Eli J. Knapp - The Delightful Horror of Family Birding: Sharing Nature with the Next Generation

Praise for The Delightful Horror of Family Birding

Eli Knapps essays capture the special, quirky, inquisitive nature of bird watchers. Whether hes teaching his sometimes-receptive college students about birds or mixing birds and nature into a family outing, he weaves engaging tales of these experiences, leaving the reader wanting more of his well-told stories. Hes at the head of the class among the new generation of nature writers.

Bill Thompson III, editor of Bird Watchers Digest

I have a secret crush on Eli Knapp. Although I have never met him, he is truly charming, and through his stories, I feel like I know himand I adore him. He is a masterful storytellerself-depricating, witty, and always eager to learn life lessons from his experiences. His stories are fun, funny, moving, clever, and always full of birds! It is a brighter day when I receive a new story by Eli Knapp and get to spend a few minutes in his life.

Dawn Hewitt, managing editor of Bird Watchers Digest

Eli Knapps engaging stories surge from a deep spring of humor and insight into nature (both human and wild). His curiosity and sense of wonder will send you eagerly outdoors, binoculars in hand and family in tow, to see what the birds are doing. Light-hearted and astute, witty and wise, these charming essays reveal the joyful possibilities of a meaningful connection with the wild world.

Julie Hammonds, writer and birder

Eli J. Knapp lets nature lead him and therebyin this important collection of essayshe leads us to deeper perceptions of the bounty of nature. Humorous, a little irreverent. You learn about birds without even knowing.

Peter Kahn, author of The Human Relationship with Nature

An engaging and witty self-portrait of one mans amiable obsessionand an honest exploration of how he attempts to transmit this passion to his children and his students. A very fun readand youll learn a good deal of bird biology along the way.

Thomas Lowe Fleischner, Executive Director of the Natural History Institute and editor of Nature, Love, Medicine

In this collection of short, smart, humorous, easily digestible essays, birds are the stars of the show and also the vehicle Knapp uses to share wisdom, inspiration, and awe.

Melanie Bishop, author of My So-Called Ruined Life

The DELIGHTFUL HORROR OF Family Birding

SHARING NATURE WITH THE NEXT GENERATION

The DELIGHTFUL HORROR OF Family Birding

SHARING NATURE WITH THE NEXT GENERATION

By Eli J. Knapp

Illustrations by John Rhett

TORREY HOUSE PRESS

SALT LAKE CITY TORREY

First Torrey House Press Edition, October 2018

Copyright 2018 by Eli J. Knapp

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or retransmitted in any form or by any means without the written consent of the publisher.

Published by Torrey House Press

Salt Lake City, Utah

www.torreyhouse.org

International Standard Book Number: 978-1-937226-91-6

E-book ISBN: 978-1-937226-92-3

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018932506

Illustrations by John Rhett

Cover design by Kathleen Metcalf

Interior design by Rachel Davis

Distributed to the trade by Consortium Book Sales and Distribution

To Linda

Contents

INTRODUCTION

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.

William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida

T he flat tire wasnt unexpected. Wed suffered six already caravanning across the cheese-grater roads of East Africa. What I didnt expect, however, was a beautiful black and white bird with an outsized bill just off the road from where our equally outsized truck had suddenly lurched to a stop. Toucan Sam leapt to mind. I had made a habit of identifyingand often failing to identifythe incredible wildlife with which Tanzania overflowed. Nearly every day of this semester abroad, I had thumbed through my ratty field guide while madly spinning the focus knob on my semi-functioning binoculars. This bird was new. It was some kind of hornbill. But what species? With at least twenty minutes to kill, I decided to find out. To do so, I needed a closer look.

I made my way past the twenty other students, somnolent in their seats, and climbed down out of the truck. Unsettled by the sudden bipedal commotion on this little-traveled dirt road, the ungainly bird flew deeper into the acacia scrub. Determined, I went in after it. I wove around several head-high thorn bushes and glimpsed the bird again. Just as I raised my binoculars, it flew off to another perch deeper in. We played this aggravating game of hide-and-seek for several minutes until it occurred to me that I should get back to the truck lest I hold up the gang.

I gave up on the bird and turned to head out the way Id come. Just as before, I wove around thorn bushes. I expected to encounter the road but no road appeared. I stopped and listened, hoping to catch sounds of my group. Nothing but the mechanical throb of cicadas. Despite the heat, a shiver ran down my spine, causing me toagainst my better judgmentpick up my pace. For several more minutes, I speed-walked through identical-looking trees, unwilling to admit a horrifying fact: I was lost. Not only was I lost, but I had no food, no water, and I seriously doubted whether anybody had seen me leave. Even worse, chances were that with the tire changed, they would unwittingly leave without me.

I willed myself to stop and regain composure. A breeze of hot, dry wind sent small desiccated leaves swirling around my expensive shoes. A black beetle scurried into a penny-sized hole in the hard-baked African soil. If only I could do the same. Here I was, a confident twenty-year-old, a recent member of the National Honor Society, yet more helpless than a newborn wildebeest.

Minutes dragged by, and the suns rays increased their slant across the orange-red earth. I picked a direction, yelled a few times, and hoped for a response. None came. I glanced down at my watch. Surely the tire was changed by now. Ahead in the loose dirtfootprints! Hopeful, I bent down and examined them. My own. I was walking in circles.

In the midst of this new wave of panic, I heard the soft but unmistakable sound of bells. Bells! Was Santas calendar skewed in Tanzania?! Savoring a rush of childlike giddiness, I beelined toward them. But they werent reindeer I found in the African bush; they were goats, dozens and dozens of them. Before I knew it, the amoeba-like herd engulfed me, munching on the move. I stood my ground as the unfazed animals marched around me, likely annoyed that I wasnt palatable. Where there were goats, I reasoned, there were people. And if there were people, I would be spared.

People turned out to be a knobby-kneed boy whose head maybe reached my belly button. A burgundy cloth hung from one shoulder and tied around his waist with a frayed piece of sisal. He couldnt have been older than twelve. Despite being startled to find a white guy out in the bush, he didnt run. He just stood and looked at me, letting his goats disappear into the scrub.

Since my Swahili wasnt good enough to explain my predicament, I dropped to one knee and sketched a line in the dirt with a small stick. Then I tried to imitate a trucks diesel engine. Wordlessly, the boy watched my poor charade, nodding slightly. Then, he spun on his heels and started walking. His herdall his responsibilitywas abandoned.