100 books like Man-Eaters of Kumaon

This is one of my favourite books. It is a palimpsest—a serious document about humanity’s effects on the natural world overlaid with Adams’s hilariously absurdist worldview. This book is different from most other popular science books in that it sort of isn’t one; it’s more of a travel book, with Adams acting as the uninformed everyman repeatedly confronted with the realities of an unfolding ecological tragedy and interpreting them as only he could.

Extinction is not an inherently amusing subject, and this book is a sobering account of how much biological diversity we have already lost, yet at the same time, it is painfully funny. For me, Adams’s recounting of his conversation with an Australian snake venom expert is worth the price of admission on its own.

I am a biologist and I have a passion, a deep love indeed, of the natural world. I always have. It boosts me and nurtures me–body, mind and spirit. But at the moment, with everything that is happening to the world, I think it is easy to lose hope.

Feral is everything you would expect from Monbiot–elegant prose and well thought out ideas building on solid knowledge. But it is more than that. It is a book that brings hope and makes me feel that, even if Monbiot’s vision isn’t the way, there most certainly is a way through the mess we are creating.

Positivity, action, hope–these are things we need more of right now.

A book I resisted reading for a long time simply because everyone told me I had to read it. I am glad I stopped being pigheaded about it.

Through an anthology of essays, Leopold explores the ecology of his farm in Wisconsin as it changes through the year and explores philosophy, ecology, our relationship with the land and nature, and indeed with ourselves. But no description really does it justice.

It is a beautifully crafted set of thoughts that inspired the American conservation movement and remains an important work. To read it is to be walking in nature with Leopold, and for me, that is an awesome place to be. I wish I’d read it earlier.

I grew up hearing curlews calling. Their evocative, haunting call is the sound of the countryside of my childhood. With curlews in steep decline, that call is rarely heard these days.

Coldwell is a beacon of curlew conservation in the UK and I absolutely adored her book. She takes us on a physical journey around the British Isles and a temporal journey through the curlew year.

Conjuring up a sense of place, culture, history, and landscape, Coldwell also weaves in a love of nature in both its grandest and most intimate sense. I found it a deeply affecting read.  

This book is an amazing collection of stunning pictures – I loved the outstanding photographs of wildlife, landscapes, people and the vast but fragile web of nature taken by photographers and naturalists Jonathan and Angela Scott.

I found the combination of the impact of the images, the quotations about nature, and the narrative accompanying the pictures to be incredible – joyful and sombre. I was joyful as I enjoyed the entrancing pictures (such as the sunrise in the Maasai Mara) and sombre as I considered the narrative and the reality of human degradation and destruction of nature and the whole web of life of which we are far from the positive strand.

I love the academic rigor, clear writing, and balanced approach to one of the most controversial topics in wildlife conservation. I have written about hunting in relation to elephants, lions, and rhinos and found this book to be comprehensive in its coverage of the issue and its wider linkages.

Does hunting have a value–if so, what is the value, and to whom does it accrue? Do utilitarian arguments around the idea of the greatest good for the greatest number work to justify the sport/trophy hunting of animals? Can the shooting of a rhino, elephant, lion, buffalo, etc, be ethical if it contributes to conserving habitat and a wide range of species? These are all topics I have wrestled with and continue to think deeply about as I write about wildlife conservation.

Rosaleen Duffy, who ran the BIOSEC project at the University of Sheffield, established and funded it “to explore whether concerns about biodiversity protection and global security are becoming integrated” and has spent years examining the increasing militarisation of conservation globally.

Her work has been a great source of inspiration for me as I have delved into these complex issues. In this important and excellent book, Duffy skillfully expounded and analyzed the topic's core. Duffy discovered many private military companies involved directly in anti-poaching and indirectly in training. 

These include Veterans Empowered to Protect African Wildlife (VETPAW), Veterans4Wildlife, Chengeta Wildlife, International Anti Poaching Foundation (IAPF), Ecological Defense Group, Inc (EDGE), and Maisha Consulting.

Militarisation and military training are controversial subjects in conservation, with over-militarisation leading to human rights abuses and the feeling among local communities that anti-poaching units are armies of occupation. Duffy examines this in great detail and, for me,… show more.

I read this book after working in Malawi and carrying out my first safaris in Kenya and Zimbabwe. I saw hyenas and found them fascinating despite the generally held view that they were despicable parasites and vermin. 

Kruuk’s book opened my eyes to their success as hunters, not mere scavengers, to their complex, matriarchal social systems, and to the role, when not hunting, as what one could call the sanitary engineers of the eco-systems in which they live.  It influenced me to research them and eventually write a book on human attitudes toward hyenas.

This is a non-fiction classic about ‘tiger culture’ of a remote part of India where tigers do not fear humans as they do elsewhere: in fact, they even hunt down and eat dozens of people every year in this giant Sundarbans swamp where natural prey is scarce. Montgomery is brilliantly evocative while bringing to life both nature and humans of the swamp, making the book a NY Times best-seller. The local culture, where tigers are loathed, feared, and revered as deities—all at the same—is portrayed stunningly. These habitats, tiger behaviors, and local cultures are strikingly different from the ones I describe in my book. Montgomery views the tiger through a filter of human culture, whereas I do so through a filter of hard ecology. Yet, we admire each other’s work because we are both under the spell of the same tiger.   

George Schaller is my idol and hero. His book inspired me when I was just 17 years old, then a reluctant student of engineering. It was the beacon of scientific clarity that focused my passion for tigers and nature towards clear-headed action, motivating me to struggle for over a decade and change my career to one devoted to the pursuit of tiger biology and conservation. It is a superb popular science book, in which the writing also rises to the highest literary quality-one that takes you right into the world of beleaguered tigers of India in the early 1960s.