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320 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 2004
One of the most vulgar, brutal, and ignorant men I ever knew was a sharp collector and an excellent taxidermist. Collecting stands much in the same relation to ornithology that the useful and indispensable office of an apothecary bears to the duties of a physician. A field-naturalist is always more or less of a collector; the latter is sometimes found to know almost nothing of natural history worth knowing. The true ornithologist goes out to study birds alive and destroys some of them simply because that is the only way of learning their structure and technical characters. There is much more about a bird than can be discovered in its dead body, — how much more, then, than can be found out from its stuffed skin! In my humble opinion the man who only gathers birds, as a miser money, to swell his cabinet, and that other man who gloats, as miser-like, over the same hoard, both work on a plane far beneath where the enlightened naturalist stands. One looks at Nature, and never knows that she is beautiful ; the other knows she is beautiful, as even a corpse may be; the naturalist catches her sentient expression, and knows how beautiful she is! I would have you to know and love her; for fairer mistress never swayed the heart of man. Aim high! — press on, and leave the half-way house of mere collectorship far behind in your pursuit of a delightful study, nor fancy the closet its goal.
If life is, as some hold it to be, a vast melancholy ocean over which ships more or less sorrow-laden continually pass and ply, yet there lie here and there upon it isles of consolation on to which we may step out and for a time forget the winds and waves. One of these we may call Bird-isle — the island of watching and being entertained by the habits and humours of birds — and upon this one, for with the others I have here nothing to do, I will straightway land, inviting such as may care to, to follow me. I will speak of birds only, or almost only, as I have seen them, and I must hope that this plan, which is the only one I have found myself able to follow, will be accepted as an apology for the absence of much which, not having seen but only read of, I therefore say nothing about. []
It matters not how one may limit it, the word "Observations" has a terrific sound. Let a man say merely that he watched a robin (for instance) doing something, and no one will shrink from him; but if he talks about his "Observations on the Robin - Redbreast" then, let these have been ever so restricted, and even though he may forbear to call the bird by its Latin name, he must expect to pay the penalty. The very limitations will have something severe — smacking of precise scientific distinction — about them, and the implied preference for English in such a case will appear affected and to be a clumsy attempt, merely, to make himself popular. Therefore, I will not call my book " Observations on," etc. I have watched birds only, I have not observed them. [p. X]
This book will have no scientific value. Those who have studied birds will not find in it anything that they do not already know; those who do not care for birds will not be interested in the subject [...]. My observations have been made for recreation; in search of pleasure, not of knowledge; and they have been pursued only in so far as the[y] ministered to the pleasure of holidays and home life [...]. One who reviews pleasant experiences and puts them on record increases the value of them to himself; he fathers up his own feelings and reflections, and is thereby better able to understand and to measure the fullness of what he has enjoyed. Thus even those of us who have nothing new to tell, may have something that is fresh to say.
Find our your potential rival's line, and play the opposite for all you're worth.
Thus, if he is an acknowledged tally-hunter, you must use the scientific gambit, 'After all, it's only the common birds that really count, isn't it?' and continually hold up the party by calling their attention to Robins or House Sparrows... If after five minutes observation the Robin gives a perfunctory peck at its plumage, you murmur, 'Ah, an intention movement!' make profuse notes, and add, to the air in general, 'I must write to Tinbergen about this.' A slight hesitation before the Tinbergen should make it clear that among your real associates you would say 'Niko'.
On the other hand, if your rival is a serious ornithologist... you cry 'I'm frankly pot-hunting today; leave the sparrows alone for once, old chap and come and see some real birds! Tally-ho!'... You should manage to convince the party that your rival is an introverted spoil-sport living in an ivory tower.