Golden Wings by Pete Dunne, University of Texas Press, $15.95, ISBN 0292716230 Reviewed by Adrian Barnett
鈥淪ET like a black and-white cloud atop a pedestal nest, the bird was beautiful. I was prepared to assert (even to wife Linda burning film not far away) that the Wandering Albatross was the most beautiful thing I鈥檇 ever seen鈥.
Golden Wings is as much about birdwatching as it is about birds. Acutely insightful and very funny, it reads like a joint project by an anthropologist, a poet and a stand-up comedian who, because of differences over the billing, settled on a single pseudonym. Pete Dunne is American and so are most of the subjects in his collection of essays. His themes are universal.
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Amazingly evocative descriptions take us to hidden places such as South Georgia, childhood and a finch鈥檚 eye. He calls up the sadness of favourite haunts paved over and the exultant joy of a rare sighting confirmed. He shares finding peace in a dawn chorus, recalls prey-empathising encounters with disturbingly calm owls, and explores the psychology of the infamous 鈥渟tringer鈥 (someone who identifies birds incorrectly, particularly rarities). The book returns again and again to the Joy of wild things, how binoculars bring intimacy with the natural environment, and how familiarity can bring love rather than contempt.
Spiced with splendidly wry pieces about the language and equipment birders use, their codes of ethics and the motivations that make members of this binocular-toting fraternity consider 4.30 in the morning a standard time of day, his collection of essays is a wonderful bedside book for birders, nature lovers and anyone who enjoys elegant, evocative and piercingly honest writing. It might even help to explain the obsession to an uncomprehending loved one. After reading it, the pre-dawn light may see them groping for binoculars and field guide too.