100 books like The Bird Way

Twitchers pursuing long lists of bird sightings can seem to be fixated rather than appreciating nature in a sensible way.

Sean Dooley achieves something unlikely by showing that a world ruled by a "near-autistic obsession for list-making" has a lot going for it, because birds are wondrous things that lure birders to amazing places, providing access to something transcending everyday life. Dooley’s quest is to break the record for the number of species seen in Australia in one year.

His parents died young of cancer leaving him at age 33 with enough money to buy a comfortable house in the outer suburbs of Melbourne but instead he blows it on a four-wheel drive and a year of bird-obsessed travel that entailed 80 000 kilometres of driving, 60 000 kilometres in the air and 2 000 kilometres by boat. (Meaning, regrettably, a large carbon footprint.)

Dooley scored a record 703 species… show more.

For great feats in nature the epic migrations of millions of wading birds are difficult to beat. Immense stamina is needed for days of non-stop flight, plus sophisticated navigational skills – which remain improperly understood – to guide birds by day and night and through storms that blow them off course.

Andrew Darby begins on a beach in South Australia where two grey plovers are fitted with radio transmitters shortly before their migrations north. He follows their travels, flying after they do to Broome in north-western Australia, then to China to see the mudflats they refuel on, then to their breeding habitat inside the Arctic Circle, then back again to northern Australia.

Important to his story are the dedicated and sometimes obsessive people Darby meets in each location, many of them unpaid, who use innovative technology and intellect to work out where, exactly, the birds go on their travels and… show more.

Leila Jeffreys treats the birds in her photography studio like celebrities destined for the cover of Vogue. She takes time getting to know them and letting them know her, so that instead of just seeing birds she sees into them, and they into her.

Her book of bird portraits is a testament to trust between divergent species. She mentions a black-breasted buzzard coming to accept her photographic gear then suddenly becoming very focussed on her: "It’s an exhilarating feeling when a bird makes this transition and we begin to communicate silently as we study each other. The intelligence of this bird was profound."

The birds in her portraits look variously intense or relaxed, curious or knowing, engaged or merely comfortable, soulful, intelligent, refined, and so much else. As a child, Jeffreys was ‘besotted’ with animals and saw them as people, imagining they could talk to her. That shows through… show more.

English naturalist John Gould is recognised as the father of bird study in Australia.

During 19 months in 1838-1840 he travelled in NSW, South Australia, and Tasmania, seeing the birds and landscapes before they had been affected much by Europeans, and leaving insightful descriptions that provide a unique window into a past when, for example, regent honeyeaters, endangered today, flitted about in the middle of Adelaide city.

Gould introduced the budgerigar to Europe, was the first to describe the bowers of bowerbirds, and the first in so many ways. His book appeared in 1865 but remains relevant today. I quoted him many times in my bird book for his unique insights and observations. But the common names he used can be difficult to swallow. He praised the regent honeyeater as ‘one of the most beautiful birds inhabiting Australia’ but called it the ‘warty-faced honeyeater’.

This book (or pair of books… show more.

Each of the five books on my list come at what’s happening to birds from a very different angle.

The Genius of Birds, a blockbuster by one of the world’s leading nature writers, tells a string of stories that help us understand why birds are both so remarkable and so crucial to the globe.

The thrust of the book is that birds are far smarter than once thought. But these chapters go much deeper than that into how birds are crafty, have tremendous memories, and are even capable of deceit.

Ackerman followed up The Genuis of Birds with an equally fascinating book, The Bird Way: A New Look at How Birds Talk, Work, Play, Parent and Think, that digs into the daily lives of birds.

The thing I love about the subject of this book is that it is visible all around me. The great yearly drama of the nesting season is the most exciting part of watching birds. This is where the good stuff happens: song and courtship, battles over territory, the miracle of nest construction, the cuteness of babies, and the development of monogamy. 

Heinrich’s book opened my eyes to this story. He merges his deep scientific knowledge with personal observation, making that broader understanding applicable to what I can observe myself. He explores the different ways birds have of living their lives, constantly asking how we can explain those patterns not as random assemblages of behaviors but as comprehensible evolutionary strategies. He makes birds make sense.

This is a wonderful book. The iconic song of the blackbird takes the author into a series of exciting reflections that complicate a whole range of concepts often applied to birds, such as dance, space, and territory. I was repeatedly struck by her insights into the lives of birds.

I am amazed by the way she brings bird biographies into focus. At a time when birds (and other animals) are still often seen either as empty categories or simply good to think with, such a perspective feels like a fresh wind. As Despret observes, bird songs are in the process of vanishing. I am inclined to think of her powerful book, with its metaphoric uses of the song of the blackbird, as echoes from Rachel Carson’s warnings in Silent Spring.

This book, by Kirk Wallace Johnson tells the story of a bizarre heist that took place at the British Museum of Natural History in 2009.

The thief, Edwin Rist, was a 20-year-old American flute student who broke into the museum to steal hundreds of priceless, exotic bird specimens, many of which were collected by the naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace in the 19th century.

What first drew me to the book was that I knew Edwin’s dad back when I was in grad school. But what kept me turning the pages was the writing and story. The book explores the world of Victorian-era fly-tying and the obsession that collectors have with rare feathers.

Rist, who was also an avid fly-tier, had planned the heist to obtain feathers for his own collection, which he intended to sell to other collectors. Many of the collectors and fly-tying enthusiasts knew that the feathers probably… show more.

In my living room, I have a shelf of discarded birds’ nests, and my sofa is a beachy aqua colour. It’s no wonder then, that I was initially drawn to this book’s cover. The story itself was a pleasant surprise. I can best describe this novel as a nature meditation because, when I started reading, Inga Simpson’s prose seemed to slow time. I became less interested in achieving my daily tasks and paid minute attention to the birds and trees outside my window. Although a story of loss and heartache is weaved through this Nest, it is less important than the gaps between the plot. I am convinced this delightful novel about an art teacher and her garden added a year or two to my life! 

Quick, what’s the most melodious sound in the English countryside? Is it the nightingale or the skylark, perhaps? Maybe the coo-coo?

Songbirds are quintessentially northern hemisphere species, and their songs permeate literature, not just in Europe but also in Africa, Asia, and the Americas. Of course, birds evolved in the global north. Right? Wrong! Low argues that songbirds, parrots, and pigeons first evolved in Australia and have spread out across the world.

It’s a controversial view, but as a proud Aussie, I’m happy to believe it. Even if it’s wrong, Low writes about birds with a passion that only the truly obsessed can pull off. If you love birds, you’ll love this book.