by Jim and Jamie Dutcher
The true story of the wildlife filmmaker (Jim) and employee of the National Zoo (Jamie) who met and married during a six-year project studying a pack of captive wolves who had been hand-raised in a fenced environment in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, but more or less left to their own natural inclinations. Dutcher is aware of how controversial his project is (both from ranchers who see wolves as the devil and from environmentalists who think he is selfishly playing God by hand-raising wolves and interfering with them), and takes enormous pains to justify everything about it, from the fencing to the amount of relative luxury they lived in while filming (beds with sheets! Wine! The horror!). The pups are hand raised so the humans involved could safely film the wolves and give medical attention when needed; but the Dutchers go to great lengths to keep the environmental impact to a minimum – and succeed, if a government report on their impact is any indication.
There’s a lot of fascinating information here, especially about the technical aspects and logistical obstacles in filming a wildlife documentary (to capture the wolves’ true feral nature, which comes off as less than majestic when close up, he films them in slow motion). There is also a great deal to learn about wolf behavior, such as how the pack hierarchy can change over time, or that physical power does not necessarily correspond to status level, or how the omega can get away with playful behavior that a mid-level wolf would be punished for (reminding me of how a medieval king would take abuse from a jester that would mean death coming from advisors). About his colleagues with whom he falls out, Dutcher is not entirely reliable, finding fault with their position in general and painting himself (and his wife) as the lone hero against the entire irrational world. A reader does have to take an author’s word for a lot – you can’t proceed with any criticism if you can’t agree on what the author asserts – but things can’t be that black and white. Finally, the Dutcher anthropomorphize to a great extent. They note repeatedly that they are not scientists, but artists, and can only repeat what they feel and are not limited to observable repeatable phenomena; however, Jamie’s flights of fancy on how wolves respect ravens, and regret killing them by accident, are a bit much. Overall, this is a highly interesting, and unfortunately rather sad, account of a wolf pack that didn’t belong to people or the wild. Was this project a good thing, in the end? Yes, if you allow that it de-demonized wolves for many people. But maybe the subjects themselves would rather not have come to the end they did.
three stars
Showing posts with label animals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label animals. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
The Jungle Books
by Rudyard Kipling
A series of stories, mostly but not always set in India. I did not know when I first picked this up that not all of these tales feature the most famous character: Mowgli, the baby carried off by a lame tiger and rescued by wolves, who grows to be master of the jungle. (In this, he predates Tarzan by a couple of decades.) I remember reading some, but not all, of this book many years ago, but I remembered little of it, especially from the second book.
Some of the tales are well-known ("Rikki-Tikki-Tavi”) and some not so well known ("Servants Of the Queen," in which various army pack animals discuss their lot, and by extension, the lot of their masters, in life). For me, the ones that jarred the most were the stories that take place in the Arctic regions of all places ("The White Seal" and "Quiquern"). They seemed wildly incongruous mixed in between the better-known tales of the tropics. The one connecting thread of the tales, no matter what their locale, is that they all deal in some way with an animal's view of the world. Are these tales allegories of colonialism? I don’t know. I can see how one might argue the fact - "The White Seal" in particular appears to be a particularly blatant suggestion of the superiority of the white man - but it's also clear that Kipling loved India, far too much to write about it simply to push an agenda. Even if it is an extended allegory (which I don't believe) it’s a very poor one, since it's so rich and subtle. Anyone could pick it up and enjoy a tale of adventure, fantasy, heroism, familial love, triumph over tragedy, and sad farewells without ever dreaming there might be some hidden meaning, or considering what the various animals "represent." It's often considered a children's book, but I doubt it would be thought so if it appeared today; the language is complex, there's quite a lot of killing and threats of torture, and, least Disneyfied of all, the end is not at all the neatly-tied happy resolution that the majority of non-series children's stories seem to require today. (Kipling seems to favor ambiguous, rather sad endings; Kim and Thy Servant a Dog are respective examples). Still, what kid wouldn't want to hear about how Mowgli massacred the pack of wild dogs with the help of a python, some wolves, and about a million angry bees?
A series of stories, mostly but not always set in India. I did not know when I first picked this up that not all of these tales feature the most famous character: Mowgli, the baby carried off by a lame tiger and rescued by wolves, who grows to be master of the jungle. (In this, he predates Tarzan by a couple of decades.) I remember reading some, but not all, of this book many years ago, but I remembered little of it, especially from the second book.
