the first robins in the spring.
The Great Blue Heron was one of my dad’s favorite birds, and it quickly became my family’s symbol for him after his death. It is always exciting, uplifting, and comforting to see one flying across our yard or poised, still and serene, in a pond or lake.
To take this symbolism one step further, I wanted to read about birds. I wanted to learn about them, historically and scientifically, and find what place they hold in environmental literature. I want to dissect what birds tell us about our natural environment, what they mean for ideals of conservation in our society, and most importantly, what they symbolize for other individuals. Hence, my senior thesis, “Wings and Words”, a work in progress.
I’m disappointed in myself that I haven’t gotten the ball rolling on this project, because I was, and am, very excited about it. I spent the summer poring through nature anthologies and bird field guides, interested in ornithology, field identification, bird-watching as a hobby, and of course, the beautiful imagery found in nature writing from Dillard to Thoreau to Leopold. Maybe it’s due to my extensive reading over the summer, and my concomitant creation of a bibliography--pages and pages long--that has caused this project to become so overwhelming. I wish I could include it all, but the time is approaching when I must narrow my sources down and discover why I’m really writing about birds.
So why birds? Why did I spend $30 on a Peterson Field Guide to Birds of North America and spend my lifeguarding hours this summer behind a pair of binoculars, looking more at the trees and sky than at the lake? Why am I considering starting a “life list” of birds that I’ve witnessed living in the wild?
The truth is that before I proposed this project, I knew that I wanted to do my senior thesis on environmental literature, but I didn’t know what I wanted my subject to be. I was thinking of choosing a single author, such as John Burroughs, and exploring why his once famed nature writing has now fallen into shadows; I was thinking of comparing authors' ideas of “place” in nature writing. But I chose birds. The idea popped into my head one day, and it just seemed right. I thought to myself “I’m going to take bird symbolism one step further.” Why one step further? Because somehow, birds have become a symbol for my father.
In a speech at my father’s funeral, his friend Chuck McKay said, “He understood the cruelties of nature both in his own life and that of the outdoors, but he also saw the beauty in it all. He understood souls took on different lives and looked to the birds as the ones who were truly free. He now flies there, while we, landlubbers, cannot understand the joy that this may be bringing him.” Birds were also present at the funeral in the songs “Blackbird” covered by Sarah McLachlan and “Birds” by Neil Young; in a traditional Cheyenne Prayer given to my family, in the stanza “I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight”; and in a list my father had compiled of things that were important to him in the years before he died, third from the bottom, “Paddling beneath a bald eagle on the Delaware.”
Birds were important to my dad. I don’t know why. I was never old enough or interested enough in what he was doing to understand why he sat on the couch in the wintertime, facing the glass door where he had a view of the bird feeder in our yard. I wasn’t intrigued enough at that age to want to know the names of the species he knew, but I do remember his excitement at seeing an oriole dart into the bushes or the arrival of the first robins in the spring.
The Great Blue Heron was one of my dad’s favorite birds, and it quickly became my family’s symbol for him after his death. It is always exciting, uplifting, and comforting to see one flying across our yard or poised, still and serene, in a pond or lake.
To take this symbolism one step further, I wanted to read about birds. I wanted to learn about them, historically and scientifically, and find what place they hold in environmental literature. I want to dissect what birds tell us about our natural environment, what they mean for ideals of conservation in our society, and most importantly, what they symbolize for other individuals. Hence, my senior thesis, “Wings and Words”, a work in progress.
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