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4.53 AVERAGE
4.53 AVERAGE
informative
slow-paced
Content Warnings
Moderate: Animal death
Minor: Animal cruelty
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
medium-paced
Leven met vogels. Door: Len Howard.
Dankzij het uitermate fascinerende boek Het vogelhuis, van de geweldige Eva Meijer, leerde ik Len Howard kennen. Howard die stierf voor ik geboren werd maar wiens 2 boeken nog steeds aanraders en must reads zijn. Eerst was er Vogels als huisgenoten en nu, 3 jaar later, kunnen we ook genieten van Leven met vogels. Dank u uitgeverij Cossee!
Howard was geen biologe, noch ornithologe, maar leerde de wereld veel meer over vogels dan ieder ander. Omdat zij haar leven aan hen wijdde, heel letterlijk: zij opende haar deuren en ramen voor hen en liet de vogels deel uitmaken van haar dagelijkse leven in en om haar huis. Ze verkreeg hun vertrouwen, observeerde hen met nauwlettende bik en schreef er 2 prachtige, hartveroverende boeken over.
De vogels in je tuin (of in het park, bos,..) zullen nooit meer hetzelfde zijn na het lezen van Howard’s boeken. Je leert hen niet enkel als vogels kennen, niet alleen maar als soort (koolmees, merel, pimpelmees,…) maar echt als individu. Want dat zijn ze ook, net als mensen. De soorten verschillen van elkaar maar de individuen ook. Ze hebben eigen geluiden, houdingen, voorkeuren voor eten en verschillen ook qua interesse en intelligentie. Koolmees Ster steekt er qua intellect ver bovenuit: zij leert zelfs tellen!
Maar elke vogel an sich heeft wel een eigenaardigheid of slimmigheidje: de ene vader ‘paneert’ de stukjes kaas in broodkruim voor hij ze aan zijn jongen voedert, de andere weet op voorhand dat er een voedselschaarste aankomt en jaagt soortgenoten op voorhand al weg uit haar territorium, de vooruitziende vader vijlt twee weken voor zijn jongen geboren worden een stekel van zijn snavel om beter de baby’s te kunnen voederen.
Fascinerend, betoverend mooi, hartverscheurend ontroerend en soms ook immens triest. Maar oh zo boeiend en oh zo belangrijk. We moeten leren dat dieren net als mensen zijn - om het met de Fabeltjeskrant te zeggen. Ze zijn intelligent, hebben een taal onder elkaar en een taal naar mensen toe, ze zijn vooruitziend en empathisch. We kunnen nog zo veel van hen leren, we moeten hen veel meer beschermen en respecteren.
Len Howard schrijft boeken die je leven veranderen. Fan!
I seem to be making a tradition of this, but this is yet another book I picked up as research material for my novel project, that turned out to be a marvel. Maybe research is only pretext for me to step far out of my usual reading circles, because this one certainly was. I have to confess I know little about birds. Crows I know, but maybe it's ravens I'm thinking of. Sparrows, I surely do. Right? Maybe all speedy little birds are sparrows to my dull eyes. You see where this is going.
So, as a bird ignorant, I found this book through a mention in Eva Meijer's 'Animal Languages', another gem unearthed by research. I got a sense of some of the themes in this book, but it was a while before I got my hands on a physical copy - an actual antique published in the fifties, that came with coffee stains, dog ears and an alluring old-book-must.
The themes I expected were there. In Len Howard's own words, this book is a collection of bird biographies - or excerpts from them; towards the latter third of the book, there are a handful of general observations. Isn't 'bird biographies' such a delightful turn of phrase? In two charming words, seemingly innocuous, it challenges generations of orthodoxy. Birds are individuals, Len Howard says, with thinking minds of their own. While there is something to be gleaned from general studies of a whole species, or groups of species, there is so much lost. Yes, all Great Tits nest in spring, generally mate for life, and like worms and spiders and such. Yes, most humans have sex for pleasure, and organise themselves into social pecking orders. But if all analysis is done at such a level, would you ever hear of Star, the genius Great Tit, that learnt basic arithmetic purely out of her own curiosity, the only one among the hundreds of Great Tits in Howard's Bird Cottage? Would you ever hear of Bottom the blackbird that helped an oblivious fledgling of another brood escape a prowling cat? A rare incident that would probably go unremarked because you would not recognise that Bottom was not the parent of the fledgling at all. As humans, we bristle at being reduced to biological or cultural stereotypes. Birds might not quite have the range of individual expressions humans do, but they are individuals, and they are not automatons. Even among their deepest biological imperatives - with mating, feeding, nesting and such - the range of individual behaviours is too large to be reduced to the functioning of automata, Len Howard insists. She bristles at drawing conclusions from behaviours shown by caged birds in a lab - is it surprise, she asks, that terrified, confined animals show little more than instinctive behaviours?
I needed little persuasion, and maybe you don't either. You've seen dogs and cats, and their individual personalities, and this is not a leap too far. But remember, this book was written in the height of the Skinnerian behaviorist era, a time when Jane Goodall's temerity to name the great apes led to a furore, as if mindless lesser beings were being improperly elevated. Remember that this was not long ago at all. And remember that your friends who don't have dogs and cats still might think you're an idiot for ascribing imaginary human qualities to simple beasts. This book is still timely for its themes, and its gentle, relentless persuasion.