Some of the tales are well-known ("Rikki-Tikki-Tavi”) and some not so well known ("Servants Of the Queen," in which various army pack animals discuss their lot, and by extension, the lot of their masters, in life). For me, the ones that jarred the most were the stories that take place in the Arctic regions of all places ("The White Seal" and "Quiquern"). They seemed wildly incongruous mixed in between the better-known tales of the tropics. The one connecting thread of the tales, no matter what their locale, is that they all deal in some way with an animal's view of the world. Are these tales allegories of colonialism? I don’t know. I can see how one might argue the fact - "The White Seal" in particular appears to be a particularly blatant suggestion of the superiority of the white man - but it's also clear that Kipling loved India, far too much to write about it simply to push an agenda. Even if it is an extended allegory (which I don't believe) it’s a very poor one, since it's so rich and subtle. Anyone could pick it up and enjoy a tale of adventure, fantasy, heroism, familial love, triumph over tragedy, and sad farewells without ever dreaming there might be some hidden meaning, or considering what the various animals "represent." It's often considered a children's book, but I doubt it would be thought so if it appeared today; the language is complex, there's quite a lot of killing and threats of torture, and, least Disneyfied of all, the end is not at all the neatly-tied happy resolution that the majority of non-series children's stories seem to require today. (Kipling seems to favor ambiguous, rather sad endings; Kim and Thy Servant a Dog are respective examples). Still, what kid wouldn't want to hear about how Mowgli massacred the pack of wild dogs with the help of a python, some wolves, and about a million angry bees?
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Thy Servant a Dog
by Rudyard Kipling
A novella composed of three long stories, as narrated by Boots, a terrier owned by an affluent British couple in the country.
In the first eponymous story, Boots tells how his master met and married a woman with another terrier named Slippers. Written in fractured and limited English, the story is a series of the two dogs’ simple adventures, from nipping at cows to rolling in bad smells to welcoming the couple’s new baby. And they meet Ravager, a hunting hound, who grows from a clumsy puppy to a strong, “dretful” pack leader, but remains their friend.
In “The Great Play Hunt,” Ravager, after being hit by a car and can no longer run with the pack, is given to the now older boy. The three dogs stage a hunt for the boy’s benefit and pleasure with the collaboration of Tags, a lame, friendly fox.
In “Toby Dog,” they meet a trick dog owned by a cockney con artist; Toby helps the pensioned Ravager get some pride back through his trickery. All wonderful, funny and heart-warming stories. But Ravager gets sicker, strains himself, and dies; this would be bad enough, but the book just ends there, with Boots mourning his friend, miserable and not understanding why he will not “unsleep” and why they have put him in dirt like a bone. A very bleak and abrupt ending to such a joyous series of tales; it made me upset.
A novella composed of three long stories, as narrated by Boots, a terrier owned by an affluent British couple in the country.
In the first eponymous story, Boots tells how his master met and married a woman with another terrier named Slippers. Written in fractured and limited English, the story is a series of the two dogs’ simple adventures, from nipping at cows to rolling in bad smells to welcoming the couple’s new baby. And they meet Ravager, a hunting hound, who grows from a clumsy puppy to a strong, “dretful” pack leader, but remains their friend.
In “The Great Play Hunt,” Ravager, after being hit by a car and can no longer run with the pack, is given to the now older boy. The three dogs stage a hunt for the boy’s benefit and pleasure with the collaboration of Tags, a lame, friendly fox.
In “Toby Dog,” they meet a trick dog owned by a cockney con artist; Toby helps the pensioned Ravager get some pride back through his trickery. All wonderful, funny and heart-warming stories. But Ravager gets sicker, strains himself, and dies; this would be bad enough, but the book just ends there, with Boots mourning his friend, miserable and not understanding why he will not “unsleep” and why they have put him in dirt like a bone. A very bleak and abrupt ending to such a joyous series of tales; it made me upset.
Tuesday, January 12, 1999
A Zoo In My Luggage
by Gerald Durrell
The true and amusing tale of how Durrell went to the Cameroons to acquire animals for his own zoo, which was then set up on Jersey in the Channel Islands. It’s apparent how much Durrell loves wildlife, or at least collecting it; and he knows how to write with fluidity and humor. I think the story was marred by Durrell’s authorial ego (he criticizes his wife for clucking over and anthropomorphizing the cute animals, but he does it all the time himself; he assumes that collecting animals from their native habitat is a worthwhile endeavor, no debate about it), and by his colonialist tone. His conversations with the Africans (and between Africans themselves) are all reported in a babyish pidgin, which may be a droll device but gets old and smacks of European condescension. The last part of the book describes Durrell’s escapades with the animals in suburban Bournemouth, which is very funny, and even informative, when he reports some simian behavior. I would have liked for Durrell to give some details of his collisions with the local bureaucracy to set up a zoo in England, but then I suppose he’s not that kind of writer. All in all a cute, lightweight book, with minor flaws rooted in the point of view of Durrell’s generation and class.
three stars
The true and amusing tale of how Durrell went to the Cameroons to acquire animals for his own zoo, which was then set up on Jersey in the Channel Islands. It’s apparent how much Durrell loves wildlife, or at least collecting it; and he knows how to write with fluidity and humor. I think the story was marred by Durrell’s authorial ego (he criticizes his wife for clucking over and anthropomorphizing the cute animals, but he does it all the time himself; he assumes that collecting animals from their native habitat is a worthwhile endeavor, no debate about it), and by his colonialist tone. His conversations with the Africans (and between Africans themselves) are all reported in a babyish pidgin, which may be a droll device but gets old and smacks of European condescension. The last part of the book describes Durrell’s escapades with the animals in suburban Bournemouth, which is very funny, and even informative, when he reports some simian behavior. I would have liked for Durrell to give some details of his collisions with the local bureaucracy to set up a zoo in England, but then I suppose he’s not that kind of writer. All in all a cute, lightweight book, with minor flaws rooted in the point of view of Durrell’s generation and class.
three stars
Wednesday, January 6, 1999
Gone Whaling: A Search for Orcas in Northwest Waters
by Douglas Hand
An account of the author’s quest for the culture of killer whales in the Pacific Northwest, and the root of our fascination with orcas. He goes from a museum to an aquarium to a renegade scientist to Haida craftsmen who carve whales. It’s quite a meticulously researched book: the histories of the museums, the histories of the native crafts, etc. This erudition is a sideline, however, used to supplement the human side of the story, rather than overshadowing it.