But the themes aren't what elevated this book to a marvel. I spoke of bird biographies, but quickly switched to speaking in generalisations, of themes and messaging. The irony. But these are biographies, and like good biographies, they sweep you along the tides of a life lived, with its joys and sorrows, highs and lows, successes and failures. Star's life, nine long years, a life where her dedication to learning numbers was as much a constant as brooding and nesting. I marvelled at her genius, but I also smiled at her pluckiness and at her foresight. I was saddened when she lost her mate, and moved to tears when she was finally taken by a cat - the merciless antagonist that lurked behind most of the pages in this book. And when her life was eulogised in the course of a page, a sort of melancholic fondness swept over me, because despite her tragic end, she lived a long, flourishing life and did things no other Great Tits did. Len Howard's love for the natural world, its purity and strength, suffused every page, and that might have had something to do with it too. It was a kind love, that carried me through the many hardships the protagonists faced along the way, which I might otherwise have struggled to, unprepared as I was for the visceral power of bird biographies.
At the same time, I started to come to terms with my inadequacy. I am unlikely to ever have the sort of intimate relationship with wild birds Len Howard did, and only something like it would ever make me anywhere near capable of forging relationships with individual birds. It would seem an irony then that at the end of a book of bird biographies, all I'll likely develop is an interest in ornithology that will never go beyond biological stereotypes. Still, I feel something has shifted in me. While I might not never tell one Great Tit from another, the story of Star, brave and clever, would linger in my heart. And keep me grateful that in a world where if birds are noticed at all, they're only noticed as a featureless mass, a Len Howard exists. I'm grateful that this book exists. For that reason, while this book is not perfect - in parts, it lacks 'narrative tension' if I may abuse that phrase - this deserves a full five stars.
So, as a bird ignorant, I found this book through a mention in Eva Meijer's 'Animal Languages', another gem unearthed by research. I got a sense of some of the themes in this book, but it was a while before I got my hands on a physical copy - an actual antique published in the fifties, that came with coffee stains, dog ears and an alluring old-book-must.
The themes I expected were there. In Len Howard's own words, this book is a collection of bird biographies - or excerpts from them; towards the latter third of the book, there are a handful of general observations. Isn't 'bird biographies' such a delightful turn of phrase? In two charming words, seemingly innocuous, it challenges generations of orthodoxy. Birds are individuals, Len Howard says, with thinking minds of their own. While there is something to be gleaned from general studies of a whole species, or groups of species, there is so much lost. Yes, all Great Tits nest in spring, generally mate for life, and like worms and spiders and such. Yes, most humans have sex for pleasure, and organise themselves into social pecking orders. But if all analysis is done at such a level, would you ever hear of Star, the genius Great Tit, that learnt basic arithmetic purely out of her own curiosity, the only one among the hundreds of Great Tits in Howard's Bird Cottage? Would you ever hear of Bottom the blackbird that helped an oblivious fledgling of another brood escape a prowling cat? A rare incident that would probably go unremarked because you would not recognise that Bottom was not the parent of the fledgling at all. As humans, we bristle at being reduced to biological or cultural stereotypes. Birds might not quite have the range of individual expressions humans do, but they are individuals, and they are not automatons. Even among their deepest biological imperatives - with mating, feeding, nesting and such - the range of individual behaviours is too large to be reduced to the functioning of automata, Len Howard insists. She bristles at drawing conclusions from behaviours shown by caged birds in a lab - is it surprise, she asks, that terrified, confined animals show little more than instinctive behaviours?
I needed little persuasion, and maybe you don't either. You've seen dogs and cats, and their individual personalities, and this is not a leap too far. But remember, this book was written in the height of the Skinnerian behaviorist era, a time when Jane Goodall's temerity to name the great apes led to a furore, as if mindless lesser beings were being improperly elevated. Remember that this was not long ago at all. And remember that your friends who don't have dogs and cats still might think you're an idiot for ascribing imaginary human qualities to simple beasts. This book is still timely for its themes, and its gentle, relentless persuasion.
But the themes aren't what elevated this book to a marvel. I spoke of bird biographies, but quickly switched to speaking in generalisations, of themes and messaging. The irony. But these are biographies, and like good biographies, they sweep you along the tides of a life lived, with its joys and sorrows, highs and lows, successes and failures. Star's life, nine long years, a life where her dedication to learning numbers was as much a constant as brooding and nesting. I marvelled at her genius, but I also smiled at her pluckiness and at her foresight. I was saddened when she lost her mate, and moved to tears when she was finally taken by a cat - the merciless antagonist that lurked behind most of the pages in this book. And when her life was eulogised in the course of a page, a sort of melancholic fondness swept over me, because despite her tragic end, she lived a long, flourishing life and did things no other Great Tits did. Len Howard's love for the natural world, its purity and strength, suffused every page, and that might have had something to do with it too. It was a kind love, that carried me through the many hardships the protagonists faced along the way, which I might otherwise have struggled to, unprepared as I was for the visceral power of bird biographies.
At the same time, I started to come to terms with my inadequacy. I am unlikely to ever have the sort of intimate relationship with wild birds Len Howard did, and only something like it would ever make me anywhere near capable of forging relationships with individual birds. It would seem an irony then that at the end of a book of bird biographies, all I'll likely develop is an interest in ornithology that will never go beyond biological stereotypes. Still, I feel something has shifted in me. While I might not never tell one Great Tit from another, the story of Star, brave and clever, would linger in my heart. And keep me grateful that in a world where if birds are noticed at all, they're only noticed as a featureless mass, a Len Howard exists. I'm grateful that this book exists. For that reason, while this book is not perfect - in parts, it lacks 'narrative tension' if I may abuse that phrase - this deserves a full five stars.