It is a subtly written book, yet I don’t think it succeeds. I didn’t see that Hand hit upon the essence of our fascination with orcas, if only because he eschews philosophy in favor of factual commentary. A philosophy he does come near to espousing may be a Zen-like acceptance (he mentions Chuang Tzu), not analysis: the orca is mysterious and amazing, and this should be felt rather than said. And yet he wrote a 200-page book about it. I also did not care for what I saw as Hand’s ego, apparent in the writing: Hand did the sketches himself (they’re unremarkable), and he seems to feel the need to insult all his interlocutors’ appearances, citing their balding heads or discolored teeth. What’s the deal with that?
three stars
An account of the author’s quest for the culture of killer whales in the Pacific Northwest, and the root of our fascination with orcas. He goes from a museum to an aquarium to a renegade scientist to Haida craftsmen who carve whales. It’s quite a meticulously researched book: the histories of the museums, the histories of the native crafts, etc. This erudition is a sideline, however, used to supplement the human side of the story, rather than overshadowing it.
It is a subtly written book, yet I don’t think it succeeds. I didn’t see that Hand hit upon the essence of our fascination with orcas, if only because he eschews philosophy in favor of factual commentary. A philosophy he does come near to espousing may be a Zen-like acceptance (he mentions Chuang Tzu), not analysis: the orca is mysterious and amazing, and this should be felt rather than said. And yet he wrote a 200-page book about it. I also did not care for what I saw as Hand’s ego, apparent in the writing: Hand did the sketches himself (they’re unremarkable), and he seems to feel the need to insult all his interlocutors’ appearances, citing their balding heads or discolored teeth. What’s the deal with that?
three stars
Thursday, February 29, 1996
The Temple Tiger and More Man-Eaters of Kumaon
by Jim Corbett
An account of Corbett's experiences hunting tigers and in one instance a leopard. The man personifies the typical pulp hero – utterly without fear, nonchalantly heroic and replete with amusing foibles, like absolutely craving a smoke and a nice hot cuppa tea even while waiting on a tree branch with rifle in hand in the dead of night for the man-eating tiger to come that way. If these stories hadn't been true, they wouldn't be worth reading, but as it is, I was impressed, to say the least.
four stars
An account of Corbett's experiences hunting tigers and in one instance a leopard. The man personifies the typical pulp hero – utterly without fear, nonchalantly heroic and replete with amusing foibles, like absolutely craving a smoke and a nice hot cuppa tea even while waiting on a tree branch with rifle in hand in the dead of night for the man-eating tiger to come that way. If these stories hadn't been true, they wouldn't be worth reading, but as it is, I was impressed, to say the least.
four stars
Monday, July 19, 1993
Is There a Doctor In the Zoo?
by David Taylor
The early years of an exotic animal veterinarian. An enthralling, fascinating, hilarious, wonderful story. One thing that impressed me was how much a pioneer Taylor was – no anaesthetic dart guns, no zoo or exotic animals classes in vet school back in the '40s and '50s – yet Taylor made it work. I loved his assessment of Christian outlooks on animals, the drug-dealing Arab episode and especially his anecdotes about the chimps. They certainly are a lot smarter than we think!
The early years of an exotic animal veterinarian. An enthralling, fascinating, hilarious, wonderful story. One thing that impressed me was how much a pioneer Taylor was – no anaesthetic dart guns, no zoo or exotic animals classes in vet school back in the '40s and '50s – yet Taylor made it work. I loved his assessment of Christian outlooks on animals, the drug-dealing Arab episode and especially his anecdotes about the chimps. They certainly are a lot smarter than we think!
Monday, April 5, 1993
The Aye-Aye And I: A Rescue Mission In Madagascar
by Gerald Durrell
A very good account of Durrell's experience in Madagascar, one of the world's most fauna-rich areas. I hadn't read Durrell in at least six years & remembered him fondly. Unfortunately, I found the book to be patchily written. Very interesting account of his hunts & well-expressed ecological facts, but very repetitive and incongruous. Liked it anyway, perhaps for nostalgia's sake.
A very good account of Durrell's experience in Madagascar, one of the world's most fauna-rich areas. I hadn't read Durrell in at least six years & remembered him fondly. Unfortunately, I found the book to be patchily written. Very interesting account of his hunts & well-expressed ecological facts, but very repetitive and incongruous. Liked it anyway, perhaps for nostalgia's sake.
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